Packing Double: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 5)

by Dixon, Ruby

  “H-hi,” I breathe, startled. I slide out of his grip, and panic sets in at the sight of his patch-covered cut. More bikers? But this one has a different club logo—a joker’s hat with a pair of machetes. He’s not wearing the Henchmen’s logo like the other men.

  Different club. This has to be the Bedlam Butchers.

  The door to Chrome opens up again, and then the room fills with more bikers, all of them wearing the distinctive cut of their club. These men are not as grizzled looking as the Henchmen and overall they’re younger...and far more attractive. I suddenly see the reason why so many women have turned out for the ‘panty raid’ tonight.

  “You okay, sugar?” The man who caught me asks.

  I nod, dazed, and then glance around the bar to see if the Henchman are still around. My harasser has slunk back to his table, and I see him leaning toward another guy, whispering something. Holding my tray protectively, I step closer to the newcomer. “There’s three of the Eighty-Eight Henchmen here,” I murmur, knowing my voice will be barely audible over the pounding classic rock coming from the jukebox. “I’m guessing they’re here to cause trouble. They’re bothering some of the girls.”

  One of those dark brows goes up, and he glances around the room. “Thanks for the warning.” He pats me on the shoulder, and for a moment, I feel like preening. “We’ve got it handled, though.”

  I nod and head back out to check on my tables, because even though I’m freaking out a little, I still work for tips. I have to keep showing my face if I want to make my customers happy. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the Butchers flood into the bar. There are at least twenty of them, I count, which is probably good because there are at least double that many women in the bar, looking to hook up. I notice with a hint of jealousy that several of the Butchers head straight to the bar itself, and a few others sit in Kimmy’s section. Mine is still full of thirsty women....well, and three jerks. For the next few minutes, I catch up on drink orders, rushing back and forth between the bar and my tables. Everyone seems to need a refill at once, and I can barely keep up with things. The tables begin to mix a bit more, and men show up in my section. Women and men pair off, but no one touches me or flirts with me. No one even hits on me, which is kind of disappointing.

  Yet...even as I rush about, I could swear that someone is watching me. The few times I’ve had a chance to stop and look around, I see my dark and handsome rescuer murmuring something to someone else at the bar—a tall, scary someone with dark blond hair, a goatee, and a fierce look on his face.

  And then I think they’re both watching me, which makes me blush...and also makes me a little wet with excitement. I could definitely use these men for my quick overnight fuck.

  One of the henchmen waves me over for a drink refill—they’ve settled on whiskey after all—and I head to their table. “Refills?” I ask, keeping my voice cheerful. They’ve been drinking quite a bit tonight, and running up a huge tab. I’m pretty sure they’re skunked at this point, and that concerns me.

  “Yeah,” the bearded one across the table says, and nudged his glass toward me, indicating I should take it from him. The other two have their chairs kicked out a bit, and due to the crowd, I’d be unable to maneuver around the table to get to his glass. Without thinking, I automatically lean over the table and reach for the empty tumbler.

  Suddenly, someone shoves me forward onto the table. I sprawl ungracefully, my breasts pressing against the wood even as hands clamp on my thighs and push them apart. “You’ve been teasing us with this sweetbutt all night, haven’t you?”

  Panic pushes through me and I try to rise off of the table, but another pair of hands clamps on my arms, pinning me down. “Let me go!”

  “What’s that you say?” One calls out. “You want some cock? Happy to oblige.” A rough pair of hands part my thighs even wider.

  Oh, my God. Am I going to be raped on this table in front of everyone? I stare in horror at the face leering at me from across the table, pinning my arms down.

  “You assholes bothering my woman?” A gruff voice says, just as I’m gathering the air in my lungs to scream. I freeze and look over in the direction of the speaker. It’s the tough looking blond man with the goatee. He’s crossed his arms over his chest and is glaring at the Henchmen. Behind him stands the dark-haired man, and a few other men are rising from their tables, displacing the women in their laps.

  “Your woman?” Skinny sneers. “You haven’t touched her.”

  “That’s because she’s working, fucknut. And she’s fucking busy as hell trying to run drinks. Didn’t mean she’s not claimed.”

  “That so?”

  “Just ask her,” the blond man says. His gaze moved to me, still pinned on the table. “You with me tonight, sugar?”

  Funny how he calls me ‘sugar’ just like the man behind him. I don’t even have to think twice about whether or not I’m with this guy. “Absolutely.”

  His hard mouth curls in a hint of a smile. “There. See? Now, you going to take your fucking hands off my property or are we gonna get ugly?”

  The room goes silent, the only sound that of the jukebox. Not a glass clinks. Eventually, the hands on my thighs ease. “Didn’t know she’d been claimed by the Butcher’s prez.”

  “Now you know,” the blond man says, his voice flat and unfriendly.

  Oh, no. My new ‘guy’ is the president of the Butchers? My fuck-and-leave? My eyes widen even as I scurry backward off of the table, my hands running over my skirt to ensure that everything is covered. Should I say thank you? The two men are still hovering, though the darker haired one has moved closer to me. A second later, he throws an arm around my shoulders, which is confusing.

  If the blond guy is claiming me, why is this one getting touchy feely? Not that I mind, of course. He’s gorgeous...and looking out for me. But it’s still strange.

  “They want their check,” the blond man says, not looking over at me. “I imagine they need to hit the road.”

  “I’ll get it,” I murmur.

  “Before you do,” the guy with his arm around my waist says, “We should make sure that everyone else knows who you belong to tonight.”

  And he tilts my face toward him and kisses me.

  Stunned, I’m scarcely able to breathe as his mouth presses against my own in a bold claim. His tongue slicks inside my mouth, hinting at other talents, and then he releases me. Wham, bam, done. As I stand there, dazed, he grins down at me. “You were getting their bill?”

  “I was,” I agree, and wobble my way back to the bar, knees weak. I cash out the Henchmen and briefly contemplate just paying the tab myself—just to get them out of the bar. But it’s over a hundred dollars and I probably won’t make that in tips tonight. So, lips pursed, I bring the bill back to the table, despite every instinct screaming to avoid.

  The three men are still in a stare-down with the president of the Butchers, his friend behind him. The other Butchers have stood down, but there’s a watchfulness in the room that tells me no one is relaxed. I present the check, waiting for someone to reach for it.

  “I got it,” the blond Butcher tells me. “Present for visitors in our territory.”

  “Oh,” I say, taking the ticket back. “Okay.”

  “Seeing as how they were just leaving.”

  The men at the table grimace. The president hands me a wad of money, and not sure what else to do with it, I head to the bar to cash it out. When I return to the table, the Henchmen are gone and now the dark haired Butcher sits there, the blond president seated across from him.

  Both of them watch me move with avid eyes.

  Their interest puts a little swing into my hips as I approach their table. “Thank you for taking care of things. I...suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Tamra, but everyone calls me Kitty, and I really appreciate you running those guys off. I had no idea they were going to be so much trouble.”

  “They just came here looking to stir up shit and score a little pussy,” the blond man
says. He points across the table at the dark haired hunk. “Domino.” Then he points back at himself. “Gemini.”

  “Hi,” I tell them, smiling. The tension has left the room. It’s weird, but I feel safe with these guys. They’re pretty darn sexy, too. The dark haired one—Domino—is just the kind of guy I normally fall for, and there’s something about Gemini’s quiet control that makes me shiver with attraction. “Can I get you boys a drink? It’s on me. Just a thank you for fixing things.”

  Both men eye me. “Beer for me, whatever microbrew you have on hand,” Gemini says.

  “Jack and Coke,” says Domino.

  “Coming right up,” I tell them, and put in the order at the bar. Then, I make the rounds at my tables again. By the time the drinks are up, I’ve relaxed a bit and I smile broadly at them when I set the drinks down. “Can I get you boys anything else?”

  They exchange a look. “What time do you get off, sugar?” Domino asks.

  Is that the invitation I think it is? I blink, glance back at the blond—Gemini. But he’s just gazing at me, easy as could be. As if his buddy isn’t picking me up right after Gemini’s declared his intentions to the entire room. I’m flustered and not sure how to respond. Is this a test? Should I turn Domino down? “I, um, I don’t know. Later, whenever the bar clears out a bit.”

  “I don’t think she knows anything about the Butchers, Gem,” says Domino. There is an amused grin on his face. “Look at how scared she is of pissin’ one of us off.”

  A lazy smile crosses Gemini’s face and he tilts his head, then crooked a finger at me.

  I move toward the big blond man, curious. He indicates I should come closer, and I do, though it means I need to step between his knees. But there’s something about these two men that doesn’t frighten me like the Henchmen did. Actually, their attention is pretty damn exciting, if I’m being honest with myself.

  “So,” Gemini says in a low voice, and I have to lean in even closer to hear him. “You know what tonight is?”

  “Panty raid?” I ask, breathless. Just being this close to him is making me crazy aroused.

  His eyebrows flick upward, an indication of agreement. “If I check that short skirt of yours, am I gonna see red panties?”

  I glance back at Domino, who is watching our exchange with interest. Isn’t he jealous? Do I need to pick one of the two men to focus my attentions on? Because right now, they’re both sending out pretty strong signals. “You gonna be sad if my panties aren’t red?” I ask him, finding it easy to flirt once more.

  His hand slides to my thigh—one big, hot hand. Oooh. I nearly cream my panties right then. His hand glides up my leg, his gaze on my face, and then rides up the slit in my skirt. He tugs the leather upward, and I realize that he intends on exposing my ass in front of everyone in the bar. I suck in a breath and glance around to see who’s looking.

  Chrome is crawling with people, but no one is paying the slightest bit of attention to our table. All over, men are flirting with women. As I watch, a tall, lean man in a patch-decorated cut tugs at one woman’s jeans, exposing her red panties as the woman giggles and squirms against him. Other men have women in their laps, and some have two. So...would anyone even notice if I let Gemini push my skirt up?

  Worse, do I care if anyone notices?

  But will Gemini think I’m easy if I let them manhandle me in the bar a short time after they’ve run the Henchmen off for doing the same thing?

  “She looks like she’s thinking mighty hard about things,” Domino declares, giving me a frank look of appreciation.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of girl.”

  “The red panty kind?”

  My cheeks feel hot. I am a red panty kind. “The kind that makes out with everything that comes into the bar.”

  Gemini just raises a brow at me.

  “What makes you think we didn’t ask about you first?” Domino says. “Your friend at the bar says you don’t date around. Says you never encourage the customers and you never leave with anyone.”

  I glance over at the bar. Cindy hasn’t steered me wrong yet, and she didn’t warn me off either of these men. It almost sounds like she is matchmaking.

  “So maybe you go talk to your friend,” Gemini says, his voice lazy and dark, like molasses. “And then you come back and decide if you want to show us if your panties are red or not.”

  “Us?” I ask.

  Gemini just wiggles his brows at me. This time, Domino crooks his finger in my direction and gives me an incredibly sexy smile. Like a moth to flame, I head over to him and lean in.

  “Us,” Domino says. “Because maybe we should tell you something about the Butchers.” He looks me up and down approvingly. “Or maybe I should let you figure it out.” He taps a patch on his jacket.

  I peer at it. PREZ.

  Huh. I look back at Gemini, who I could have sworn is the president of the Bedlam Butchers, according to the earlier conversation. Sure enough, his jacket says PREZ, too. I blink, then look at Domino. “Did you, um, borrow his jacket?”

  The men exchange a look, and then Gemini barks a laugh. Domino just grins at me and crooks his finger again, indicating I should creep even closer. I do, fascinated.

  This time, when he whispers, his lips move against my ear. “See, the thing with us? Our brotherhood does everything in pairs. Two prez, two secretary, two everything. We do it all in pairs. All. In. Pairs.”

  I gasp, glancing between the two men. “Both of you? Together? With me?” My voice has a little squeak to it.

  Gemini just gives me that lazy, confident smile.

  Holy shit. So when he’d been telling everyone I was claimed, and then Domino kissed me...they’d both meant it. They both want me for themselves. I look around the room again, seeing it with new eyes. The Butchers pair up in bed? Sure enough, the guys tend to sit in twos, with women clustered around them. They don’t pay attention to their brothers, just the women in their laps. As I watch, one woman stands up and gets her purse, and two men grin and follow her out the door.

  Oh my good glory. Do I want to sleep with both men? “I—I’ve never—”

  But even as I say it, I’m titillated. I love breaking the rules and this sure seems scandalous to me.

  “We figured,” Domino says. He takes a sip of his drink, and then cocks his head toward the bar. “Which is why we suggest you go talk with your friend before coming back here and letting us know what you decide. There’s room to pack double on my bike if you are. Interested, that is.”

  “P-pack double?” That sounds so incredibly dirty.

  Gemini laughs. “He means ride behind him.”

  “Oh. Of course.” My cheeks flush. “I’ll, uh, be back.” I tuck my tray against my breasts and hurry back to the bar without trying to make it seem like I’m rushing. Or excited. Or freaked out. Or aroused. Or all of the above.

  Which...I am.

  Cindy’s busy with drink orders, and I have to wait a few impatient minutes to get her attention. When I do, I drag her around to the far side of the bar to chat privately. “So,” I say. “You ever interact much with the Butchers?”

  The bartender shrugs. “Enough. They’re not the worst, but you don’t want to cross them, of course. But if you’re asking me if they’re a kind and cuddly sort of club, they’re not. They’re just as ruthless as any other club.”

  I wave that aside. “No. I’m not asking that at all. I’m asking...well.” I glance over at the table where the two men are nursing their drinks and quietly talking. “If you know anything about them...in pairs.”

  Cindy giggles. “Oh, honey, didn’t you know?”

  “I guess everyone knows but me,” I say, suddenly feeling like an idiot.

  “Yepper. So where do you think Gemini got his name?” She winks coyly at me. “It’s not because he’s a solo act.”

  Eeek. I’m titillated and a little alarmed at the thought of two men at once. Heck, just one of the Bedlam Butchers would be an exciting, dangerous fl
ing. Two in the same bed? My mind goes nuts with the possibilities. “Have they, um, do they always do this?”

  “Always,” Cindy tells me confidently. “Goes back to when the club was established. Pairs are safer in their eyes, so they have two of everything. Brother to have another brother’s back and all that.”

  “Oh my lord.” I press a hand to my forehead. “They want to see my panties.”

  “Are they red?” Cindy asks, grinning. “Because if you’re looking for sexy fun for a night? Those are your boys, Kitty. You can’t go wrong with Gem and Dom.”

  The way she says their names sounds a little overly friendly. “Have you ever hooked up with them?”

  “Those two? Nope. But another pair of Butchers?” She winks again. “A girl doesn’t kiss and tell. Or kiss two in the same bed and tell.”

  I look back at the table again. Do I want to take a chance with those men? It would be the ride of my life...literally. But what do I have to lose? I don’t have a boyfriend—not even a prospect—and I’m aroused by the thought of a fling with one biker. Two bikers is like...overkill.

  Or something out of my dirtiest fantasies.

  I gaze at the packed bar. There are women crawling all over the men. No one else looks as if they mind being doubled up on. In fact, they look rather eager for it. Sucking in a breath, I make up my mind and return to the table.

  Both men look up as I approach.

  “I just have a question,” I say to them, putting my hands on the table’s surface and leaning in. This will give them a hint of cleavage, but still leaves me in a powerful position. “If I agree to go with you tonight...it’s just you two, right? You’re not going to share me with anyone else?”

  Gemini’s brows go down in a frown. At my other side, Domino snorts. “Why the fuck would you ask that?”

  “Because I’m not interested in being club sweetbutt,” I tell them. “I’m interested in you two and only you two. And just for one night,” I add, remembering Joleen’s warnings about getting involved with club guys. Hot as these two are, I’m not interested in being anyone’s full-time beer-fetcher unless there are tips involved.