by Ruby Dixon
“Goddamn it, don’t say shit like that,” he retorts, then rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Now it really sounds like you’re my boyfriend.”
Shy giggles into her wine glass and then takes a sip. “So I guess you’re paying, hmm, Beast?”
“I am,” I agree. “Dinner’s on me.”
“Well shit, then I shoulda ordered something expensive,” Muscle says with a laugh. “No appetizers at all?”
I nod at Shy. “She’s our appetizer.”
She freezes mid sip of her wine and then takes a look around to see if anyone else heard. The blush returns to her cheeks. “W-what do you mean?”
“I mean I want you to touch yourself.” My cock gets hard at the thought. “Just reach under your skirt and start teasing yourself.” I nod at Muscle. “He wants to see.” I do too, but it’s all part of my control game, which gets me off almost as much as the actual sex.
Her mouth opens. Then she wets her lips with her small, pink tongue, and I feel another surge of lust. For a moment, I wonder if she’s going to do what I want her to. If I’ve pushed her too far and she’s not interested in our games.
But her hands slide under the table. She glances around again. “What if someone sees—”
“No one will see,” I tell her. I’m calm, collected, and in control. At least my voice is. The eager side of me is dying to take my cock out and work myself in my hand at the thought of her sitting at this restaurant and touching herself all because I told her to.
“You make all your dates do this?” she asks breathlessly.
I take a sip of my wine. “Only the ones I’m interested in keeping.”
CHAPTER TWO
SHY
It seems like tonight, we’re going to take naughty to a new extreme. The sane, practical part of me says I should put my foot down. But the rest of me? The rest of me is reaching under my skirt and touching the wet folds between my legs. There’s no question that I’m turned on by Beast’s quiet demands. No question that I’m aroused by the thought of stroking myself to an orgasm right here in front of them while others dine nearby, completely unaware.
I glance around once more, but Beast’s attention is focused solely on me. It’s like a dare. And since it’s coming from someone I completely and utterly trust, I go for it. I start to rub my pussy, right there in the restaurant. My skirt is bunched up around my hips and the white tablecloth is the only thing that’s stopping me from giving a full-frontal show.
And for some reason, I keep touching myself. My fingers graze my clit and my breath catches.
“Fuck, she’s getting into it,” Muscle says, and throws back his wine.
“No more for you,” Beast says. “You’re driving.”
“Right,” Muscle says, but his intense gaze is on me. He can’t see what I’m doing, but he’s completely attuned to my body. Both of them are. When my breath hitches again, Muscle’s chin lifts, as if he’s waiting for something.
I bite my lip, and I could swear both of them nearly come out of their chairs. And then this becomes even more fun and naughty, because it’s not just about me touching myself, but it’s about performance, too. I let a soft whimper escape my throat….
And Muscle groans in response, then runs a hand down his face. “Jesus. That is hot.”
But Beast’s dark eyes are just watching me intently. “Are you using your fingers, Shy?”
“On my clit,” I breathe. I want to reach up and play with my nipples, but someone would definitely notice that, and I’m not ready to be that much of a public tease.
“Slide one inside yourself,” Beast tells me.
This time I can’t suppress my moan. He wants me to finger fuck myself right here? Right now? I do as he commands, though, and slide one finger deep inside me. My touch makes a wet sound that seems overloud on the quiet patio. It makes my face turn bright red again.
“Is everything all right?” The waiter asks, hurrying over.
I freeze, a finger deep inside me, skirts rucked up in my lap. I’m pushed in far enough that he can’t see, but…I can’t do this while he’s here.
Beast gives the man a tolerant smile. “Well, thank you. How is the food coming along?”
“It should be just a few more moments,” the waiter says. He reaches for Muscle’s emptied wine glass. “Shall I refill this for you?”
“Water for him,” Beast says.
The waiter looks at Muscle, but he’s staring intently at me. And for some reason, that makes me move my fingers again. My lips part, but no sound comes out. No one notices but Muscle, though. His nostrils flare in response.
It feels as if the world has come down to small gestures. The tip of a tongue flicking against dry lips. The twitch of a hand on the table. Fingers tightening on the stem of a wine glass. All of these become incredibly noticeable when there’s nothing but silence at the dinner table.
And when my arm muscles clench as I slide my fingers deep as the waiter leaves? Both Beast and Muscle notice.
“So why are we celebrating?” Muscle asks. He leans forward, trying not to look overeager as my hands move again.
I can’t think with my fingers pushed all the way up inside me. I slide them free and give a small sigh because my body needs more than I’m giving it. “I got a job,” I say, breathless. “I’m going to work at Green’s Custom Metalworks. Accounts Payable.”
“Never heard of it,” Muscle announces.
Beast shoots him a look, then smiles at me. “Congrats, Shy-girl. When do you start?”
“Monday,” I tell them proudly. “It’s an entry level job, but it’ll get me office experience. And I won’t have to mooch off you guys anymore.”
“You’re not mooching,” Beast says, a frown on his hard face. “You’re with us.”
“And I thought you were working for us,” Muscle adds.
“Yes, but I want to contribute money. And you guys don’t have enough for me to do to help you with the business. You know you don’t.” The few times they gave me tickets to ‘help’ them with, it took them longer to show me how to log them than for Beast to enter them. “You’re making work for me so I’ll feel needed.”
“You’re always needed, Shy-girl,” Muscle says, and there’s a husky note in his voice that distracts me from the whole job thing.
“Yes, but be happy for me, too. This is a big step up for me. No more Taco Shack.” I’m losing confidence as I argue why I want a job. “I need this.”
“I’m happy for you,” Beast says. His expression is softer, as if he realizes what this means to me. “I just want you to know that we’re here for you if you need anything. And if you want to quit and just stay at home, that’s good with us, too.”
“We could go home right now,” Muscle says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“Not yet,” Beast says. “We’re dating her.” And he gives me the most wicked, sinful grin and I have to clench my thighs together.
“So we are,” Muscle agrees, and we all turn as the waiter comes out with food. I hastily pull my skirt down and keep my hands in my lap as the food is set before us, and it looks delicious. Each plate comes with a baked potato and a vegetable, and a basket of bread. It smells wonderful and my mouth waters at the sight of it.
“Bon appétit,” the waiter says, and hurries away.
Then it’s just us again, and instead of digging in to the food, we watch each other. Beast is watching me, Muscle glances over at Beast, and I’m watching both men, trying to figure out what they’re thinking. And I’m getting turned on, because I can tell by the look on Beast’s face that it doesn’t have much to do with steak.
“You stopped touching yourself,” Beast points out.
I squirm in my seat a little. “The waiter was coming.”
“He’s gone now.”
So he is. I start to pull my skirt back again when Beast takes a sip of his wine, and then nudges Muscle with his elbow. “I think you should help her along.”
“What, under the table?” A
naughty gleam forms in Muscle’s eyes.
I gasp, my eyes going wide. “Here?” I squeak out.
But Muscle’s already going under the table. A moment later, he disappears completely under the tablecloth. I send a shocked look in Beast’s direction a moment before hands grip my skirt and pull it up.
“You wanted the full experience,” Beast teases. “You’re getting it.” And then he wiggles his eyebrows at me, the jerk.
“Yes, but,” I begin, and then my chair is scraped forward by two strong arms. Hands press against my thighs and then I feel a face bury into my lap.
A moan rises from my lips despite myself.
“Fuck, she’s wet as hell,” Muscle calls from under the table. His fingers glide through my folds. “Fucking dripping.” His tongue snakes against my pussy. “Delicious, too.”
He tugs me forward so he can lick me properly, and I slide down in my seat. My legs are spread, and I watch as Beast takes another sip of his wine while Muscle tongues and laps at my pussy under the table. The food hasn’t been touched. I clutch the arms of my chair desperately as my clit is licked, and it’s taking everything I have to stay seated. I want to press my body against Muscle’s mouth and grind against his face until I come, panting and sweaty.
Then, he ups the ante. A finger strokes through my folds again and I feel him push it into my cunt. I suck in a breath, because everything seems to clench in my body. I moan again, and my hands grip the tablecloth as he begins to pump his finger, in and out, and then returns to licking my clit, his tongue moving fast against it. A moment later I come, biting back the cry of pleasure that racks my body, and Muscle moans as another wave of my juices hit his mouth. He licks me until I’m quivering and trembling from aftershocks, and then crawls out from under the table. His mouth is obscenely wet, his lips red, and he looks pleased as hell.
Me? I feel utterly wrung out.
I slide my skirt down again, and sure enough, the waiter returns. The man has crazy timing — either that or he knows what we’re up to. Good lord, I hope not.
He clasps his hands and looks around the table. Muscle’s wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin, Beast’s still sipping his wine, and I’m wilted in my chair. “Is the food to your liking?” the waiter asks.
“We need the check and three to-go boxes,” Beast tells him, draining the last of his wine.
“Of course,” our waiter says and disappears again.
“We’re leaving?” I ask weakly. I’m fine with that. I want to go home and nap. Or go home and fuck. I’m tired, but I’m also aching and hollow inside, and I know of one particular cure for that. And I’m never too tired to have sex. Being with Muscle and Beast is like a jolt of delicious adrenaline every time one of them touches me.
“Date’s ending early,” Beast says, and he’s got a wicked look in his eye. “We’re gonna find the nearest halfway private place and go fuck.”
And just like that, I’m all breathless and aching again. “Okay.”
We leave a massive tip and get out of the restaurant before the waiter can return with the food. It’s not like we can take it with us, anyhow. Can’t eat a steak on the back of a bike, and I sure won’t be able to eat my salmon. Not that I care. I’m more interested in part two of this date.
I squirm when I have to straddle behind Beast with no panties. “I’m going to ruin the leather,” I tell him, blushing.
“I’ll get a new seat,” he says, and refuses to give back my panties. Crazy man.
The next exit has a movie theater, and I point at it. “Dinner and a movie?” I tease. To my surprise, Beast pulls off, and Muscle follows. They park their bikes on the sidewalk up front, and we get tickets.
“What do you want to see?” the lady at the ticket window asks us.
“What’s the least crowded?” Muscle says.
She eyes the three of us and my flushed face. “Uh huh. Three for Hell’s Ninjas IV.”
And I start blushing all over again. We’re so obvious.
By the time we get into the theater, I feel giggly and flustered. My hand’s tucked in Beast’s and we pick seats at the back of the theater. It’s deserted, sure enough. No one must care about ninjas on a Wednesday night. I move to sit between the men, but Beast hauls me into his lap.
“I want you on me,” he murmurs a moment before he tilts my head back and claims me in a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss. The music to the movie starts up, and I don’t have to hide my moans this time; they’re drowned out by the movie no one’s watching.
As we kiss, Beast slides a hand between us, unbuttoning his pants and working on his belt. As he does, Muscle reaches over and caresses my ass, teasing my pussy with his fingers and getting me worked up until I’m grinding down on his hand and clinging to Beast’s jacket.
“Please,” I murmur as I hear his belt loosen. I move a hand down to feel him and encounter hot flesh instead of clothing. Perfection. I fit the head of him against my core, and normally he’s so big that we need lube, but I’m wet and aching with need, and so ready to be filled by him.
He grips my jaw and looks into my eyes as he sinks deep, and then I’m riding that thick, achingly hard shaft, my hips moving in bucking little thrusts as I try to take all of him into me.
“We’re going to have to think of a new name for you, Shy-girl,” Muscle muses at our side. “Cause you sure as shit ain’t shy no more.”
“Maybe we just call you ‘our girl’,” Beast murmurs, and gives me a hot, open-mouthed kiss that leaves me breathless. He pumps into me, pulling me against him so he can thrust harder, and I drag my fingers through his silky black hair. Then, he starts ramming into me even harder, and by the time the next wave of action sequences starts, I’m burying my face in Beast’s neck, screaming out my orgasm as he pounds into me. I feel him tighten under me, feel him pulse inside me, and then he clutches me against him for a long, long moment.
And then sweetly kisses me again. “I think I like date night.”
“I think I do, too,” I murmur, dazed.
“Now you can come sit in my lap,” Muscle says. And I willingly go to him, because I love that these men can never get enough of me, and I can’t get enough of them.
Muscle takes me hard, and I’m so wet from Beast’s semen and my own slickness that every thrust he makes into my body is impossibly noisy…and impossibly good. Unlike Beast, though, he fucks me for what feels like forever, and I think he’s watching the movie over my shoulder from time to time, pacing himself to torture me.
When the movie climaxes, I do, too.
Yeah, we’re definitely going to have to do date night again.
• • •
BEAST
Hours later, Shy’s curled up against me in bed, Muscle on the other side of her. She’s turned toward me and not Muscle, and even though it’s probably because I’m warmer or my side of the bed sags more…I like it. Me, the big ugly ex-con, has a soft, gentle girl cuddled up next to me because she trusts me and wants to be with me. Her gentle snores don’t even bother me, nor do Muscle’s louder ones.
This is what contentment feels like. It’s profound and utterly, completely fucking frightening. I worry that something will happen and it’ll all disappear as quickly as it came. I resist the urge to squeeze Shy tighter against me. She needs her sleep; Muscle and I wore her out today, but we all had a wonderful time. I keep thinking she’s going to put her feet down and complain, but she’s always up for new adventures. It’s crazy. She’s crazy.
Actually I think we’re all three a little crazy, but that’s what makes us perfect for each other.
A phone on the nightstand buzzes with an incoming text, and I pick up Shy’s phone to see if it’s for her. Nope. This time of night, a buzz to me or Muscle means club business. I swipe a finger over my phone.
Sure enough, there’s a text from Dom. Come by Meat Locker when you get a chance. Need to chat.
I reach over Shy’s head and type with one finger. Will do. See you in AM.
Then I put
the phone down and hug our girl closer to me. The club can wait until morning. Nights are ours.
• • •
The next morning, we let Shy sleep late and Muscle and I head over to the Meat Locker, the Butchers’s base of operations and gym. We leave a note for Shy and promise to bring back breakfast, because she can put away some serious donuts. Shy can’t listen in on club business anyhow. We don’t involve our old ladies in business as a rule, because if they aren’t involved, no one can come after them.
Muscle’s in a cheery mood this morning. He’s been more like his old self lately, and it’s good to see. Shy’s calming presence is helping, along with whatever went through his head with that gun runner thing a few weeks ago. Whatever it is, he’s back now, no longer moody. Even his nightmares have abated over the last few weeks.
The gym’s busy early in the morning, with a lot of the boys getting their work out in before heading off to the job. I nod at Handlebar and Crash, spotting each other over at a weight bench. Lucky and Solo are working out together, and I see Lock with a few of the patch hopefuls. No sign of Gemini or Domino, though, the presidents of the club. Must mean they’re in the back.
Which means it’s serious business they don’t want anyone else overhearing.
I’m used to dirty work on behalf of the club. As warlords, Muscle and I get a lot of the ‘sensitive’ work that needs to go to someone trusted. As in, we bust heads, shoot knees, and occasionally take ‘care’ of club problems. It’s not for the faint hearted.
Gem and Dom are in their shared office. Dom’s playing a game on his computer but Gem’s hard at work at what looks like a schedule of some kind. I rap my knuckles on the door. “Knock knock.”
“Hello, boys,” Dom says with a big grin, but Gem doesn’t smile. Something’s clearly troubling him.
“You called?”
“Shut the door behind you,” Gem says. Muscle does, and we both take a seat in the office. For a couple of bikers, the office looks a little too clean cut, done in southwestern decor. There’s no cuts, no patches, no leather anywhere, no beers, no chicks, no nothing. This could be the office of a couple of pencil pushing CPAs from Oregon, not a pair of biker presidents running a chain of businesses, both legal and illegal.
