Shared & Protected

by J P Books

  I’ve always hated flying more than anyone else in my family. There’s something terrifying about being so high in the air and relying on the pilot to get us back on the ground safely that keeps me on edge the entire time. Thankfully, Tyler and Wesley have been keeping me company through our group chat.

  Tyler is getting everything at the new penthouse ready for me, and I can’t wait to see it. I’ve begged and begged for pictures, but he wanted it to be a surprise. The only preview he’d give me was a picture of the bed and the view it had looking out over New York City.

  I still can’t quite believe that I’m actually doing this. I’m moving to New York to go to school and live with Wesley and Tyler.

  I knew that this kind of relationship would come with a new territory for me, but I never imagined it would be like this. They’re the ones that really pushed for me to continue my education. I wanted to focus on school after I quit my job at Red Royale, but I wasn’t sure that I could get back into the groove. I’d already spent two years out in the real world, living as an adult. Going back to an environment that required a different kind of focus might be a hard sell for me.

  Still, they pushed for me to give it a second shot. They told me that they had connections in New York, and they could probably get me into any university I wanted so long as they wrote a letter of recommendation for me.

  Dad was elated when I told him about their plans. After they’d saved the house and kept him from being homeless, he quickly became their biggest fans. When we finally broke down and told him about our strange new relationship, he seemed perplexed but more than willing to listen to us explain why it made sense for us.

  He gave us something more than Mark ever did. Mark hasn’t talked to me since I explained to him what we’re doing. I understand that he’s pissed, but he has to understand where I’m coming from. I care about these guys more than anyone I’ve ever been with. I’ve had feelings for them since before I could even drive.

  None of that made a difference to Mark, though. I don’t know why I expected anything more from him. When he found out that dad was in a tough spot, he simply shrugged and said that it was “rough.”

  I used to wonder whether he’d come around and see how wrong he was to turn us away in our time of need, but I think he’s too far gone. Ever since mom died, he’s become someone I don’t even recognize. It used to break my heart, but I have to give up the ghost. I have to move on and just hope that someday he’ll see how wrong he is. How he could’ve helped dad but didn’t. How it was his old best friends that stepped up to the plate.

  Wesley and Tyler tried their hardest to get my father out of that contract. They looked over it again and again with their lawyers, but it was airtight. The only thing that was left to do was give David his money and never speak to him again. I handed over the check begrudgingly, and though they told me not to worry about it, I swore to pay them back.

  I’m not exactly sure how I’ll have the money considering I’ll be a full-time student again, but I’ll find some way. I have to show them that I’m grateful for all the help they’ve done. They saved our lives, whether they want to accept the title of “hero” or not.

  The plane ride is much smoother with the guys talking to me, and I don’t even realize it’s time to put up the trays and buckle up until the stewardess comes by and gently reminds me of what the pilot said. I tell them goodbye and that I’ll see them in a few minutes.

  When we land and I make it to the terminal, I practically throw myself into Wesley and Tyler’s arms. We tried dating long distance for the past three months, but it’s been so hard when all I want to do is touch them and feel their bodies against mine.

  “I missed you,” I say into Tyler’s shoulder, squeezing him tight.

  He lets out the most adorable chuckle and says, “I missed you too.”

  Wesley clears his throat. “I missed you the most.”

  The two of them help me with my bags and we head out to the car they’ve called for us. I can hardly sit still the entire ride. I want to see every sight New York has to offer, but I also want to spend the rest of the day looking at the two of them. It’s hard to pick, so I don’t. I go back and forth, staring out the windows and then turning back to look at them.

  We barely make it to the new penthouse that Tyler and Wesley own before the clothes come off. I haven’t seen them in a month, at least not in person, and I can’t keep my hands to myself. Tyler helps remove my blouse and my bra, and Wesley quickly undoes the belt around his waist. He unzips and unbuttons his pants, pushing them down to his ankles and taking a seat on the sofa.

  I hike my skirt up to my hips and meet him on the sofa, taking a seat in his lap. Immediately our lips connect and I brush my tongue over his, exploring his mouth, tasting his tongue with my own. Our teeth meet once or twice, and I try to dial back some of the eagerness I feel. I can’t help it, though. I want it all. I want to feel every part of him, to run my lips and tongue over every inch of him that I can.

  When I feel him grab hold of himself and slide inside of me, my toes curl in my sandals. I let out a moan and my head falls back, soaking in the pleasure every last inch of him gives me. Only when he’s buried to the base do I begin to move, rolling my hips and bouncing in his lap.

  It’s been so long since I’ve felt this that I lose myself in the feeling for just a moment. So much that I don’t even realize Tyler is behind me, kissing my neck as I ride Wesley. The two of them have become my biggest weakness, next to dad, and I’ve fully accepted this truth. When the three of us are together, there’s nothing I won’t do for either of them.

  Wesley’s hands find my hips and he begins guiding me up and down in sync, burying himself inside of me, over and over, filling me as much as possible. His fingers tease my clit in circles, and the feeling makes me weak in the knees. It’s like the breath pulled from my lungs. It leaves me breathless, gasping and moaning as I ride him.

  “I’m almost there,” I pant, grinding down against him. “Make me come, Wes, please. I need it.”

  Wesley reaches up and steals me from Tyler, burying his tongue in my mouth as he thrusts his cock deeper inside of me. That’s all I need to get me there. I moan against his tongue, crying out as my hips snap faster than before. I feel weak in his arms, like I just may faint, but I keep my head on as best I can, desperately bouncing on him. Pleasure threatens to pull me underneath its wave, and I let go, swimming in the feeling.

  Only when I come down from the ecstasy do I realize that we came at the same time. He holds me with both arms, still emptying himself, pumping me full. His lips find mine again, it’s as if we become one. When he’s left gasping for air, he presses his forehead to mine, a smile on his perfect lips.

  Tyler runs his hands up and down my body, stopping at my hips. He places his chin on my shoulder and drags his nose along the curve of my ear. “How good did he feel?”

  “So good,” I murmur, a matching smile on my face. After my answer, Tyler leans in closer, practically cheek to cheek with me.

  “Are you ready for me now, baby?”

  Wesley alone is enough to satisfy me, but the thought of Tyler, sweet in the streets and dominant in the sheets Tyler, taking me next makes my toes curl again and a strangled moan vibrate in my throat.

  “I’m ready.”

  I’ve never been more ready for something.

  THE END

  Her Biker Protectors

  CHAPTER 1

  Alexa

  Reaching over to adjust the radio station, I can see and feel my hand shaking.

  Pissed off, I grip the wheel hard, refusing to give in to my nerves.

  I’m pissed at myself for somehow getting into this situation, but more pissed off at Matt for bringing me to this point.

  It’s nearly unbelievable, I think to myself. It’s something that you hear about in the news but never think could possibly happen to you. Not in real life. Not in a million years.

  I can
feel hot tears prickle behind my eyes and I slam my back against the seat as I take a deep breath, refusing to give in to the urge to break down.

  Not here. Not now. Not yet.

  I still have a long way to go before I can even think about having a meltdown.

  I don’t even know where I’m going. Which is good, I think. If I don’t know, he can’t know.

  I pulled out of my home in Las Vegas a few hours after it got dark, knowing that he’d be working at the casino until the early hours of the morning and not able to follow me for at least eight hours. Probably more.

  By then, I could be nearly in Colorado or New Mexico. I can’t go to Arizona or Utah, he knows that I have friends and family there. I have to go further.

  The teen fiction series I’d been reading recently was set in New Mexico and for no other reason than that, I had a vague destination in mind.

  I doubt Matt will think to reference my books when he tries to track me down. And he will try. I can feel my heart racing again as the thought demands attention.

  Matt will not give me up easily.

  How could a person change so much in two years? When we first met, I had thought he was my soulmate – love at first sight means forever, doesn’t it?

  Forever in paradise lasted about three months, but it took me over a year to really accept it.

  It had been so easy to just shrug off his little comments at first. He must not realize how offensive it sounds or how much it hurts me when he makes those little digs at my outfits or weight, I thought to myself.

  He just misses me and wants to spend all his time with me, I told myself firmly when he started grilling me about my business meetups and client sessions. Jealousy means he loves me, doesn’t it?

  For a while, it was fun to send him little love texts throughout the day to let him know I was thinking of him. Sometimes it was even hot, adding a little teaser to the message to make sure he was looking forward to getting home to me at the end of his day.

  But it wasn’t so fun when I got too busy to text, or if I forgot. At first, the yelling was just at home. I’m sure our neighbors could hear, but nobody ever said anything. But eventually, not even my regular texts made him happy. He’d make a scene when we were out on dates, having a great time one minute and then the next he’d freak out on me when I mentioned a client or a project I was working on.

  People at the restaurant or movie theatre would turn to look at us, some of them annoyed at the disturbance, some of them giggling like it was taboo to watch some couple fighting in the middle of the day. Every now and then I’d catch the eye of another woman, and her look would either be of pity or anger. The pity made me want to throw up.

  I’m a strong, independent woman. I own my own business, pay my rent and keep myself alive, I’d scream in my head. Don’t pity me!

  But part of me knew why she was giving me that look. And that part of me cringed and hid away in the dark corners of my mind, too embarrassed to even admit that I knew something was wrong.

  The looks of anger made me angry in turn. Not angry at Matt, as I’m sure the stranger was feeling, but anger at the stranger, looking into our lives and judging us. How does she think she has the right to judge, I’d rage in my mind. She doesn’t know us. He could be totally justified in yelling at me right now. It could be totally my fault!

  But I’d always known it wasn’t my fault, and that unknown woman was right to be angry. But that part of me didn’t want to be wrong and crawled to hide with the embarrassed part of me.

  Two years Matt and I had been together. And at least 1 and a half of those years I spent cringing and confused and wondering what the hell I did wrong. Instead of acknowledging the warning signs, accepting that the problem was with Matt and not me, I internalized them. I took responsibility. I figured that the man, the beautiful, funny and kind man I had fallen in love with, must have a reason to act the way he was. I must be giving him a reason.

  It was my fault our happily ever after was in jeopardy. I needed to fix it.

  I spent more of my time trying to fix what was wrong with my relationship than I did trying to have a responsible, functioning adult life. My friends gave up on me eventually, when I had ignored their warnings too many times. My freelance business was suffering. Turns out clients don’t love it when you have to break every half hour to use your phone, no matter what your excuses are.

  So when I finally broke up with him, I didn’t have a lot of support to turn to. No friends and a floundering business. But I had finally left him, I cling to that thought proudly.

  It should have been enough. I should have been able to pick up the pieces and start putting them back together. If I worked harder on my business, I know I could convince clients to trust me again - I'm a damn good designer and my portfolio should speak for itself.

  I was sure I could work my way back into my friends’ lives too, with time and effort.

  But he wouldn’t let me go. I don’t know why I was surprised.

  Even though I didn’t answer his texts, he would send them. Sometimes 50 or more a day. He was always so sweet, but I knew better. I stayed strong.

  Until the one time I agreed to meet him for coffee. I finally got tired of the messages and thought that if he heard it from me directly, maybe it’d sink in. Maybe then he’d leave me alone.

  But that’s when he threatened me.

  “You were nothing before me. You’re nothing without me. If you don’t come back to me, I will make sure nothing at all is left of you.”

  I can still hear the words in my mind, feel his fingers digging into my arm. I absently rub the spot that had been bruised for a week, remembering.

  Of course, I had gone to the police, but they did nothing. I had no real evidence. He didn’t have any kind of record and I had never reported any of his behaviors before, so there was no credibility to my accusation.

  They said they’d start a file, but that was all they could do. Start a file, I fume. Start a fucking file, I can feel the shakes starting again, but I can’t stop the memories from flooding back.

  Three days had gone by without a word from him. I thought maybe he had realized how far he had gone and regretted it. Maybe he had finally decided to chill out and leave me alone.

  But today he had shown up at the coffee shop where he knows I meet all my new clients. I don’t know how he knew I’d be meeting someone, but he did.

  Only 5 minutes into our discussion, he stormed through the door, yelling and throwing his arms around, accusing the poor guy I was meeting of being my lover. Calling me a cheating whore in front of everyone there.

  My never-going-to-call-me potential client was just a young guy, obviously shy and he had no idea how to handle the situation. He just squeaked his chair back and bolted out the door.

  The manager of the coffee shop came over and told Matt to get out. I’ve never been so grateful to anyone in my life.

  Matt didn’t argue with him, he just took one look at the phone in his hand and said, “Sorry buddy, I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I just over-reacted.” And then he looked at me and said, “I’ll see you at home, after work, baby,” with a look in his eyes that said he knew where I had moved and I better be there when he showed up at my door.

  The coffee shop owner shook his head as he watched Matt leave and told me I should dump the asshole, but then just went back to work.

  I considered asking him to act as a witness for me and to come back to the police station to report it again, but I didn’t want to drag him into my drama of life.

  I knew I couldn’t stay in town though. I couldn’t stay at home. I couldn’t be there when he showed up.

  I waited, shaking over my coffee for two hours before being brave enough to leave. I went straight to the police office to register the second complaint. They said if I could provide a witness they’d take it more seriously, but otherwise, it would just be another note on file.

  So now I have two notes on
a fucking file and I’m terrified for my life.

  And then I went home, threw a few outfits into my suitcase and waited for it to get dark.

  I didn’t want anyone to see me leave. I didn’t want him to be able to get any information out of my neighbors. I wanted so desperately to just disappear.

  When I finally crept out the door, carrying my bag and trying not to make any noise, I had to stop myself from running. Walking casually was the hardest thing I think I’ve ever done in my life.

  And now, here I am, on a desert road with a single bag of belongings and no real clue of where I’m headed.

  My first stop had been at the bank, to take all my money out so I wouldn’t have to use credit cards or leave any trail. I left my phone on the bed. I don’t know how people track other people, but I didn’t want to take any chances with Matt.

  I just got in the car and started driving. I didn’t want to take a direct route anywhere, so I kept turning off towards places that might be where I would go.

  Head towards the Grand Canyon, but don’t go there. Maybe that will throw him off for another few hours.

  Take backroads when I see them. I’m not in any hurry to get anywhere specifically. Just to get away. And to make it as hard as possible to be followed.

  That’s what I had done about half an hour ago. Taken a back road, off the highway. I’d been driving for over eight hours, stopping only to fill up on gas and grab snacks and lots of coffee for the road. I’d had a few pee breaks but was very careful to choose rest stops that were either very crowded, and one person would go unnoticed, or very rural, where there was no one to see me at all.

  So far, so good.

  But now, glancing down, I see a little red light start blinking on the dash behind my wheel. That little red light throws me out of my reverie and makes me really pay attention to my surroundings.

  The sun is just beginning to rise and I can faintly see the smoke wafting from the front hood of my car. Alarmed, I pull over to the side of the road immediately. Opening up the hood lets out a billow of smoke and I start to panic.