Angel
“You two aren’t serial killers, right?” she asked.
The big one—Jackhammer laughed, and Ghost just shook his head at her.
They were getting along well when a young guy ran into the bar, bloody and shouting something about a rival gang shooting.
She should have gotten up and left right then and there, but there was something about the two big bikers who were talking her up that had her glued to the barstool.
And when the one named Ghost asked her to stick around and wait for him and Jackhammer to get back, she found herself agreeing to give them an hour before she gave up waiting for them.
She had grown up in an MC. Her father was the club’s Prez in the small town where she lived.
She was familiar with the lifestyle—especially the threats made by rival clubs.
It was how she lost her dad—and her man.
She swore that she was finished with that life.
She promised herself that she wasn’t going to step foot in an MC ever again—but they were all just lies that she told herself to get through the tough spots.
The door finally banged open, and the brothers filed in, boots heavy on the floorboards, voices loud, the scent of gunpowder and sweat trailing after them. Relief rippled through the room.
And then she saw them. Ghost first, his cut spattered in blood, his jaw tight, and his eyes darker than before he left. Jackhammer was right behind him, his knuckles raw and bleeding.
Angel’s breath caught. She told herself she wouldn’t run to them.
Wouldn’t let them see how worried she’d been while waiting for them to get back—even though she had just met the two of them.
But when Ghost’s eyes swept the room and landed on her— and when Jackhammer’s gaze followed—Angel felt it.
The pull between the three of them was real.
Two men who were carved by violence, bound together by something she didn’t understand, were staring her down. Two men who, for reasons she couldn’t name, looked at her like she was the only thing keeping the ghosts from swallowing them whole.
Angel swallowed hard and forced herself to stay on that barstool, even though every nerve in her body screamed to move, to go to them and touch them both. She wanted them to be hers, but could they really belong to her or anyone else?
They were back, and for now, that was enough. For some reason, Angel couldn’t shake the truth sinking into her bones—that one day, the road would try to take them. The road always took the men in her life. And she knew that she wouldn’t survive losing even one of them—let alone both.
She stood from her stool as they made their way across the now crowded barroom to her.
“You’re back,” she said, trying for casual but failing miserably.
She could hear the fear in her voice, and she wondered if they picked up on that, too.
They framed her body with their own big bodies, effectively cutting her off from the rest of the guys in the room.
The way that they looked at her felt like an intimate touch, and there was no way that she’d be able to walk away from either of them now.
“I only want one night,” she squeaked, not sure if she had even said those words aloud. “Nothing more.” Both men smiled at her, and she knew that they had heard her.
“One night,” Ghost repeated. “I think that Hammer and I can give you that, honey,” he promised.
“We can use my place upstairs,” Jackhammer said, nodding to the stairs that led up to what she assumed to be rooms or small apartments.
She had lived in one of them when she was just a girl, living with her father over the bar that he owned.
It was a convenient way for him to keep an eye on the place in case any of their rivals wanted to show up in the night.
“You sure about this, honey?” Ghost asked. She wasn’t, but there was no way that she’d tell him that. Tonight was going to be just for her, and if the two guys staring her down got some pleasure in the bargain, so be it.
“I’m sure,” she almost whispered. That seemed to be all either of them needed as they crowded closer to her.
Angel’s pulse thundered in her ears as she stood trapped between them, Jackhammer’s massive body radiating heat in front of her while Ghost’s breath grazed her ear from behind.
She should’ve been afraid—of their intensity, of the sheer madness of what they were suggesting—but instead her body burned with want.
“You can’t both—” She swallowed hard, voice breaking. “It doesn’t work like that.”
Jackhammer smirked, his thumb stroking her chin as he tilted her face up. “Baby, it works however the hell we say it does. You promised to be ours tonight, Angel, and we’re not going to go easy on you. Are you still good with that?”
She nodded, not really thinking about another option. Not giving in to what she wanted from them wasn’t how she wanted things to play out.
Ghost’s lips brushed her neck, making her shiver. “And we say you’re ours tonight. Both of ours—together.”
Her knees nearly buckled when Jackhammer’s mouth claimed hers, hungry and rough, while Ghost’s hands slid around her waist, tugging her back against his hard body. The sensation of both men at once made her dizzy, overwhelmed, and her mind was blank except for the flood of heat pouring through her.
“God, you’re shaking,” Jackhammer growled against her mouth, pulling back just enough to see her. “Tell us to stop if you don’t want this, Angel.”
“I—” Her voice broke into a moan when Ghost’s teeth grazed her shoulder. “I don’t want you to stop.” That was all the permission they seemed to need.
Jackhammer lifted her off her feet like she weighed nothing, carrying her toward the room that Ghost rented above the clubhouse.
Ghost followed close, his hands on her thighs as Jackhammer pushed into the room and laid her out on the bed.
Both of them stripped out of their clothes, leaving tattoos and muscles bared just for her under the dim light.
Her breath caught at the sight of them. The two men—both gorgeous, both dangerous—looking at her like she was the center of their world and their next meal. Angel couldn’t help her shiver, anticipating what they were about to do to her.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, unable to stop herself.
Ghost chuckled low. “Holy shit is right. You don’t know what you’ve just agreed to.” She watched as he palmed his cock, shamelessly stroking himself as though putting on a show for her.
Jackhammer crawled onto the bed first, his massive body covering hers as his mouth devoured hers again.
Ghost slid in beside them, his hand gliding up her leg, fingers tracing the inside of her thigh until she gasped.
The feeling of both of them touching her at once—Jackhammer’s demanding kiss, Ghost’s slow, teasing strokes—left her trembling, writhing between them.
“Easy,” Jackhammer murmured, lips ghosting her ear. “We’re gonna take our time with you.”
“Or maybe not,” Ghost rasped, biting at her lip before kissing her again. “Been dying to bury myself in you since the second I laid eyes on you downstairs.”
They undressed her together, hands tugging, caressing, teasing until she was bare and flushed under their hungry stares.
And then they worshipped her—Jackhammer’s mouth hot and rough on her chest while Ghost’s tongue teased lower, his fingers curling inside her until she cried out.
Every nerve in her body lit with pleasure, her hands fisting in their hair, her voice breaking as she begged them both for more.
And when Jackhammer finally slid inside her, filling her so deep she sobbed his name, Ghost was there too—stroking her, kissing her, whispering filth and promises in her ear.
They moved around her, against her, with her, until she didn’t know where one ended and the other began.
They didn’t stop until she shattered again and again, their bodies driving her higher every time.
By the end, she was wrecked—sweaty, trembling, sprawled across the sheets with both men tangled around her.
Jackhammer kissed her temple, his voice raw. “Told you, baby. You’re ours.” For the night, her mind whispered in reply. They were words that she wasn’t willing to say out loud for fear that they’d get up and walk out on her. They had promised her the whole night, and she planned on collecting.
Ghost pressed his lips to her shoulder, his hand tight over her stomach. “Ours.”
Angel closed her eyes, tears pricking despite the bliss still humming through her. For once in her life, she didn’t feel like she had to fight anyone for attention. She was surrounded by it—consumed by it. And she never wanted it to end.