Page 14 of Rider Daddies (Venom Vultures MC #6)

What else was I supposed to do?

I fling my arms over my chest, giving them the side-eye. “Seriously? We’re gonna do this right before opening?”

“You know what happens if you do that again,” he warns.

“Let me guess—the night will end in the three of you setting out to ‘punish’ me. That sure worked out well for you.”

I stop what I’m doing for a moment, placing my hands over the bar. “Maybe I’m missing something, another rule set by your master or whatever, but what’s the big deal? Really? This is only a bit of fun. Come on. I was around you all last night. Your kind aren’t the jealous type.”

I chew on my lip, thinking for a moment. “I made it very clear the night I got here that all I’m looking for is something regretful…something temporary.”

Ouch, why does that second word sting so much?

“Why did you feel the need to ‘punish’ me last night for how I acted behind the bar?” I swipe my hands back over my chest again, leaning forward. “I made you a small fortune last night. Who cares if I whisper a few flirtatious comments and get a little handsy? It’s all in the name of money.”

Crickets. The three of them watch me like they’re waiting for more.

I squint my eyes. “Or was the whole ‘punishing me’ spiel just an excuse to get your hands on me?”

“An excuse,” Ryder spits out, as if the idea is preposterous.

Convincing…

It’s important to note that the three of them were totally against my idea to have them all. Is it too smug of me to believe that I charged in here the other night and ruffled a few feathers? Have I made the brothers jealous ?

I saw the sour looks on their faces. Ryder and Ash were standing together at the door looking like they were ready to fall out of it. And Saint…I’ve seen hospital walls with more color than his face.

I could be clutching at straws. Let’s be honest—Saint made a very valid point last night. I enjoyed laying it on thick with the club members last night, squeezing every last cent out of them. It made me feel powerful. I’m not familiar with being the center of attention.

Come to think of it, that’s probably why my own wetness is leaking down my thighs every time I’m in the vicinity of the brothers. They make me feel special.

Even drying one of the taps triggers my dirty mind.

I keep having wild visions of them all coming on my body.

Maybe it’s a premonition.

“Are you okay, Lucia?”

Ash’s husky voice jolts me from my thoughts. I find my hands still around the tap, the towel long abandoned.

Way to go, Lucia.

“I’m fine,” I say, bending over to retrieve the towel. “Just thinking about last night, that’s all.”

Ryder joins the conversation, his dashing face brightening. “Which part?”

“Tristan,” I blurt out.

I can’t tell them the truth. Everybody knows that motorcyclists are walking egos. They probably tell themselves that they’re hot shit every night before bed.

They also don’t need me telling them the truth, going off on a tangent telling them how horny they made me last night. They saw my pussy. Licked my wetness from a leather belt.

They know it made me horny.

Which is why Ash joins me behind the bar, inches away from my face. “I have a confession to make. We —” He side-eyes his younger brothers. “Have a confession to make.”

I throw the towel over my shoulder and lean against the bar. “Go on.”

“We all want to claim you as ours.”

Claim? What is this? A fucking wolf pack? Do they intend to cock their leg and mark me as theirs to ward off all the others?

Cult.

I fucking called it the night I arrived.

I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re gonna need to elaborate.”

“There’s one thing you should know about this place. All of the women here are free to do as they please, speak to and entertain any man they want. But if a woman happens to be claimed , she can only be touched by the man or men that claimed her.”

Men?

“It’s in the code of conduct,” adds Ryder. “Men can only claim one woman, and once that claim has been made, it’s nontransferable.”

“What does that make me? A concert ticket?”

Their faces remain serious.

Laughing on the inside I’m sure.

“Look,” continues Ash. “Last night made us realize that we like you. I speak on behalf of all three of us when I say that.”

Like? What does that translate to in the real world?

They want to fuck me?

Love me?

God forbid it’s the latter.

Mentally, physically, and emotionally, I’m in no place to get into another relationship. In fact, after the Tristan shit show, I think I’ll stay single for the rest of my life and die alone.

“Let me get this right. I’m not allowed to touch another man if you three ‘claim’ me?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Ryder interjects. “Who said anything about all three of us claiming you? No, darling, the ball is in your court. If this is something that interests you, you may choose between one of us.”

Something that interests me?

They make it sound like it’s a fucking sales pitch.

“You know the score, boys. Three or none.”

Saint glares at his two older brothers like they’re letting him down.

“And anyway, I’m gonna have to read the terms and conditions. Can I still interact with men in, like, the real world?”

“Not unless you want us to slit their throats.”

That answers my next question.

I stare into their cool, hard eyes and feel my pussy grow a heartbeat. Why do they have this effect on me?

Better yet, why does the idea of being “claimed” have me soaking through my panties?

Maybe this whole thing isn’t as serious as I’m making it out to be. Motorcyclists are all for a good time—they made that crystal clear when I crashed their party. Drinks are limitless. Social taboos don’t exist.

For a sweet, lawful citizen like me, it could be a lot of fun. I haven’t gotten laid properly in a year, and I’ve never really experienced a life-shattering orgasm. In that department, I know I’m in capable hands.

“How long does the claim last?” I ask.

“As long as the tattoo on your ass,” Saint answers.

“And what will the tattoo say?”

“We mark our names so that you’re our property,” Ryder jumps in.

My pussy flutters.

Damn, to be property of three biker brothers would really be something.

But it won’t last forever. I might have been here all but two days, but I know men well enough to be sure that a year from now, they’ll be getting bored and moving on to the next girl.

They’re all the same.

Too predictable.

Tristan was the same. He moved fast, asking me to be his girlfriend way sooner than I expected. Men like to own and possess. The bikers here have just given it a more exciting label.

Also, tattoo removal is a thing. It might sting like a bitch, but when I’m over them, all I have to do is book myself in for an appointment.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Saint bats his weirdly long eyelashes. “What?”

“Yeah. What the hell? It’s just a bit of fun. Why not?”

“Darling,” Ash says, “I think you have us mistaken. Tattoos are permanent.”

Love is supposed to be too.

“No, I haven’t mistaken you at all. It sounds thrilling.”

“This isn’t just a bit of fun,” Ryder says. “It’s for life.”

Like marriage and all things good and right in the world.

“Yes.” I stick my hand on my hip. “I understand all of that. There’s just one technicality that you’re not getting. I can’t choose one. For this to work, I need you all.”

That takes the breath from their lungs.

Ash turns over his shoulder to address his younger brothers.

“Deal,” Saint says.

“What the fuck, man?” Ryder hits his head. “You can’t make decisions without consulting the rest of us first.”

“What’s there to decide? Lucia is a beautiful girl that we clearly cannot stay away from. We all have our names on her ass? So what? We share a woman. That doesn’t mean we have to all be in the room at the same time.”

Actually, it does, but I keep my mouth shut. I know we’ll get around to that at some point. Plus, it’s nice to have them all fighting over me.

“Okay, so it’s decided,” Ash says. “After tonight, we’ll take you to the tattoo parlor and get you branded.”

I bite my lip. Does that mean I get to be naked in front of them?

Damn, it’s gonna be a long fucking night.

We break from the team meeting and get to work. Saint heads up to the DJ booth and organizes his set for the night, while Ash, Ryder and I finish preparing the bar.

I think the fallout is already starting—Saint already looks like he wants to take the cigarette from his mouth and shove it down his brothers’ throats.

My pulse spikes in the most exciting way, a heat forming between my legs. When one of them next passes me at the bar, I make sure to stick out my ass and make a show of bending over.

Something hard brushes against my hamstring, filling me with pleasurable sensations.

Tristan can walk in on me getting my tattoo tonight if he wants. I’d love to see all of the pride drain away from his face.

I make last-minute preparations and organize tables, preparing for opening. The sun is down. Through the windows, I can see stars glittering in the night sky…

And something else.

A shadow passes by the window. I stop what I’m doing and pace over, hands gripping the edge of the window to peer out.

Nothing.

“I swear I just saw something.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Ryder says, hands curled around my waist. “It’ll just be one of the boys getting home late.”

I relax into his embrace.

Why does this feel so comfortable?

I look down at his arms and get a good look at the bullet wound.

“How did you get this?” I trace the outer ring.

Immediately, Ryder removes his hands and takes a few steps back. “It’s er—nothing. Just a bit of play fighting.”

I turn around from the window and study him. Eye contact with him up until this point has been very consistent. Now, he’s avoiding my eyes and rushing over to the front door to take his position as security guard.

Do I smell shit?

Why has he suddenly put a ten-foot pole between us?

There’s definitely more than what meets the eye with them. A whole backstory of trauma that they’re trying to keep hidden.