Their Private Need (Death Lords MC 3)

“Not true.” Michigan growls. “I need you all the fucking time.”

“Same,” Easy says.

“Okay but you don’t need need me. You’re fine without me.”

“Not fine.” Michigan shakes his head.

“Agreed. Would not be fucking fine at all,” Easy adds.

I throw up my hands. “You’re using me then for all your needs and wants, but hell, I’m using you back.”

“Hope so.” Easy leans down and kisses me. Even Michigan has a slight smile on his face. It’s kind of a ridiculous conversation.

“You three are disgusting,” Mom hisses but for some reason her insults make me laugh. Maybe it’s because she’s so obviously jealous.

“Then you should leave because you aren’t wanted here. And I’m not helping you get a penny of that money. I’d rather it rot in the bank than allow you to have a cent.”

She curls her lip. “I don’t regret leaving you and your father, not even for a minute.”

The barb hurts but it doesn’t dig as deep as it could have. Behind me are my men, the ones who’ll do anything for me. My mother left me; my father wanted me dead but the two men who warm my bed at night and watch over me during the day are worth all that stuff in the past.

“I don’t regret it either,” I say honestly. “Who knows what person I would have turned into if I was exposed to your kind of poison on a daily basis? Please leave now.”

Easy strides over and throws the door open. She huffs like the witch she is but finally leaves. We don’t even watch her after the door is closed on her butt.

Instead, Michigan and Easy follow me down the hall and when we’re inside the safety of our bedroom, I turn to face them. “Do I want to know what went down tonight?”

Michigan folds his arms and looks mulish, like a child who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

Easy, on the other hand, sits down on the edge of the bed and starts unlacing his boots. “We aren’t a bunch of Boy Scouts. Our patches aren’t earned based on how many old ladies we help across the street or how many different knots we can tie.”

“I know that,” I say quietly.

“It had to happen,” he says.

Behind him Michigan makes a low pained sound. His hands are fisted at his side and when I lift my eyes to meet his, I stumble back under the near physical blow the anguish in his expression delivers. He is so certain I’m going to reject him, and yet he carried out his actions regardless, believing in the rightness of his deeds.

I didn't grow up alone like Michigan and I didn’t have a big family like Easy. I’m not a member of any club. But I understand that these men would not sleep at night if they believed something existed out there that could pose a danger to me.

And while Easy uses his good humor as a shield, he believes just as strongly as Michigan or the grip around his boots wouldn’t be so tight. It is an eye for an eye philosophy. The Death Lords didn’t get its reputation by granting mercy. My father's fate was sealed the minute he touched me in anger.

Deep down, I knew that his comeuppance would be delivered and that if I had a problem with it, I should have left them long ago. Before I got out of the hospital and certainly before I moved into this house and made my promises to them.

I could look backward or I could move forward. Maybe I was closing my eyes to a huge monstrosity. Other people might not understand. Still others would say that justice should’ve been served in the court system. The Death Lords mete out their own justice. I hold out my hand.

"Come here.” Easy’s tight grip eases and his smile reemerges. Michigan stumbles forward and I curl my hand around his neck, tugging him in for a kiss. I infuse as much love and forgiveness and acceptance I can. Michigan breaks away and pushes me toward Easy who catches me. I fall into his embrace and kiss him too, a passionate, hungry kiss that gives as much as it takes.

When we pause to breathe, I cup Easy’s rough cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me.” I turn to Michigan and draw him down to eye level. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Always, sweetheart,” Michigan says. He covers my hand and lifts it to his mouth to press a wet kiss in the center.

“We protect what’s ours,” Easy says in a rare moment of somberness.

Someday I might unpack this event and look at it differently. But for now I accept the two men that I love are flawed, possessive, and vengeful human beings. But that I can't live without them.

Easy turns me to face Michigan and pulls me into the cradle of his hips. He lifts the hair off of my neck and kisses the bare skin he’s exposed. Michigan kneels in front of me and gently lifts my shirt up and off.

He runs his big hand down over my breasts and I suck in a breath as my body responds immediately.

“I think your left breast is bigger than your right.” He cups each one in his hand and jostles them lightly as if trying to guess their weight by mere feel. My nipples harden. “They’re extra sensitive too.”

He blows on them and I can’t stop the shivering response. Behind me Easy chuckles. “Let’s see what other parts of her body are sensitive.”

The two take turns undressing me and then I tackle their clothes until we are all nude. We tumble onto the bed. Michigan captures my mouth as Easy strokes two fingers between my legs.

They get me hotter than a five-alarm fire in less time than it takes for ice to melt in July.

But soon the light touches aren’t enough to slake the insatiable hunger they’ve roused. Not Easy’s fingers in my sex or Michigan’s tongue in my mouth. After a moderate amount of begging, I find myself on my knees with my wrists shackled in Easy’s loose grip behind me. Michigan is feeding me his big cock and Easy’s rubbing his rod against my very wet core.

Michigan’s shaft tastes salty and primitive. I lean forward to take him deeper.

“Want more, sweetheart?” Michigan asks. His voice is dark and low. I nod eagerly. “Then let me hear you ask for it.”

“I want you, Michigan.”

“How?” he demands.

Easy pulls on my hair until my neck is fully exposed. “Use your dirtiest words, Little Red, or he won’t feel welcome.”