Page 17 of Hard Ruck

“Breakfast!” Storm shouted.

I winced. The cottage wasn’t so big that he needed to shout for us to hear.

“I guess we better get up.” I stretched my arms up over my head and reluctantly rolled over and searched for my clothes.

It was her turn to wince when she got up and started to hunt for hers. And by hers, I mean she was snatching up clothes and trying to figure out what would fit. We hadn’t been gentle with her outfit last night. Most of it was now scraps of fabric, with strands of thread hanging loose and broken.

Oops.

A few minutes later, we were both dressed in a mishmash of T-shirts, track pants and underwear. I was almost certain the green boxers were mine. If not, too bad. They fit, so I wore them.

The Smashers T-shirt and black track pants were definitely not Chelsea’s, but she looked adorable in the oversized clothes. Good enough to eat.

We stepped into the kitchen as Storm flipped eggs and toast onto plates and poured coffee into cups. That looked good enough to eat too. The smell made my mouth water.

“You’ll spoil us,” I warned.

He shrugged but didn’t look over at me. “Maybe you deserve it.”

“Definitely,” I agreed. I snagged a plate and pulled out forks from a drawer.

Chelsea grimaced as she sat down at the table. “You wanted to talk about Atlas.” She directed the statement to Storm.

“Yeah.” He sat down beside me, opposite her.

Dallas, a towel wrapped around his waist, took the last chair. “Are we sharing with him too?”

“That’s up to Chelsea,” Storm said. He nodded towards her before shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“I like him,” she said. “You think you can manage to avoid killing him?”

For some reason, she seemed to be asking that literally.

“We can try,” Storm said. “Until you realise he’s a stone cold asshole.” He seemed certain that would be the ultimate outcome.

Personally, and in spite of everything, that was the outcome I hoped for. The guy was hot, but I couldn’t see how this would work when he hated us as much as he did. And vice versa. If we couldn’t get past that, we’d have a major problem. I, for one, was not walking away from Chelsea. Especially not because of him.

“One day at a time then,” she said. “I have another month left of my practical placement. We all need to be professional until I’m done with that. And after that too, if the team gives me a job. Otherwise I’ll have no choice but to go back to?—”

“No,” us three said in unison.

“We don’t want you stripping anymore,” I said firmly. Apparently Storm was rubbing off on me, in more ways than one.

The idea of the men leering at her, looking at her body as she took her clothes off, made me want to stab my fork into their eyeballs. Watching her dance was hot as hell and made me iron hard, but I wanted to keep that just for us. For the guys she was in a relationship with. Not for random strangers who happened to be in the club that night.

Added to that, the idea of stepping foot back in there made me uncomfortable. Before I even met Chelsea, I fucked another of the women who worked there. Ivy was pretty enough, and she got me off, but for some reason, I felt like I’d cheated. I’d seen Chelsea and I still put my dick in another woman. I couldn’t have known where we’d end up, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to kick my own ass.

“Not gonna happen,” Storm agreed. “You’re ours now. No more sharing you like that. Even if we have to tie you up here.” He gave her a dark look as if daring her to contradict him.

“All the more incentive for you to behave yourselves at work,” she said, scolding lightly. “Don’t make my job more difficult and I have a better chance of being able to stay there.”

I looked at her thoughtfully. “I kinda like the idea of tying you up here. I could stay and feed you.”

“As touching as that is, I have a life I’d like to keep leading,” she said. “Let’s leave the tying up to times like this.”

I pouted playfully. “Fine. For now.” I wasn’t ruling it out for the future.

Chapter Eight

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