Wicked Lust

  "I should have loaded your ass up with the plug before I put you on that horse. Do you know how good that would have felt with you rocking against that saddle?"

  Sloane's face goes beet red, which causes me to grin at her, and she shakes her head no. "Absolutely not. I wouldn't have let you do that."

  "You would have," I confidently say.

  "No, I wouldn't," she argues.

  "You'd let me fuck you right now if I pulled you off that horse and threw you down in that patch of wildflowers," I tell her as I nod toward the ground, hoping to make that blush go brighter.

  "Not going to happen," she says firmly. "We're out in the open. Anyone could see us."

  "We're miles away from anyone," I counter.

  "The moose might see us, or a bear could sneak up on us," she sniffs.

  Winking at her, I say, "You have a point. I don't think I could battle a moose or bear for you."

  Releasing my hold on her horse, I kick my heels in, give a cluck, and urge my horse to walk again. Because Sloan's horse is also dumb in addition to being fat and lazy, it follows along without a second thought.

  "I have Tuesday night off," I tell her offhandedly, hoping this sounds casual. "Interested in hanging with me?"

  "Like a date?" she asks with wide eyes.

  Hmmmm. Not sure setting up multiple men to fuck her as a surprise is a date, but sure, why not? "Yeah... something like that."

  "Sounds great." Her smile pops with those dimples again.

  Fuck, they kill me.

  "You work an awful lot," she says in contemplation. "Is that par for the course?"

  "Pretty much," I say simply as I scan the area, looking for a place we can stop for a bit. She says she won't let me fuck her out here, but I'm betting I can get her to change her mind. And it's her own fault really... flashing those dimples at me.

  I pull my horse to a halt and dismount. Dropping the reins to the ground, knowing the horse isn't going anywhere, I walk to Sloane's horse and hold my hand up to help her off.

  "Why are we stopping?" She looks down at me with uncertainty, her hands still gripping the horn hard with reins trapped in between. Fucking adorable.

  "Just giving the horses a bit of a break," I lie smoothly to her.

  She accepts what I tell her and releases her grip on the saddle. Ignoring my hand, she swings her leg over but as she starts to lower herself to the ground, I put my hands on her waist and ease her down.

  "Thanks," she says and pushes her hair behind her ears. I've noticed this is a nervous move she makes, and I like that she's on edge with me.

  Turning from her, I take the reins of both horses and lead them over to some rabbitbrush growing near the trail. I toss the reins into the branches, knowing the horses won't move. Pulling a rolled saddle blanket from the back of my mount, I shake it out.

  The trail we had been riding was bordered on one side by a thick grove of juniper, birch, and pine and to the other side by a wide, flat meadow. About a thousand yards further and we'd hit the Snake River. I'd chosen this trail because it rides perpendicular to the mountain range so I'd wow Sloane with the beauty, but mostly because there aren't any cattle on this part of the ranch. No cattle means no cowboys.

  That means privacy.

  Grabbing two bottles of water out of my saddlebag, I tell her, "Follow me."

  I have two choices. Plop the blanket in the meadow grass or move into the woods and hope for a decent spot free of too much of nature's debris. The woods would be ideal, offering more privacy and hopefully loosening Sloane's inhibitions, but I choose the meadow because I like a challenge. Besides, fucking in a field under a bright blue sky? Nothing better.

  I find a nice spot perhaps no more than twenty feet from the trail and lay the blanket down. The grass is fairly sparse and clumps of sagebrush around us sweeten the already pristine air. I sit, stretch my legs out, and nod toward the spot beside me.

  "Take a load off, Right Hook."

  She gives a soft laugh and plops down to my right, crossing her legs and reaching out for a piece of sage. Picking it off, she holds it to her nose, giving it a long sniff. "Mmmm... that smells good."

  "I never get tired of that smell," I say as I tilt my head back to let the sun warm my face a bit. I didn't have my cowboy hat since it was too far out of the way to swing by my house, so I made due with a ball cap I had in my glovebox. Luckily, the sun isn't too brutal today, although I won't keep Sloane out here too long because her skin is definitely on the delicately pale side.

  "So why do you work so hard?" Her voice cuts through my moment of commune with the sun, and I turn to look at her beside me. "You work full time and fill your off hours with extra work. Sounds like a man on a mission to me."

  "I'm taking time off now, aren't I?" I say with a wink and lean toward her. I bring a hand to her thigh and angle my head in for a kiss.

  Her head pulls back and her hands come to my chest. "Seriously... why do you work so hard?"

  Sighing, I give her leg a squeeze, pull away from her, and lay back on the blanket. I plant my feet on the ground and rest my hands on my stomach. It takes no more than a moment for Sloane to mimic my actions and then she's lying on her back beside me, both of us now staring up into the blue Wyoming sky dotted with white clouds.

  "I was married," I tell her simply, but there's nothing simple about this story and it's not one I've told many people. "Five years ago. My wife had some addictions... several actually. Cocaine mostly because Rachel loved to party. But she was also addicted to shopping. She ran up about fifty-thousand dollars of credit card debt that I'm stuck paying."

  Sloane's head pops up, and she turns on her side to face me. I just angle my head to the right so I can see her.

  Her brows are furrowed as she asks, "But isn't that debt split when you divorce? Why do you have to pay it all?"

  "Because we didn't divorce," I tell her. Her eyes flare wide with shock, so I quickly let her off the hook. "She's dead. Been about three years now, and the cards were in our names jointly."

  Sloane places a hand on my chest, and her face melts into a symphony of sorrow. "I'm so sorry."

  "I'm not," I say coldly as I sit up and Sloane's hand falls away. She nibbles on her lower lip with worry and confusion. "I'm glad she's dead. She didn't deserve this life."

  Rearing back, Sloane tilts her head in astonishment as if she couldn't believe I'd say something so cruel about another human being. She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it just as quickly and right there... in her eyes, I see it. She starts to disconnect from me.

  And that just won't do. I told her the truth but not all of it, and I'm not about to lose something else to the destruction that encompassed all that was Rachel Bonham.

  Snaking my hand out, I grab hers and hold onto it before she can pull away further. "She killed our child," I say gruffly. I know it's a bit dramatic, but I need Sloane to understand that despite the drugs, cheating, and running up astronomical bills I couldn't afford, there's only one true reason I'm glad she's dead.

  "What?" Sloane says and she goes to her knees, inches her way closer to me with concern etched over her face.

  Taking a deep breath, I blow it out harshly and tell her what very few people know about me. "She was twelve weeks pregnant. I had no clue, but she went and had an abortion behind my back. I found out from a fucking credit card bill."

  A deep gasp of dismay comes from Sloane's lips, and she whispers, "That bitch. That evil bitch."

  "She was so drugged out, I'm not sure she really cared what she was doing. She died about three weeks after from an overdose."

  "I'm glad," Sloane says, but I know she doesn't really mean it. She doesn't know Rachel or me, but even as heinous as my situation was and as much as she empathizes, I can tell Sloane has a soft heart and wouldn't wish Rachel's horror of a life on anyone.

  I wish I could be as forgiving, but remembering that pain and misery is good for me. It helps to keep me at arm's length from others so I don't fa
ll for that shit again.

  Some would look at me right now, sitting in a sunny meadow with a pretty girl and would just shake their head with humor at the situation, but they'd be wrong in thinking I'm falling for Sloane. No, I like having sex with her. She's cool and all, and fun to hang with, but this is one thing and one thing only.

  It's about dirty sex with an angel-pure type of girl. Once I get her dirtied up, I'm sure I'll cut her loose.

  Chapter 14

  Sloane

  "Where are we going?" I had asked Cain when he showed up at my apartment to pick me up for our date tonight. I wasn't sure how to dress because I hadn't heard from him since our time at the Double J two days ago. Well, except for a short text that said, I'll pick you up at 8pm.

  His response?

  He merely held up a black, silk scarf and said, "It's a surprise."

  In that singular moment, a thrilling quake of adrenaline laced with fear and excitement raced through my body as I suspected Cain was taking me to the sex club.

  I willingly let him tie the scarf around my eyes, shutting me in absolute darkness. He kissed my neck and whispered, "I hope you like it."

  And that was the last thing he said to me.

  He helped me out to his truck and buckled me in.

  He never said another word, despite my questions and nervous chattering. He was purposely ignoring me, which was doing nothing more than focusing that fear and excitement into an almost painful cramp of tension low in my belly and between my legs.

  I have no clue how long it took us to get to our destination. With the silence and tension and darkness, my mind was racing with possibilities, so I stopped paying attention to my physical surroundings.

  "We're here." His voice rumbles low and breaks the silence like the crack of a whip. I jump slightly and my hand rises to the scarf.

  "Don't take it off," he commands me. "Not yet."

  My hand drops, and I hear him get out of the truck. In moments, my door is opening and I feel cool air against my legs as I'm able to get the seatbelt off. The forecast called for the temperature to drop into the mid-50s. Because I wasn't sure if we were going casual or dressy, I chose an outfit that was in between. A mint-green circle skirt, pleated at the waist and flared out, hanging mid-thigh. I paired it with a form-fitting black turtleneck, black tights, and black ankle boots with a high heel. A cheetah-print scarf around my neck, silver hoop earrings, and a swipe of mascara were all the other accessories I'd chosen. I looked mostly sweet, which I've figured enough to know turns Cain on, but the high heel on the booties adds just enough sex appeal that Cain won't forget the other side of me that he's drawn out.

  Cain's hands go to my waist and he lifts me from the truck. When my feet hit the ground, I sense hard-packed dirt as Cain puts one hand at my lower back and takes my other hand to lead me to the great unknown. My heart flutters madly within my chest, going faster and faster as he walks me toward something I'm sure is going to change my world.

  Up three steps that make hollow thumps and creak as we step on them. Wooden, I'm guessing.

  Four more steps, a pause, and I hear Cain turn the knob to a door.

  Is this the sex club?

  We step in, the air feels slightly warmer, and I hear the door close behind me. I'm slightly disoriented as I expected to hear more. I mean, if this is a sex club, I expected voices, maybe some music and moaning. I expected lots of moaning.

  Instead, my ears strain against the silence, and that, accompanied with the darkness I'm still immersed in, causes my pulse to soar practically out of control.

  Cain steps in close to me; I can tell it's him by his smell and the change in the air around me. A hand to the back of my head and the scarf is being pulled away.

  I blink several times, the light around me harsh on my sensitive eyes, and I realize I'm in what looks like a large living room. A couch to my right with a framed painting mounted on the wall. Confused, my eyes slide to Cain's, but then a rustling sound behind him catches my attention. I lean slightly, look past Cain's shoulder, and see a man leaning casually up against the adjacent wall that borders a dark hallway. He stands with his arms crossed across his massive chest, dark brown hair worn in messy, long layers with whiskey-colored eyes.

  He's stunning, but what catches me off guard the most is the strand of thin, white rope in his hands.

  A slight cough behind me causes me to spin.

  Two men stand there, both staring at me with not unfriendly faces, but not with open smiles either. One has a slightly amused look though. They're tall, well built, and extremely good looking. One has blond hair that's shaved on the sides but really long on top, so long it falls to one side and hangs down to almost his jaw. He has a full, thick beard and an eyebrow ring. The other has short, dark hair, eyes just as dark, and a goatee that surrounds a set of generously full lips. He reaches down and rubs his crotch while he stares at me, and wow... just...

  "Sloane," Cain says softly. I whip back to him, feeling like my heart is about to burst forth from my chest. His hands come to my face where they hold me gently, so I focus on him. "This is for you... your fantasy."

  "But--" I start to question.

  So many questions.

  Where are we?

  Who are these men?

  What are they going to do to me?

  Will I die from pleasure?

  Or will this be a terrible, terrible mistake I'm making?

  "No buts," he cuts me off quickly. "I only want to know if you're in or out. I promise you won't be hurt. I promise it will be phenomenal, and you will come over and over again. But if you're in, then we're starting and the only way we're stopping is if you use a safe word, okay?"

  "A safe word?" I mumble, feeling like my thoughts are drowning in mud.

  "You say the word and we stop immediately," he explains. "Normally, a safe word is to stop the application of pain if it gets to be too much, but I promise you that's not what we're doing here. Remember I told you that you're not really cut out for a gang bang? We're modifying things a bit. Giving you a lighter version, okay? But if it gets too overwhelming... too intense... you say the word and we stop. You can't pick the word 'stop' though, because we'll ignore it. I expect you might say that a time or two as things get intense, so choose your word carefully."

  My head swivels, trying to see the three men... trying to see if there are any more.

  "But who are these guys? Where are we?" I ask, mostly in an effort to try to ground myself, but also because I'm confused. Are we in someone's house? This isn't a sex club.

  "The only thing you need to know is that this is private property, you're safe, and these are guys I work with and trust."

  I peek at the large guy standing behind Cain with the rope. He's a bit scary looking in his intensity. "Are you going to introduce me--?"

  "Sloane," Cain says firmly and my eyes slam back to him. "This isn't a social. You're going to get fucked by strangers--and me, of course--but you don't need to know them. They're going to do with you what they want, and that's part of the fantasy, right?"

  "But you're going to be involved too, right?"

  His lips curve up, and he smiles at me in understanding. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

  "And... um... I don't think I'm ready for..." My words trail off, complete embarrassment overtaking me that these men are listening to this.

  "No cocks in your ass tonight," Cain affirms with a chuckle. "I've already told them it's mine, but that doesn't mean other things won't be in there."

  A massive shudder hits me from his words. While I can see that amuses Cain, it also turns his eyes dark... the green disappearing and the brown overflowing, which I've come to recognize as hot desire.

  So now it's decision time. I can be a big girl, tell myself this is all to further my career because it will help me get better intel. I reason to myself that if I go through with this, show Cain how much I love it--even if I have to fake it--then he'll invite me into the club. I keep him interested with m
y adventurous innocence, worm my way in, and find exactly what I need to write my article.

  Or... I can be honest with myself and admit that I might possibly be doing this for other reasons. Maybe perhaps because I feel something with Cain that I've never felt before. Something has awakened inside of me, and it seems to be begging for more.

  And if I go ahead and admit that to myself, what does this mean for Cain and me? Once this is over and done with, will he look at me the same? If it's different, will it be increased desire or disgust?

  This concerns me.

  "Cain," I whisper as I lean in toward him, my hands coming to rest on his chest while he still frames my face with his own. "What about us?"

  "What about us?" he asks in a low voice, his eyes searching mine for clarification.

  "Well... how do you feel about other men... with me? I mean, there's no way in hell I'd let you do this with four girls. It doesn't seem to make sense to me."

  Understanding fills his eyes, lightening them up a bit. He gives me a sympathetic smile and a soft kiss. "Sloane... this fantasy of yours... it turns me the fuck on. Thinking about and watching you get pleasured... I've been obsessed with the idea since you told me. Trust me... this is as much for me as it is for you. I think you've figured my tastes run on the kinky side, right?"

  I nod, because yeah... I figured that out.

  I have no clue if this will really turn Cain on or end our relationship. I have to trust him when he says he's cool with this, and the reason I have to trust him is because I have to also trust his promise that I won't be hurt. I am putting my life and part of my soul in his hands right now, because I will be changed by this experience. Of that, there is no doubt.

  Taking a deep breath, I give him permission to let the games begin. "Then my word safe word is Tennessee."

  Cain slams his mouth on me for a deep and possessive kiss with hands now gripping my jawline tightly and his entire body pressed to mine. I go dizzy, try to latch onto his arms, but he's pulling away and releasing me.

  He takes a step back and to the right, and the man with the rope in his hand comes into full view. He is truly magnificent both in form and face. He's bigger than Cain and the other two guys, with muscles bulging under a tight, navy blue t-shirt and soft, faded jeans. His eyes are lasered onto me as he casually saunters forward, one hand holding the rope, the other letting his fingers idly stroke the silken-looking fibers.