"What's up?" he says as he walks back to his desk, straightening up what looks to be spreadsheets strewn across the wood surface.
"Need to ask you for some advice," I tell him straight up as I take a seat on the couch, propping an ankle on my knee.
"I'm listening."
"I've got this girl," I tell him.
"You got a girl?" he asks in amazement.
"Well, not like a girlfriend or anything. We're fucking and--"
"As in more than once?"
"Yes, more than once," I say in irritation, and Bridger chuckles. "Anyway... she has this fantasy of getting fucked by multiple guys."
"Dirty girl," Bridger says in amusement. "You know how to pick 'em."
"Actually no," I tell him soberly. "She's sweet. Kind of naive about this stuff, but she's adventurous. I figured what the hell... I've got the means to give her what she wants."
"You want to soil her," Bridger says, and the sentiment is so accurate that I rear backward on the couch a bit.
"Why would you say that?" I ask in astonishment, a bit wigged out he pinpointed my very innermost dilemma.
"It's a classic fantasy," Bridger says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Trust me... the prince didn't want to just kiss Snow White to wake her up. He wanted to fuck the innocence out of her."
I snort and shake my head. "You've ruined that movie and my childhood for me."
"The point is, in our line of work, purity is like a gateway drug. You find someone who is ignorant of this world but has a tiny curiosity, and the possibilities are endless. You do a little nasty to her, watch her shriek louder than anyone you've ever been with, and you're hooked. You want more."
Holy shit, this guy is freaky accurate. I'm thinking the minute I sank that plug in Sloane's ass was the moment I might have become addicted to her. When I pulled it out as she was coming and watched her thrash in the throes of the most magnificent orgasm ever, I became irrevocably lost to the notion of doing more to her.
"So I should give her the fantasy?" I ask him for clarification.
"I like a good gang bang," Bridger says with a laugh. "Easy enough to arrange."
"Yeah, can't do that exactly," I say as I scratch my head with a sheepish smile.
"Why's that?"
"She... well, I don't think she could really handle something like that. It would have to be toned down."
"That can be done. Just need to pick the right people," he observes.
"I was thinking Rand and Logan for sure."
Bridger nods in agreement. "If some guy-on-guy action turns her on, I'm sure they'd be glad to oblige."
"I'm sure," I drily say. "They'd fuck a watermelon if that turned her on."
"Want me to join you?" Bridger asks, and I blink in surprise at him. Bridger rarely participates in anything outside of the few BDSM members he services. Past that, he does his fucking in private... usually right here in this office.
"I don't want to put you out, man," I say hastily. "But I'd probably set it up early next week."
"No trouble," he assures me. "Sounds fun."
Yeah, fun and Bridger don't exactly go hand in hand, but I'm not going to pass up this opportunity. While he's a master with the lash, he's also the most intuitive person I've ever met when it comes to reading people's sexual desires. I want this to be good for Sloane. While she's going to get off with what we'll do to her, I know Bridger can maximize it.
"Will you direct?" I ask him, because in these situations, it's easy for it to get out of control. I know Bridger will be able to read Sloane like a book and deliver to her what she needs.
"Sure," he says with a smile. "But once you put me in control, I won't give it up."
His tone is firm but there's an ominous ring to it. It gives me a slight shiver.
"You got it, boss," I say as I stand from the couch with a two-handed slap to my thighs. "Now I better get back to work."
"Take the rest of the night off," Bridger says as he looks back down to his spreadsheets. "Go see your girl."
"She's not really my girl," I feel compelled to clarify.
Bridger snickers without taking his eyes off his work in front of me. "Go see your girl," he commands. "Consider it an extra bonus for the excellent work you did with Mr. Stokes."
"But it's a Saturday night."
"Go see your fucking girl," Bridger snarls.
I open my mouth to argue with him further about the nature of my relationship with Sloane, but then I think about her all curled up in her bed, maybe even in a conservative nightgown that deserves to be ripped from her body, and I can't help myself. I ignore Bridger's "my girl" comment and give him a nod of thanks.
He doesn't see it though because he's intently focused on the work in front of him, and I'm already forgotten.
Chapter 12
Sloane
Something heavy on me starts to rouse me from sleep.
The hand over my mouth and the one between my legs causes a stab of electric fear to slam into me, and I'm fully awake. I'm disoriented for only a minute as I take in the fact my bedside lamp is now on, a man is on top of me and his fingers inching under my panties. Just as I start to try to buck him off with a surge of fear-induced adrenaline, I realize it's Cain on top of me, grinning down.
"It's me," he whispers.
"Nnnhh shhttt," I yell into his hand, and he removes it. I clarify in a more moderate voice. "No shit."
He laughs, leans down, and gives me a deep kiss just as his fingers brush through me. "Surprise."
"How did you get in?" I ask, trying to sound mad but gasping in pleasure as one finger slides home.
"Your lock was ridiculously easy to open with my driver's license," he says, holding that finger still inside of me for the moment. "I was going to knock, but then I just couldn't resist the surprise."
"You're lucky I don't sleep with a gun," I tell him.
"I checked under your pillow first," he says, and then curls his finger upward. I groan and tilt my hips, and he laughs again... this time in triumph.
"What are you doing here?" I ask in a strangled voice, my mind starting to disconnect and my body starting to take over as evidenced by my hips rotating against his finger.
"I'm here to get you off," he says as he rolls to my side and props himself up casually on his elbow while still keeping his other hand lodged between my legs. He looks calm, utterly relaxed, and slightly mischievous.
"You're supposed to be working," I say sternly, then my eyes roll in the back of my head as he pulls his finger out and starts to rub it on my clit.
"Shut up, Sloane." His voice is amused, but his eyes are intent. "Let me get you off and then we can talk."
Okay, if I must.
I close my eyes and let him do whatever he wants to me, because my desire to have him get me off takes precedence over my curiosity to know why he's not at work.
Sloane, wake up.
Come on, Sloane... it's time to get up.
I hear the voice, but I'm so warm, sated, and sleepy. I ignore it. Strong arms are wrapped around me, and I feel the sweet call of slumber pulling me back under.
Hands moving on me, sliding up my ribs, over to my breast... nice, and I'm not sure if this is real or a dream, but I'm digging it.
A sharp pinch on my nipple, followed by a hard twist, and I give out a surprised yip of pain and shoot up out of my dream state, right off the mattress.
I'm confused as Cain is pushing me back down and latching his mouth to said tweaked nipple, rolling his tongue over it in gentle, soothing strokes.
And holy hell that feels good with the tingle of pain still sizzling beneath it.
Cain raises his head and looks up at me with a grin. "Told you to get up."
"That hurt," I whine softly as I bring my hand up to prod at my sore nipple.
"I know," he says with a triumphant gleam in his eye. "But you liked it... admit it."
"No," I say in a petulant voice, but it doesn't have much strength behind it because damn, that
was amazing.
"Yes," he argues with me.
"No," I bicker back.
His hand latches onto my wrist and in an abrupt change that leaves me spinning, he's pulling me out of the bed. "Come on and get a shower. I'm taking you out to the Double J today."
"What?" I ask in confusion. I stumble slightly as he pulls me out of my bedroom and down the hall.
"My friend Woolf's ranch," he explains. "I have to do some work out there today, and I'm bringing you with me. I'll have some time to take you horseback riding."
"Wait... no, I can't," I say as I pull against his hold. It makes no difference; he pulls me right into the bathroom. "I have to be at work at ten."
"Call in sick," he says as he reaches into the shower and turns the water on.
"But I'm not sick," I say resolutely.
We're both naked so standing in my little bathroom makes me acutely aware of his magnetic sexuality. I force myself to hold eye contact with him and not drop down to that massive dick that spent plenty of time between my legs last night. After I got over the shock of him breaking into my apartment, I immediately submitted to his wicked ways. He did, indeed, get me off with just his fingers. I was so wrecked after that, we didn't bother with any conversation as he promised. Instead, he played my body to his satisfaction, which included a slightly larger butt plug he insisted I try because as he said, "It will feel amazing as I'm fucking you from behind."
I flush warm just thinking about it because it felt like nothing I've ever experienced before, every thrust into my body rattling the plug within me, causing it to bump and jostle against nerves back there I never knew existed prior to meeting Cain Bonham.
"Hmmmmm," Cain hums low in his throat as he steps into me... a knowing look on his face. "Whatcha thinkin' about? Your face sort of got red there."
"Nothing," I say as I give a slight cough to clear my throat. "Now, about work--"
He steps in closer, and I feel his erection brush against my stomach.
I will not look down.
I will not look down.
I will not look down.
Cain grabs my hand, startling me, and hauls my body toward him. Right to his cock where he curls my fingers around it and makes me squeeze him hard. He groans from the sensation and then with his grip on my hand, makes me stroke him up and down. His eyes flutter closed, he removes his hand from mine, and he says, "Yeah... just like that, Sloane."
My eyes drop immediately and I look down at my hand, looking so small as it's wrapped around his hard girth. I squeeze harder and increase the pace of my strokes, fascinated as fluid leaks from the tip, hits my hand, and lubes his skin for me. I stare in absolute fascination, feeling tingles break out all over my body as I jack this sexy man off. I want to watch him come, have it hit my stomach with warm bursts and hopefully deep groans from him.
"Take off work today," Cain says in a hoarse voice as his hand comes back to mine. He grips me hard and stops my movement, holding me absolutely still. His dick jumps in my hand, but he ignores it.
My head snaps up to his and while a sizzle of lust still remains deep in his eyes, I also see something else there. Almost a need that can't be assuaged with my hand on his cock.
I've got an immensely strong work ethic. While this may just be a cover job, I don't like to leave people hanging. I've never in my life called in sick when I wasn't.
But when I see Cain looking at me like this... pleading for something--I'm not sure he even knows what, nor do I--it causes something inside me to shift. I've not been able to exactly figure out what Cain and I have going on here, because up until this moment, it's really just been sex. But now it's turning into something different and I have to make a decision how to roll with it.
If I say yes, I could lose my job. Ultimately, not a problem, as the magazine is paying my expenses. I'd get the added benefit of possibly gaining a further foothold within Cain Bonham's world. This, I need, if I'm going to do the job that's being demanded of me by Brant. On its face, it seems like the best move for my undercover operation.
But that's the part that's causing me doubt. I don't want to spend the day with Cain just so I can figure out how better to use him. I want to get to know him, find out his story, and connect to him on more than just a sexual existence. I'm thinking he wants that to. Otherwise, why would he invite me?
"Why are you doing this?" I whisper suddenly. If I'm to figure out what to do, I need to know his motivation.
"Doing what?" he asks with surprise.
"Asking me to spend the day with you," I say with a small degree of skepticism. "I thought what we had was just sexual."
"Who says I'm not going to fuck you at the Double J?" he asks with a mischievous smile.
"Because this is just sex, right?" I ask him for clarification, not giving into his amusement.
The smile slides off Cain's face and his eyes sober. Batting my hand away from his dick, he steps in closer to me, leans his face down to compensate for the difference in our height, and murmurs, "Not just sex, Sloane. Fucking amazing sex. Mind-blowing sex. Trust me when I say I'm coming back for more of it."
My heart instantly pangs with hurt that he doesn't feel a connection like I thought, but then it becomes immediately relieved when I realize I can just concentrate on my job and use Cain to my advantage.
But then he causes another sharp stab of emotion when he touches his mouth to mine briefly before saying, "But that's not what today is. I figured you'd like to see some of Wyoming and there's no prettier place than the Double J. I only have to do a few things for Woolf, and then I can take you out horseback riding."
Shit.
Damn, shit, damn, shit.
I might have doubted myself before now, but the minute he says those words and I realize there's more to Cain Bonham than just unbelievable orgasms, I know I've got some major feelings twisted into this. Otherwise, the excitement of spending some time with this complex man wouldn't be warring so hard with the guilt I'm feeling for the way in which I'll ultimately take advantage of him.
Chapter 13
Cain
"You're awful quiet," I say as our horses plod alongside each other.
Sloane turns that beautiful face... one I always think of as sweetly innocent... and gives me a smile so bright it almost hurts to look at it. Those two dimples fascinate me because they do the weirdest thing and make me want to smile back at her just as big.
"It's just so beautiful," she says as her face turns back toward the Teton mountain range. "I mean... our mountains in Tennessee are lovely, but these are incomparable."
True enough. On this bright summer day, the riot of colors on the range is stunning. Deep green grass and trees, slate blue rock formations, and snowy white peaks. I'll never get tired of it.
Sloane hung out at the barn while I did some minor repairs on one of the stall doors. It wasn't an urgently needed fix, but Woolf always throws work my way when he can and I'm appreciative of that. It took no more than an hour of my time and then I got two horses saddled. Because Sloane was an inexperienced rider, I put her on the fattest, laziest horse in Woolf's stock and assured her she wouldn't move faster than a snail. She was nervous at first but once she realized this was just a relaxing ride over some well-worn trails, she gave over to the thrill of the scenery and I think forgot she was on a horse, despite the fact she was still clutching the horn as if her life depended on it.
"So... you're like a cowboy or something?" Sloane asks out of the blue, her eyes still set on the mountain range ahead of us.
"The Double J employs a lot of people. I worked through high school here and part time in between other jobs."
"And you were in the Marines, huh?"
"The tattoo's kind of obvious, right?" I chuckle.
"It does kind of stare me right in the face when you're on top of me," she says primly, and my chuckle turns into an outright laugh.
She'd be right about that. In a moment of pure stupidity when I was eighteen and had just graduat
ed boot camp, me and my buddies went out and got tattoos to display our pride in being Marines. I opted for a devil dog on my right pec. A tough-looking bulldog with a severe underbite and a Marine Corps collar around its thick neck. It glared out from my chest with the letters U.S.M.C. tattooed underneath in red and gold.
"I was in for six years and admittedly, that tattoo was a mistake," I tell her.
"What did you do in the Marines?"
"Infantry," I tell her simply. "It's why I ended up back here in Wyoming after I got out. Not a lot of transferrable skills in that MOS."
"MOS?"
"Sorry," I tell her as I tug on the reins slightly to move my horse closer to hers. "Military Occupational Specialty. I was 0351... an assaultman. I basically operated an anti-tank weapon."
"Were you in Afghanistan?" she asks, her gaze now coming to mine with somber curiosity.
"Twice."
"Is that how you got your scar?" she asks, and I blink at her in surprise. No woman I've been with has ever asked me that question. Granted... it's been a long time since I've been on a date with one, and granted... most times I'm just giving a hard fucking to someone over at The Silo and there's no opportunity for questions, but the simple way in which she asks catches me off guard. It's not with a morbid curiosity, but rather a desire to know me better. I can see in her eyes the truth of that because she doesn't drop her gaze from mine.
Shaking my head, I tell her, "Afraid it's not that glamorous of a story. I was working at a bar over in Idaho. A jealous husband came in looking for his wife. Tried to drag her out by the hair. I took exception to it, and he took exception to me taking exception to it. He got me with a broken beer bottle."
"Holy crap," she says with her jaw hanging low. "Was he arrested?"
"Nope," I tell her with a smirk. "But I kicked his ass after that. I was satisfied with the outcome."
"You're such a badass," she says with a giggle and fuck... but I love that sound. So young, carefree... makes me want to turn that giggle into a moan of lust-filled passion. That's probably not going to happen out here, so I'll settle for a blush.
"You know what I should have done?" I say as I reach out to grab the reins of her horse, right near the bridle so I can bring it to a halt with me.
She turns slightly in her saddle to look at me, both hands still clutching hard on the horn. "What's that?"