Wicked Knight

by Sawyer Bennett

  Before I can set my phone back down, it rings. While I’m tired as hell and really don’t want to talk to anyone, I see it’s the one person who is always there for me. “Hey, Mom. Is everything okay?”

  “Of course, honey,” she replies with a laugh. God, I love her laugh, and it makes me smile. “Can’t I just call my daughter to see how her day is going?”

  Sucking in a breath, I refuse to give into emotion. My mom is calling to check on her only daughter, so I do what I always do with my mom. I paint a gloriously rosy picture. In essence, I lie to her.

  “Everything is great,” I say cheerily. “Just got off work and heading home now.”

  Instead of, “I miss my daughter, my ex-husband’s an ass who does everything he can to ruin my time with her, and, oh yeah… I broke a vase today worth seventy-five grand, but hey… no worries. I’ll just pick up a fourth job to work and pay it off.”

  I don’t tell her any of that because Carol Brantley busted her ass to raise me and my brothers. Now it’s her time to put her worries to rest when it comes to us. As such, I’ve done a damn good job of keeping most of the ugly stuff hidden from her.

  That includes how badly I’m failing at life. Of course, she’s aware Nelson has primary custody, but that’s all she knows. She doesn’t have a clue it’s a constant fight to get my basic visitation rights, that I have to work three jobs to support myself and my daughter through child support payments, and certainly she’ll never know I gained an additional seventy-five-thousand dollars of debt today.

  She’s also in the dark about the fact I help my two younger brothers out with money as needed. They’re good guys, but both are immature. Toby, the youngest at twenty-one and six years my junior, got a DUI a few months ago. I helped to pay for his lawyer. Frank, who is twenty-two, is struggling to cover the payments on a way-too-expensive truck he bought while working on a road crew for the State Department of Transportation. It’s growing pains for my little brothers, but I’d rather them come to me than Mom because she already paid her dues while raising us.

  Settling in for the drive home, I listen to Mom chatter about the mums she planted in the front yard in anticipation of fall, and how she’s making a poke cake for her church’s bake sale this weekend.

  When I turn into my neighborhood and see my house, I notice a tow truck sitting out front. My foot hits the brake pedal, and I come to a fast stop.

  My little Nissan Sentra is about to be repoed. I’d known missing the last few payments on the car and ignoring their demand letters would catch up to me, but that was the money I sent to Toby for his DUI. I thought I’d be able to catch up on the payments, but it just didn’t happen.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say softly. “I have to go. Got to get ready for work.”

  “You work too hard,” she replies sadly.

  “Nah…” I play it off. “I like being busy.”

  “You’re a great mom, Hannah. I know what you do is all for Hope. If you need help, you only have to ask.”

  “I got it covered,” I assure her. “But thank you. Now, I have to go. Love you.”

  “Love you,” she says, and I hang up.

  After checking my mirrors, I execute a U-turn and head in the opposite direction from my house. My car isn’t getting taken today.

  I drive straight to my next job. I’d wanted to take a quick shower and grab something to eat while at home. Luckily, I keep a change of clothes in my car. I’ll just have sweaty armpits and gnawing hunger for eight hours tonight while I schlep beers for drunks, but hey… at least I still have my car.

  When I pull into the parking lot across the street from the bar where I work—a dive place simply called Joe’s—I reach into my purse and pull out the bill for seventy-five grand Asher Knight gave me before he left for work this morning. Running my finger under the phone number at the top, I dial.

  There’s no way he can know it’s me calling, yet he answers in a smooth voice that’s filled with rich undercurrents of sex and sin. “Hello, Hannah.”

  “I accept your offer,” I say, swallowing the disappointment in myself.

  I try to reason with myself about the truth of my life. I have an asshole ex-husband who unfairly has full custody, and I’m diligently squirreling away money to hire an attorney to win my daughter back. My child support obligation is non-negotiable, as is helping my younger brothers with money as I can. To make it all workable, I eat mostly Ramen oodles, or I don’t eat at all. I spend virtually no money on myself, and I work three jobs. Let’s not forget I have a car I can’t afford, a repo man on my ass to collect, and I’m essentially now on the run to protect my transportation so I can work the three jobs needed to do all the above.

  And now, I owe a man seventy-five grand.

  Of these three things currently weighing me down, there’s at least something I can do about one.

  I can get Asher Knight’s debt off me, which will be freeing.

  “I want you in red,” he orders, and I have no clue what he’s talking about.

  “Red?” I mutter.

  “Red silk panties. Bra is optional. Red dress, too. Oh, and wear your hair down.”

  “What part about me being flat broke don’t you understand?” I snap. “I can’t afford that.”

  He ignores me. “Tomorrow night. Be at my place at ten. I’ll have clothing waiting for you.”

  I grimace, not over his high-handed attitude, but over the fact that I secretly love red lingerie. It looks great with my skin tone.

  At least, I think it does. Hell, it’s been so long since I could afford any like that I might not be remembering correctly.

  “I can’t tomorrow night,” I say. “I have to work. But I could probably get a night off next week.”

  “Tomorrow night,” he merely says, and it makes me roll my eyes in frustration.

  “I have a job. Responsibilities. I can’t just—”

  “Five thousand dollars,” he says, and the words cut sharp across my tirade, making me go mute.

  My voice is raspy. “Pardon?”

  “Five thousand dollars,” he repeats. “I’m sure that will compensate for the tips you’ll miss out on tomorrow night. Call in sick. I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”

  Five thousand dollars?

  Does he know what a figure like that could do for me? It wouldn’t go toward my car, my brothers, or even food for myself.

  No, it would let me retain an attorney to fight for custody for Hope.

  I don’t even have to consider. “I’ll be at your place at ten.”

  His laugh is low and husky, causing a shiver to run up my spine. “Can’t wait,” he murmurs before disconnecting the call.

  CHAPTER 3

  Asher

  I can’t figure out if she’s putting on an act, but Hannah isn’t behaving like I expected her to. I figured she’d be pretty pissed I backed her into this corner, so I was prepared to deal with a sour attitude. Instead, from the moment she showed up at my door wearing jeans, a threadbare t-shirt, and perfume that smelled like cinnamon spice, she has displayed nothing but a cavalier attitude about going to a sex club with a stranger.

  It tells me she has backbone, which makes her even sexier because I’ll enjoy making her bend to me.

  I shift into third gear, the engine of my McLaren 720S whining to be let loose, but that’s not going to happen driving the downtown streets of Vegas. The skirt to the miniscule red dress I’d picked out for Hannah rides high on her legs, but she hasn’t tried to tug it down once. My gaze has wandered there a time or two, and Hannah knows it.

  There’s not an ounce of nervousness I’ve detected so far. The only thing she’s shown me since we left my apartment was brash curiosity. “What kind of man forgives a seventy-five-K debt and throws an extra five thousand cash on top for one night with a woman?”

  “A rich one, I expect,” I reply without taking my eyes off the road. “Although I assure you, this is the first time I’ve ever made such an offer.”

  “I’m so l
ucky,” she mutters dryly. “Why me? What’s so special about me?”

  Not sure if she’s looking for flattery, but I’m not that great at giving it with a measure of restraint. Sure… I could growl in her ear that I love how tight her cunt is, but softer stuff isn’t my thing.

  So I merely shrug. “It doesn’t have anything to do with special. I just like to indulge whims.”

  She’s not offended. “Makes sense.”

  “I would hope so.” My tone is bland. “I work hard for my money, so I enjoy the fuck out it.”

  Hannah drums her fingers on the top of her bare thigh, drawing my attention to that pale skin. I want to bruise it with my teeth, and I hope to fuck she returns the favor.

  “What exactly do you do for a living?” she inquires sweetly.

  My eyes cut back to the road. “Land development.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I buy up chunks of property and create shopping centers, subdivisions, or retail office space.”

  “Interesting,” she murmurs, but I doubt she believes it since she doesn’t ask anything more about what I do.

  But I’m curious about this woman who would accept my offer of a night of sex with a stranger to forgive a huge debt. “So you’re a maid and a bartender, but you said you worked three jobs. What’s your other?”

  “Online customer service support for a phone company,” she says with absolutely no enthusiasm. And why would she? Her jobs are awful. “I pick up shifts when I have time here and there.”

  “What’s your last name?” I ask, wincing with disappointment in myself that I’d even waste breath on such an inconsequential detail.

  “Madigan,” she says, turning to look out the window as I pull in front of The Onyx casino.

  “We’re going gambling?” she asks as a valet rushes to open her door.

  “The Wicked Horse is on the top floor.” Another valet opens my door. I pull a twenty out of my wallet as a tip before handing the keys to him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Knight,” the kid says appreciatively.

  After I give him a nod, I round the front of my car to meet Hannah on the sidewalk. She looks amazing with bare shoulders, sleek legs, and her mahogany locks spilling down her back. I’m going to fist the fuck out of it tonight.

  Men’s heads turn because it’s hard not to notice a woman like her, and my gut burns with anger that they are eyeballing her. Pushing it down, I offer her my arm.

  She takes it without thought, walking beside me into the lobby of the casino. Turning toward a private elevator with the neon Wicked Horse logo sign above it, I steer my date that way.

  When we’re inside ascending to the top floor, Hannah asks, “So, what exactly is a sex club? I mean… you can have sex with me at your apartment. What’s so great about this place?”

  “It’s better if you just see for yourself, but the short answer has a lot to do with adding the excitement of fucking in front of others. You’re not shy… are you, Hannah?”

  She shrugs, and her tone is blasé. “No one will know me here.”

  Chuckling, I put my hand over the one of hers tucked into the crook of my arm. “That’s the spirit.”

  I’m rewarded with a sly smile as the elevator doors open.

  The Wicked Horse Vegas is modeled after the original, which opened in Wyoming inside a large silo. The owner, Bridger Payne, wanted a place for people to be able to let loose on their sexual inhibitions without fear of judgment or reprisal. The members of this club are kinky, sensual, and adventurous. Fucking in front of others is only half the fun, but it’s the best part in my opinion.

  The hostess at the podium greets me with a smile. “Good evening, Mr. Knight.”

  I smile back and lead Hannah around her, noticing the surprised reactions I get from some of the regulars. They’ve never seen me come in with a woman on my arm because it’s just not something I do. Instead, I meet women here, fuck them, and then leave alone.

  I usher Hannah over to a long bar in what is known as the Social Room. It’s a place to meet and mingle. Perhaps have a cocktail or two if someone needs to loosen up. I don’t know if Hannah needs that or not, but I’m not in a rush.

  “What would you like to drink?” I ask as we step up to an empty spot. There are no stools. That way, it encourages people to move around and meet others.

  “White wine,” she says. “Any type. I’m not picky or savvy enough to tell good from bad.”

  I would imagine a woman who has to work three menial jobs wouldn’t know much about the fine distinction amongst wines, but I never cared much for that stuff anyway. I’m a bourbon man myself.

  I order drinks while Hannah casually takes in the scene around her. Leaning an arm on top of the bar, I cross one ankle over the other and study her without shame of getting caught ogling.

  Her gaze comes to me, and she lifts her chin. “Like what you see?”

  “From the moment I checked out your ass in that horrid maid’s uniform,” I admit.

  The bartender returns with our drinks. After I pay him, I hand her a glass of wine and she takes a dainty sip. I ignore my bourbon for the time being.

  “There are different rooms here that we can choose to play in,” I say. She startles slightly before her eyebrows rise in curiosity. Smiling, I lean closer. “There’s the Waterfall Room where everything gets very wet. Good for oral sex as long as you don’t drown yourself while you’re at it.”

  Hannah laughs, and I like that she has a good sense of humor.

  “The Deck is outdoor fucking on a clear acrylic surface that looks forty stories down,” I continue.

  She shakes her head. “Afraid of heights.”

  “Noted,” I acknowledge with an incline of my head. “The Silo is intense, and I wouldn’t start a newbie with it.”

  “Why not?” she asks with wide eyes.

  “Are St. Andrew’s crosses and industrial dildos your thing?” I ask playfully.

  Her face flushes and she ducks her head slightly, taking a sip of her wine to forestall answering me. When she brings those lovely eyes back my way, she admits, “I don’t know. Never tried either.”

  God, what I wouldn’t give to put her on one of Jerico’s fuck machines. He’s got a new one that hoists a woman into the air, so she can be placed in any number of amazing positions. Put a woman upside down in it and spread her legs, and a mechanical dildo will jackhammer her from above. I would kill to watch Hannah come that way.

  But I only have her for one night, and I don’t want to send her running. “I think we’ll start with the Orgy Room.”

  Her head pops up, eyes flaring wider.

  “It’s sort of self-explanatory.” I grin.

  She avoids saying anything by taking another sip of wine, this one resembling more of a gulp. I use the opportunity to slide a finger under the thin spaghetti strap at her shoulder.

  Hannah freezes, her eyes pinned on mine.

  “You have no idea the things I want to do to you in this club.” My words are truthful. Dropping my attention down to where I’m barely touching her skin, I slide my finger out, turn my hand, and graze my knuckles over her breast. I continue back and forth a few times until I feel a nipple harden through the silk. My cock responds, thickening against the confines of my pants. “I wonder if you’re wet for me, Hannah?”

  “What?” she rasps.

  “You said you weren’t attracted to me,” I murmur, reminding her about her brash words yesterday. “Were you lying to me?”

  When she doesn’t respond, I glance back up to her face, finding her eyes burning with something undefinable.

  My knuckles travel along the underside of her breast, down the side of her ribs, and over her hip. My gaze follows its path. I give a playful tug when I reach the hem of the red silk dress I picked out for her to wear today. Lifting my head to see her face, I meet her stare head-on.

  “Spread your legs a little,” I whisper, taking a step into her space.

  Her breath rushes out
and she shakes her head, but it wasn’t done with enough strength to get me to back off.

  “Open your legs.” I repeat it as a command.

  She obeys me without question, and I move in closer.

  “Good girl,” I praise, bending my neck until my forehead just touches hers. I lower my voice. “Let me see what you feel like.”

  God, but I fucking love the way she moans as my hand inches under her dress. I haven’t even really touched her, yet I can tell she’s turned on. She shifts, spreading her legs perhaps a bit more for me.

  My fingers reach the juncture of her legs, seeking the lacy edge of the panties I also bought for her. They were delicately made, totally see-through, and would ride high on her hips.

  Instead, my fingers meet soft curls. I jerk back so I can see her face. She smirks, and I can’t help the lazy smile of appreciation that spreads on my face that she disobeyed me by not wearing the panties I’d told her to. The smile curves into a wicked grin as I realize she’s been naked under that dress all this time, and I now have easy access to her cunt.

  Running my finger through the lips of her sex, I feel the heat and wetness that lets me know she is most definitely attracted to me.

  I consider getting her off right here for everyone to see. It’s not normally done… not in the Social Room, that is. But it’s also not against the rules.

  Hannah stares at me before giving a tiny lick of her lower lip. Her expression exudes a confidence in her sexuality. While it’s clear this isn’t how she prefers to handle a debt, she’s enjoying what we have going in this moment.

  Removing my hand from between her legs, I relish in the slight tinge of disappointment that flashes over her, then take a step backward. “Let’s finish our drinks, so I can show you around the place.”

  Yeah… I’m going to take her into every room, introduce her to the hedonism this club has available, and then get my due from her.

  CHAPTER 4

  Hannah

  How my legs are even supporting me at this point is a true miracle. Perhaps to torture me or to just get me in the mood, Asher gave me a tour of the entire club. It included each room he had described except for the Deck. He was surprisingly gallant about not needling me about my fear of heights.