“So what did you and Hope end up doing this weekend?” he asks, and another jolt of surprise hits me. I hadn’t thought Asher was interested in much other than my body.
“We went to the movies. Afterward, she convinced me into taking her to a pet store just to visit the animals, but then tried to talk me into getting a cat.”
Asher laughs, leaning an elbow on the table. “I’m assuming you stood strong?”
“I’m allergic to them,” I reply with a smirk. “It was an emphatic no.”
“Way to hang tough, Hannah.”
I give a wistful sigh. “Maybe a dog one day. If I get Hope back, I think a dog would be good for us.”
“What’s going on with that?” he asks, and it still seems like he’s genuinely interested.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”
Asher frowns. “Do what?”
“Wine and dine me,” I say. “Well, wine me anyway. You know I’m a sure bet.”
He’s not offended, only laughs at me. Leaning in, he murmurs, “Trust me, Hannah. I know the terms of our agreement exactly. But I feel like relaxing a bit with a drink, so how about you indulge me and answer my question?”
It seems legit, so I try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that gathers in my chest at the thought he’s interested in something other than my body. I give a frustrated sigh. “I can’t get the attorney to call me back. I mean, he said he’d file the motion after thirty days of consistent employment, which would be the end of this week. I’ve left a few messages for him over the last few days, but he won’t call me back.”
“That’s bullshit,” Asher growls as he straightens slightly.
I shrug. “I’ll call again tomorrow.”
“Let me call my attorney tomorrow.”
“What?” I exclaim. Taking in the solid set of his shoulders, I realize he’s not joking. “No. You don’t need to do that. Besides, I already paid a retainer to this guy and—”
“I’m calling my attorney tomorrow,” he says, completely talking right over me. “I’ll see what can be done.”
“Asher…” I’m stuck between wanting to repel his help because I don’t want any reasons to like him more than I already do… and dancing a jig for joy because I’m desperate to get Hope back and I’m tired of waiting.
He smiles at me, but then his gaze moves over my shoulder. I turn to see a very handsome man coming our way, his eyes locked onto Asher, who steps around the table to meet him.
They shake hands, and the man claps Asher on the shoulder. “Good to see you, man. You haven’t been coming in as much.”
That’s interesting. We haven’t been coming here together as much during the weekdays. I’d say about half the time, Asher seems to prefer me in his bed. If it’s not in the morning, then he comes home from work before I leave and drags me in there. And for the last two weeks, he’s taken to staying at my house so he can have his way with me on the weekend.
Both men turn my way, and the stranger doesn’t look me up and down as so many others in this club have. He only sticks his hand out and says, “Jerico Jameson.”
“Jerico owns this place,” Asher explains, then completes the introduction. “This is Hannah.”
I straighten as I shake Jerico’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well,” he says. With a twinkle in his eye, he adds, “I’ve been enjoying watching the two of you these last few weeks.”
My face flames hot, even as I realize the thought of this gorgeous man watching me with Asher turns me on.
An arm comes around my waist, and Asher pulls me to him almost possessively. “She’s not on the menu,” he almost snarls, which makes my brow crinkle in confusion. He’s acting as if he’s… jealous? Mad? No way.
Jerico throws his head back, his laugh a booming echo. Shaking his head, he gives me an apologetic smile before turning back to Asher. “Not meaning any offense, because your lady is incredibly desirable, but my wife is the only one I’m interested in touching these days.”
Gaze dropping to his hand, I see a shiny gold band on his left ring finger. I feel Asher relax, but then Jerico grins. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like watching, though.”
“We don’t mind you watching,” Asher replies smoothly, releasing his hold on me. He steps casually back up to the table, then picks up his drink.
“Just wanted to say hello,” Jerico says as he glances at his watch. “I have to get going, though.”
He inclines his head. “It was nice to meet you, Hannah.”
“Likewise,” I murmur, wondering what his wife thinks about him owning this place.
Jerico points at Asher as he starts to back away. “How about you bring Hannah over for dinner one night this week?”
My head snaps Asher’s way to see how he’ll handle this incredibly awkward situation. We’ve essentially just been invited on a double date, and Asher and I aren’t even dating.
“Can’t this week,” Asher replies without acknowledging my wide-eyed stare. “Heading to Florida tomorrow for business. Maybe next week.”
My jaw drops. I don’t even break my gaze from Asher when Jerico says, “I’ll get up with you early next week.”
I’m given an innocent smile when Asher turns to me. “What?”
My gaze drops, and I shrug. “Nothing. It’s just… we’re not…”
The words trail off as I realize I’m not exactly sure how to define what we are. We have sex. But it’s more than that… The level of intimacy we share with each other is beyond anything I’ve ever known was possible.
“Hannah,” Asher says softly to get my attention. “Would you rather me have declined and made it clear we’re just fucking?”
“Why doesn’t he just think that to begin with?” I ask curiously. “This is a sex club after all.”
Asher raises a brow, acting as if I’m the most naïve thing in the world. He sweeps his hand out to encompass everyone in the room. “Most of the people in here are in monogamous relationships, Hannah. But many of them enjoy swinging or engaging in group sex. This club and monogamy are not mutually exclusive. I haven’t been seeing anyone but you for the past three or so weeks now. It’s only logical Jerico would notice since I’ve never been with one woman for so long before.”
“Oh,” I say, fascinated by these revelations and more than a little warmed that he’s never been exclusive with someone before. I decide to satisfy my curiosity a bit. “Does Jerico bring his wife here?”
Asher smiles, taking another sip of his bourbon before he nods. “A few times a week. She used to work here.”
“That’s interesting.” I pick up my wine, study him over the edge as I bring it to my mouth. After I take a sip, I ask, “Do they swap partners?”
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Asher replies. “Jerico was telling the truth. He only has eyes for Trista. Occasionally, he’ll double up on her with their close friend Kynan. That was the guy I talked to that first night I brought you here.”
I practically choke on the wine I was just sipping. “Double up on her?”
“Fuck her at the same time,” Asher says blandly, then leans in to me. His voice drops an octave. “You know… two cocks in her at once. One in her pussy, one in her ass. Or maybe one in her ass and one in her mouth.”
I swallow hard, wondering what that would be like.
Asher must see it in my eyes. “Do you want that?”
I quickly shake my head.
“Hannah… if you want it, I’ll make it happen.”
“You said I wasn’t on the menu,” I remind him.
For a moment, Asher seems flustered at the reminder of the words he spoke not long ago. Tipping his glass, he takes another sip. After he swallows, he says, “I have to admit I have pretty strong proprietary feelings about you. But if you want to feel two men inside you, I’ll make it happen.”
It’s then I realize… I don’t want another man inside me. The idea of it is all kinds of
wicked and would make my panties wet if I were wearing any, but I don’t want any man other than Asher touching me.
“No,” I say firmly, tilting my chin up. “I’m quite satisfied with just you.”
I get a grin in return, taking note of the relief in his eyes. He nods toward my wine and asks, “You want another?”
“Um… sure,” I reply, enjoying the fact that Asher is willingly giving his time to me to have conversation.
After flagging a passing waitress and ordering another bourbon and wine, he turns to me.
“What did you do this weekend?” I ask pleasantly, feeling that’s a safe conversation to have.
He grimaces. “Met my dad’s fiancée.”
“You don’t like her?” I ask with a curious tilt of my head.
“I don’t like the fact that he’s known her less than two weeks, she’s thirty years younger than he is, and he might just be thinking with his dick.”
“Are he and your mom divorced?”
Asher’s gaze goes to his bourbon, a fond but sad smile on his face. “She died three years ago. Heart attack.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching across the table to lay my hand on top of his. He’s had a rough time losing both his wife and mother in the last few years. No wonder he’s so guarded.
Asher raises his head, giving me a quiet smile as he pulls his hand back. He deftly changes the subject as the waitress returns with fresh drinks. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into coming to Florida with me this week? As your employer, I could demand it.”
Laughing, I shake my head at his persistence. I’ve already declined his offer twice when he asked last week. “I can’t. You’re not getting back until late Saturday, and I’m not giving up my time with Hope.”
“Never hurts to ask.” He takes a sip from his new drink.
I change the subject now. “Did you ever bring your wife here?”
Asher freezes, his gaze going slightly flat. “Why would you ask that?”
“Never hurts to ask,” I say, throwing his same words back at him. Besides, I can’t help but be curious about this man. “You’re a sensual man, Asher. You don’t hold back. I just assumed the woman you chose to spend your life with would be the same.”
I think he might deny me, but his shoulders sag slightly as he shakes his head. “No. I didn’t start coming to The Wicked Horse until after she died.”
I’m not sure what that tells me about this enigmatic man, other than he must have changed.
I can’t help but ask, “How did she die?”
Of all the things I’d expected a young woman might die from, I wasn’t prepared for him to say, “She killed herself.”
“Oh, God,” I exclaim on a horrified exhale. My hand shoots back across the table to grab his. He reflexively jerks against me, but I hold tight. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.”
Asher doesn’t try to pull his hand back, but he does look everywhere but at me. Finally, he straightens, reaches for his drink with his free hand, and downs it.
I get a sharp tug and he’s leading me away from the table, my new glass of wine left untouched.
Not holding back, I let him lead me where he wants. The conversation about his wife is clearly over, and there’s a small tremor of fear that races up my spine as I feel waves of turmoil rolling off him.
He leads me straight to The Silo, through the heart of the room, and right to the glass room that’s furthest from the door.
I’ve seen this room before. Seen what’s inside.
The machine.
Asher nods toward it. “I want you on that tonight.”
“I don’t know.” It comes out faint as I instinctually back slightly away.
He gives me a jerk, pulls me closer, and positions me in front of him so I stare into the room. It’s already occupied as it’s a popular destination.
There’s a man and a woman in there, and the woman is on the machine. I clench my thighs together as I watch them, the woman’s legs splayed wide as a mechanical dildo drills into her. The man with her just watches with lust-filled eyes, idly stroking his hard cock.
Asher steps in close to me, his own thick erection hard against my ass. Wrapping his arms around me, he dips his head to state, “I’m going to let that machine fuck you, and I’m going to make you suck my cock while it does. Do you like the sound of that?”
God help me and my traitorous body, but I’m nodding almost frantically as I press back into him, rotating my hips.
Laughing darkly, he holds me tightly as we watch what’s going on inside. Before long, his hand has inched under my short dress, meeting no resistance since I’m bare beneath. I lean against him and close my eyes, knowing I’m in for a very wild ride tonight. Really, though, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing.
CHAPTER 17
Asher
For ages, men have gone to great lengths to get laid. They’ve acted outrageously when the sex is good, buying their women extravagant gifts and whispering poetic words of love.
Me?
I apparently cut short my Friday meeting on the East Coast to fly back to Vegas to see Hannah. I’m making my way to her house straight from the airport, wondering if it’s “too late” to stop by unannounced.
I don’t really care, though. It’s been a month since we’ve started this arrangement. Rather than getting bored, I’m wanting her even more. It doesn’t help that I’ve been without her for three nights. Jacking off just hasn’t cut it for me.
When I pull up to the curb in front of her house, I’m relieved to see her living room light on. It’s getting close to midnight. I’d realized there was a good chance she’d be asleep by now. I have no clue whether I’d still go up to her house if it was dark, knowing damn well it would be rude, but that’s not something I have to worry about. She’s clearly up.
I get out of my car, lock it, and don’t think about it again. I’ve given up being worried about my car in this neighborhood, figuring the benefits of being with Hannah far outweigh the cons of having my car vandalized.
I bound up the porch steps, pull her screen door open, and knock lightly. From inside, the sound of the TV can faintly be heard. After only a few moments, the door opens.
And Christ… she looks… just awful.
Hannah is wrapped up in a big fleece robe. Her hair is a stringy mess, there are dark circles under her eyes, and her nose is beet red. She’s holding a wad of tissues in one hand, the other clutching her robe as if she’s trying to leech warmth from it.
“Hey,” she says, her voice sounding like a frog’s croak.
“Jesus, Hannah,” I say as I push inside. When she backpedals, I close the door, engaging the lock. “What’s wrong with you?”
She waves the hand with the tissues as if nothing’s wrong with her, then she croaks, “Oh… just a cold or something. I thought I’d be over it by now.”
“You’ve been sick all week?” I ask as she shuffles back to the couch. There’s a pillow, two blankets she must have been laying under, and entire coffee table overflowing with cold medicines.
“What’s today? Friday?”
What the fuck? She doesn’t know what day it is? “It’s Friday night. Have you been working at my house all week while I’ve been gone?”
Hannah crawls back under the blankets on her couch, lying on her side to face me. She dabs at her nose with her tissues. “Of course I’ve been working. It’s my job.”
Rolling my eyes, I squat beside the couch. I touch the back of my hand to her forehead, finding it warm and clammy. “Have you been running a fever?”
“On and off,” she replies as she nods to the coffee table. “Been taking Tylenol. It’s been working mostly.”
“I should probably take you to the doctor,” I say. She looks like fucking death warmed over.
Hannah shakes her head. “I’m fine. It’s just a cold. I’m sure I’ll feel better by tomorrow.”
“And you got your medical degree where?” I ask s
arcastically.
She smirks, but I see the tiny shudder pass through her, which means she has a chill. “Unfortunately, I’ve been around the block a few times. My immune system isn’t the greatest, so I tend to get a few bad colds a year. I probably picked it up from Hope. Kids spread all kinds of nasty germs from school.”
She’s probably right. I’m sure she knows her own body better than I do.
In some respects, at least. I guarantee I know the area between her legs way better than she ever could.
I should go. She needs rest, and I’m not exactly the maternal caring type. Whenever Michelle was sick, she’d always shoo me away. I’d always been grateful to take the escape.
Still, I find myself asking, “When’s the last time you ate? And are you dehydrated?”
Hannah shrugs. “I’ve been drinking some tea.”
“Jesus,” I mutter as I stand up. “Think you have anything here I can make that you could stomach? Or I can go out for something.”
“I’m sure I have some soup in my pantry,” she answers through what sounds like a rock quarry in the base of her throat.
“I’ll be back.” I pivot toward her tiny kitchen that’s separated from her equally tiny living room by a counter.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and I look over my shoulder at her. She tries to grin, but it comes off as a pathetic grimace. “You’re not getting sex tonight.”
“As if I’d fuck you looking like that,” I retort with an evil smile. She laughs, or at least tries to, but it just sounds as if it hurts.
She’s silent as I make my way through her kitchen. I find a can of alphabet soup in the pantry. Not bothering with a saucepan, I instead heat it up in her microwave after finding her bowls. I nab a spoon, some paper towels, and a bottle of water from her fridge, bringing them back into the living room. Eyeballing the coffee table, I find a spot to deposit the soup and glance over at Hannah.
Her eyes are closed, mouth parted slightly. I don’t hesitate to lean over her, putting my hand to her shoulder for a gentle shake. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. You need to eat, then you can go back to sleep.”
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