Wicked Choice (The Wicked Horse Vegas #4)

by Sawyer Bennett

  I pick up my beer and start chugging. I’d like Rachel to clear up those matters for me. Otherwise, I’ll drive myself batty wondering about it. Right now, she’s fucking me exclusively, but I need to know if she’s got feelings for Kynan. I respect the dude, and I respect Rachel. I don’t want to stand in the way of something.

  I also don’t want to have these nasty-ass feelings I’ve got going on right now, which are ranging from jealousy to anger.

  “It’s got to be Kynan, right?” Cage chatters on. I continue swallowing large mouthfuls of beer. “I mean… they’ve got a history, and Hart’s not the type to have unprotected sex. If it happened, it was planned is the way I’m thinking. Kynan’s got to be the dad for sure—”

  “It’s mine,” I croak after swallowing the last of my beer, sucking air through my teeth. I slam my glass on the bar, and turn to lock my eyes to Cage’s.

  His eyes go round, his mouth dropping wide open. “Yours?”

  “Mine,” I say proprietarily, and I wonder if that’s for the baby, Rachel, or both. I wait for a flash of guilt to hit me that I’ve divulged our secret. Rachel most certainly didn’t want anyone to know she’s pregnant just yet. She didn’t want to be treated differently by the guys, but that cat is out of the bag thanks to her hormonal rant earlier today.

  She also doesn’t want anyone to know we’re involved, and I get that, too. It’s an unspoken rule, and it will make things awkward. Since I’ve been with Jameson, there’s never been a romantic or sexual relationship between members. Or at least not out in the open anyway.

  But Cage is my best friend, and I wanted him to stop talking about Kynan and her being together. It was getting on my nerves.

  “What the fuck?” Cage growls in a low voice. “You and Hart? Together?”

  “Well, we’re not together-together,” I hedge as I push my empty glass to the edge. The bartender starts my way, but I shake my head, indicating I don’t want another. “But things got carried away between us in Paphos, and she got pregnant.”

  “What… break a condom?”

  “Didn’t use a condom,” I mutter.

  “You fucking idiot,” Cage says. I couldn’t agree with him more, but what’s done is done. Now we have to accept the consequences. “But what do you mean you’re not together-together? That means you’re together in some way?”

  “We’re fucking.” My words are pointed and clear. They shouldn’t invite other questions, but I still add, “Exclusively.”

  “Lucky son of a bitch.” Cage shakes his head disbelievingly. “She’s pretty much every man’s fantasy.”

  “Yeah, well stop thinking about her that way.” I cringe over the possessive snarl in my tone, but it’s better than peeing in a circle around Rachel. That would just be embarrassing.

  As if it just hits Cage with the implications of everything he’s learned, he leans toward me and asks in a low, hesitant voice. “Are y’all going to get married or something?”

  That makes me smile, because it just never crosses Cage’s mind to ask if we’re keeping the baby. He’s my closest friend in the world, the bond forged tight by the many hair-raising adventures we’ve shared in the Navy and with the Jameson Group. He knows I would never consider not having this kid.

  I also know I need to tell him the truth because I can’t lie to him. But I also trust him to keep this confidential.

  Leaning against the back of the barstool, I scrub my hands over my face. When I look back at him, my words start on an exhale. “Rachel doesn’t want the baby, but I do. She’s agreed to carry it, and I’m going to raise it.”

  Cage just stares at me, blinking a few times as he reconciles the fucked-up dichotomy of my relationship with Rachel. The total reversal of stereotyped roles where the mother doesn’t want the baby, but the father does.

  “How?” Cage demands angrily. “How are you going to raise a kid on your own?”

  “You know how,” I say softly, acknowledging the heaviness in my heart that I’ll be giving up a career I love in exchange. “The baby has to be my first priority. Over everything.”

  “You’ll go home to Nebraska,” Cage says in realization, his voice as heavy sounding as my heart is feeling. “Estelle and Geo will go crazy over another grandkid.”

  That’s the truth. Cage knows my parents well since he’s been a guest at the Wright household many times over the years. He has no family of his own, so my mom and dad have unofficially adopted him.

  “You know I can’t have this career and handle a kid on my own. There’s just no way.”

  “And no chance Hart will change her mind?” he asks. “The two of you could do it together.”

  “I have no clue,” I tell my best friend, and then look over to the bartender. I lift my hand and point to the empty, indicating I’ve changed my mind about the beer. There’s still two more periods to the hockey game, and while I really don’t care to finish watching it, Cage will. I might as well get a good buzz going as that might make things at least feel a little better.

  The bartender nabs my empty, dumps it in the sink, and pours me a fresh beer.

  “You care for her,” Cage says out of the blue when I pick the beer up for a sip. His tone is a mix of accusation and wonder. “I watched you run out of the gym after her this morning. You were hugging her in the locker room—according to the reports I heard. More importantly, Hart was letting you comfort her, and we all know that’s very anti-Hart. You two care for each other.”

  My head is shaking in denial before he can even finish. “It’s not like that.”

  “Bullshit,” he declares.

  “Okay, yes… I care about her,” I admit. “I mean, man… she’s giving up part of her life for me. I’m asking her to put her body through hell to give birth to a baby. For me. I’m asking her to do something monumental for me, so yes… I care about her. How could I not?”

  “She cares about you, too,” Cage proclaims with a sharp nod of his head.

  “As a teammate,” I finish his thought. “She’s doing this because of team loyalty and respect. Nothing more.”

  Cage nods, not necessarily in agreement, but more so that the depth or origin of her care is probably irrelevant. She’s committed to carrying the baby, and that speaks volumes either way.

  “Listen, buddy…” Cage picks his beer up and holds it up to me in a toast. “I know this isn’t how you envisioned becoming a father would happen. I know you thought your family would be built in a more traditional way. But congrats. You’re going to make a fucking awesome dad, and I’m thoroughly depressed you’re going to be leaving me.”

  I laugh and pick up my beer. After I tap it against his, we drink deeply. I fucking don’t want to leave, but I see no other option at this point.

  Cage sets his beer down, his eyes drifting to the TV mounted on the wall behind the bar. His attention isn’t fully focused on it, because he still has questions about Rachel. “I assume all this is on the down low?”

  “Yeah,” I say, my eyes on the hockey game, too, my fingers playing mindlessly in the condensation on the pint glass. “Obviously the pregnancy is out in the open, but no one knows it’s mine.”

  “Lips are sealed,” he says, but he doesn’t need to do that. I know they are.

  “Appreciate it.”

  “And if you need to talk, I’m here.”

  “I know,” I say softly. I can envision plenty of beers with Cage before all this is said and done, because as we advance through the months, it’s only going to get tougher.

  At some point, it will come out that I’m the daddy. At some point, I’ll need to tell my parents. And at some point, I’ll need to make plans to leave Jameson.

  At some point.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight, I’m drinking beer with my buddy, and I’m thinking I ought to just get shit faced. It’s been a while since I’ve done it. What better reason to do so than the fact my life is getting ready to be turned upside down?

  My phone gives off a short vi
bration, indicating an incoming text. I pull it out and see it’s from Rachel.

  Meet me at The Wicked Horse at 11pm.

  I stare at the message for what seems like forever. So long that Cage leans over to see what I’m looking at, but I turn the screen away from him.

  Our one encounter in The Wicked Horse was impulsive and dangerous. If we want to keep our sexual relationship a secret, there can’t be any fucking around there.

  Still, I type my response back without worrying about repercussions. Ok. CU then.

  That’s still several hours away, and I’ve got some beers still to drink. But I won’t drink too many. I want to keep my wits about me when dealing with Rachel.

  CHAPTER 10

  Rachel

  I sit back casually on the small velvet couch in The Apartment. I don’t see any other Jameson employees in here other than Kynan, who is playing poker right now. Not everyone at Jameson has a membership to The Wicked Horse. Not even most of them, actually. Just those who are into kinky fucking in a public manner.

  The Apartment is fairly dead tonight. Maybe because it’s a Sunday night and the workweek is starting in a few hours. There’s a rambunctious game of poker going on, and I listen in because Kynan is in a taunting mood and that amuses me.

  “Interested in a side bet?” he asks the only woman playing with the group of men. She reminds me of a slightly older version of Taylor Swift. Sweet face set off by a blunt cut of blonde bangs across her forehead.

  “Like what?” she asks with her head tilted to the side.

  “I win, you come over here and give me a blow job. You win, I’ll make you come with my mouth.”

  I snicker but truly, I expected no different than Kynan betting body parts.

  The woman doesn’t even get a chance to respond because a smokin’ hot guy sitting next to her says, “Not going to happen.”

  “I can answer for myself,” the woman retorts, but she turns to smile at the guy who is now staring daggers at Kynan.

  He finally turns his gaze to the blonde woman, but he sweeps his hand toward Kynan. “Go ahead. But he already got the message.”

  “I like it when you go all Neanderthal on me,” the woman purrs, and I think… that’s actually kind of sweet.

  The hot guy finds it hilarious, because he gives a hearty laugh. “In that case, I’ll make sure to pull your hair hard when I fuck you later.”

  Okay, that’s just hot. I can imagine Bodie doing that to me, and it makes me squirm in my seat. I glance at my watch. He should be arriving soon. I’m not sure what I want to do with him or where, but I do know I want to do something.

  Laughter at the poker table has me tuning back in, and I see the woman raking in the poker chips. She must have won whatever bet was made when I tuned them out.

  Everyone stands from the table, one guy heading off toward the restroom and another arching his back. They’re clearly going to take a bit of a break.

  Kynan stands there, talking to one of the other players while he sips on a whiskey. His gaze cuts over to the Taylor Swift lookalike and the hot guy.

  I do the same, continuing to stare as she crawls onto his lap. Within moments, they’re fucking right there at the table. Kynan keeps his gaze pinned on the couple while he talks, but he’s visibly aroused. His erection is pressed thick and long against his dress pants.

  There was a day that would have made my mouth water, but I don’t think like that about him anymore. All I seem to think about is Bodie’s cock and the way it makes me feel.

  The woman rides her man’s dick, and the sight is turning me on. I wish Bodie would get here.

  Kynan comes to sit down next to me on the couch and I’m momentarily startled because I’d been staring so intently at the couple fucking right there at the poker table. Kynan adjusts his dick slightly before crossing one leg over the other.

  “What are you doing here tonight, Rachel?” he asks as he slings an arm over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against my shoulder.

  “Going to get laid if Bodie will ever get here,” I say nonchalantly, checking my watch again.

  “Damn,” Kynan says in a low, appreciative voice.

  My head snaps to the side, and I look at him questioningly. “What?”

  “You’re going public, huh?”

  I give a little sniff followed by a shrug. “Why hide it?”

  “Why indeed?” he agrees. I bristle over the slight taunt in his voice, not liking that he finds me amusing. But then his voice drops even lower, and he’s no longer amused but worried instead. “I heard you had a bit of a hard time at the gym today.”

  “Ugh,” I say with a huff and lean back into the couch cushion. “Stupid fucking hormones. I was a total girl today. Boohooing like a baby.”

  “Everyone knows you’re pregnant now,” he says, but I already knew that.

  “Well, it was going to come out eventually,” I say glumly. “Might as well hit it head on.”

  “You’re going to have some people questioning your ability,” he points out.

  “I’m pregnant,” I snap. “Not disabled.”

  “I know that. Others will know that. Some won’t. You’re going to need to set the record straight, Rachel.”

  “Fine,” I say with a sigh, and then look at my watch again.

  “Your prince arrives,” Kynan says softly.

  My head pops up, immediately locking eyes with Bodie as he walks my way. He’s all in black tonight. Black jeans, black biker boots, and a heavy black leather jacket over a black Harley Davidson t-shirt that I can see peeking through at his very well-formed chest. I press my legs together in anticipation.

  My gaze travels back up his body, and I’m surprised to find him staring daggers at Kynan. I stand up from the couch and take a few steps toward Bodie. When he reaches me, he looks down at me with an uneasy expression on his face and a clenched jaw.

  “Are you and Kynan fucking each other?” he asks me ever so softly and so no one else can hear his ludicrous question except for me.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  He rubs his neck in what appears to be frustration. “Because it would seem that’s the prevalent thought among all the people who are gossiping about your pregnancy.”

  I want to be angry he’s asking me something so personal, but damn it all to hell, I find it endearing. “I’m not fucking Kynan.”

  “Have you ever?” he asks so suddenly that I know he’s been told I have. More gossip, I assume, but this time it’s accurate.

  “Many years ago,” I tell him truthfully. “Before I came to work for Jameson.”

  His eyes leave mine, traveling over my shoulder. I look behind me, but Kynan is gone from the couch. I twist my head a little further and see him back at the poker table, ignoring us.

  When I turn back to Bodie, I see him staring at Kynan with a furrowed brow. I bring my hand to his face, and he flinches minutely before looking at me.

  “You’re the only one I’m fucking now.” I take satisfaction in the slight flare of lust in his eyes. “In fact, I’d very much like for us to fuck tonight.”

  “Is anyone else here from Jameson?” he asks, his words thick and heavy with need as he looks around The Apartment.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say, and his gaze crashes back into mine with disbelief. “I don’t care if anyone knows. Cat’s out of the bag about the pregnancy, so why hide that we’re fucking each other?”

  He winces slightly at the reminder that what we’re doing is nothing but sex, and I wonder if that means he views it as something more. I refuse to let myself feel that way because that would only complicate things once the baby is born.

  Bodie grabs my hand and starts to tug me toward the door. “Let’s go to one of the other rooms.”

  “No,” I say as I pull back, causing him to turn to face me.

  I lace my fingers with his and walk back to the couch I’d been sitting on. I risk a glance over at Kynan and I see him watching us now with interest from over the
cards he has in his hand.

  Bodie doesn’t fight me when I push him onto the gray velvet cushion. He spreads his legs slightly, and I step between them. Lifting his chin, he watches me with a thoughtfulness that tells me he’s intrigued.

  I drop to my knees and bring my hands to his thighs. His muscles contract under my touch before relaxing again. The connection between us seems to crackle. My hands tremble slightly as I slide my palms up, moving them inward to graze over his erection.

  “I don’t care if anyone watches us,” I tell him softly as my fingers work at the button to his jeans. I hope he understands the understatement within my words.

  I don’t care if Kynan watches us because Kynan is nothing to me other than a friend.

  Bodie’s teeth dig down into his bottom lip while I slide the zipper down slowly. He lifts his hips slightly as I peel the fly open, digging in to pull his cock out.

  It’s thick and solid. I drag my thumb up the vein on the underside before wrapping my hand around its warmth, squeezing tightly. Bodie groans and lifts his hips again.

  “This is mine,” I whisper as I stare up at him. “And I’m hungry.”

  “Fuck, Rachel,” he practically wheezes with need.

  I’d never make him wait, so I lean over and take him in my mouth. His skin feels hotter on my tongue, my jaws stretching to accommodate his size. Images of him fucking my mouth spring to mind. I know if he ever let loose on me, I’d easily choke on his cock. That thought soaks my panties.

  But that is for another night of play. We have so much to learn about and try with each other, and The Wicked Horse will be our sinful playground for months to come.

  Or, at least, until I really start showing and then I’m not about to flash my pregnant belly to anyone but Bodie. Dr. Anchors assured me that sex—even vigorous sex—was perfectly fine, and I’ve watched Bodie at times here in the club.

  The man has a deviously filthy mind, and I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of what he can do to me.

  I grip his shaft at the base, giving short, tight strokes as I suck and lick on him. The sounds he makes are tortured, and his pre-cum tastes deliciously salty. He’s going to taste even better going down my throat.