Wicked Choice (The Wicked Horse Vegas #4)

by Sawyer Bennett

  When the betting gets to Kara, who is seated on the other side of Bodie, I’m startled when Bodie pushes a finger slowly into me. Had he gone fast and deep, I would have cried out and probably orgasmed, but as it is, he has me vibrating with the need for something more and I can barely breathe.

  Kara places her bet, and all eyes turn to Bodie.

  Perhaps to the casual observer, he just looks like a guy with his hand on perhaps his girl’s ass. Only I know that it’s deep between my legs with a single digit flexing gently inside me.

  Bodie pretends to study his cards in contemplation for a moment, and I say pretend because he has nothing worth anything. He needs to fold.

  But he doesn’t right away because he’s putting on a show for me. Slowly, he pulls the finger out and pushes it back in. I’m in danger of passing out because my lungs aren’t working. He pulls it out again, and then with flourish, he tosses his cards face down and says, “I’m out.”

  He pushes two fingers back inside, all the way to the third knuckle, and it’s not gentle at all. I gasp, and finally my lungs are working. I suck air back in, not able to help the way my hips tilt to try to draw him in deeper.

  Bodie likes my visible reaction. To my consternation, as well as my delight, he starts to finger fuck me right there at the table. I’m vaguely aware of the betting moving to the person on Bodie’s left, but mostly I’m aware I’ve got no control over my body.

  With Bodie’s fingers pumping in and out of me, I can’t stop the circling of my hips or the tiny moans slithering up my throat and out of my mouth. Bodie’s free hand drops down to his lap, and he palms his erection through his jeans. I lift my face, lock my gaze on Merrit sitting across from me, and I flush with embarrassment when I realize he’s fully engaged in watching this spectacle.

  My eyes go around the table, and I see that everyone’s watching.

  “Oh, God,” I mutter. Yet, I don’t want it to stop. My hand clutches Bodie’s shoulder, gripping a hunk of his t-shirt tightly to hang on.

  “I can’t fucking concentrate,” Cage says with a dark laugh, and my gaze snaps to his. He’s staring right between my legs, which are now spread—when did that happen?—and I realize he can clearly see what Bodie’s doing to me.

  I’m torn between the need to come while all of these people watch Bodie destroy my resistance, and the need to run out of here in embarrassment because I’m letting him do it to me.

  The decision is taken out of my hands when Bodie abruptly removes his hand and rises from his chair. He takes me by the hand and pulls me roughly around the table, walking swiftly toward the exit door.

  “Get it, Bodie,” someone calls out from the table behind us. Sal maybe?

  I have no clue where he’s taking me, but wherever it is, I hope it’s not far. We leave The Apartment, walk to the end of the hall, and then hang a left followed by an immediate right down the hall to The Silo.

  My favorite room.

  We don’t even make it to the interior once we enter, instead cutting down the back perimeter hall that leads to the entrances to the glassed-in room.

  He pushes open the first door we come to, and I’m surprised to see a couple rolling on a silk-covered mattress. They’re partially dressed, so they must have just gotten started. There are a few people sitting on a couch in front of the glass wall looking in, idly sipping wine and talking while the action unfolds.

  The couple raise their heads… a man and a woman who look to be in their mid-thirties. They smile at us in invitation, but Bodie shuts that shit down quickly.

  “I’ll give you a thousand bucks each if you vacate this room immediately,” he growls.

  Neither hesitate, rolling right off the mattress and gathering their discarded shirts.

  Bodie reaches into his back pocket, and pulls his wallet out. He pulls a credit card out and hands it to the guy. “Go have some drinks at the bar on me. I’ll find you in a bit and make arrangements to get you paid.”

  “You got it,” the guy says with a grin as he grabs the card in one hand and his woman in the other.

  In moments, we’re left alone in the room.

  I watch as Bodie walks confidently over to the glass wall. With a tug on a silk rope with a tassel, he closes the heavy gray curtains so no one can see in.

  “Want privacy now, huh?” I ask as he turns to look at me.

  “Gave enough of a show already,” he says as he walks back to me.

  Stalks me rather.

  I feel hunted, and it turns me on.

  I’m not sure how it happens, but Bodie and I land on the mattress. His mouth is on me, his hands pulling at my clothes. Rolling around, we kiss, grope, and get naked. His hand goes back between my legs, and he hums low in his throat when he finds me just as wet for him.

  He flips me on my back, spreading my legs by pushing his in between. Fisting his hard cock in one hand, he presses it to my pussy and starts to fill me up. I raise my legs, spreading myself further, and my hands go to his chest for leverage. I tilt my hips to suck him in, and in a fluidly beautiful move, he’s got his pelvis pressed to mine.

  Bodie then does something so sweetly intimate. He lays his body fully on mine, pressing his weight down onto me. His hands come to mine, fingers intertwining, and he raises my arms above my head.

  I get a soft kiss from him, then he nuzzles my neck as he starts to move slowly inside of me. My hands grip his tight as I lock my ankles at his lower back. His back hunches slightly so he can get a better angle, and then he’s driving into me with slow strokes that go impossibly deep. After he plunges to the hilt, he grinds against me and my clit becomes absolutely engorged.

  It takes no time at all before I’m hovering on the brink in pure ecstasy. Bodie’s movements never get faster, but instead become more deliberate. A slow fucking meant to consume us both. His breath is hot against my neck as he whispers, “Want you to come for me, Rachel.”

  My name crosses his lips as he punches his hips deep, and I splinter apart with a hoarse cry of abandonment. Bodie groans in appreciation, goes still inside of me, and then lifts his head up to stare at me while he orgasms.

  The veins stick out in his temples, and the muscles in his throat go tight as he shudders in my arms. He keeps his eyes locked onto me the entire time he releases in me, and I don’t know that I’ve ever felt closer to a human being in my life.

  When he’s empty, Bodie drops his forehead to mine. “Fuck, that was good.”

  “The best,” I murmur in reply as my fingers play gently with the hair at the nape of his neck.

  “Was that awkward in The Apartment?” he asks, lifting so I can look into his eyes again.

  “You mean you finger fucking me in front of our coworkers?” I ask with a grin. “Yeah… a little. I mean, no one in Jameson has ever fucked around before and in such a public manner.”

  “Yet, we’ve all watched each other fuck here in the club,” he points out.

  “I know. And there was a small part of me that was totally turned on by it.”

  “Me too.” He chuckles and then presses another kiss onto my mouth. “Interested in going another round in here?”

  “In this room?” I ask for clarification.

  “No,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “The room with the stocks. I’d like to lock you up in it, and let you suck my dick a little. You give the best head, Hart.”

  I laugh and lift my head to give him a quick kiss in return. “Deal.”

  “Actually, I really want to fuck you while you’re locked in the stocks,” he says with an almost menacing smile that causes my belly to flutter in anticipation. “Best way to spank your ass hard, which I know you happen to like.”

  I groan at the same time I push him off me. He’s right. I like that a lot, and I’d like to go do that like right now.

  Bodie laughs at my impatience as we roll off the mattress and gather our clothes. We don’t bother putting them on as we’re just going down two rooms.

  It’s turning out t
o be a perfect night here at The Wicked Horse.

  CHAPTER 15

  Bodie

  I turn my truck off as soon as I pull into Rachel’s driveway, and just stare at her house for a moment while the engine continues to tick. She invited me over to dinner tonight, and I don’t know what to make of it.

  It’s perplexing because for the last three nights, we’ve only been together at The Wicked Horse. Neither of us have any jobs planned this week, and I never saw her in the gym when I was there working out. But like clockwork, I’d get a text from her late afternoon that invited me to meet her at The Wicked Horse.

  One thought is that now that we’ve come out in the open, she likes the thrill of us having sex in front of others. It’s sort of taboo or forbidden, and not going to lie, I get a rush from the guys at Jameson watching me with her. But I also like my alone time with her as well.

  The other thought is that Rachel is using the club as a barrier between us. It’s impersonal and casual, or at least on the face of things. But what I do to her and with her is anything but, and she damn well knows it.

  Why she is now inviting me into her home for dinner is troubling. I’m more apt to believe she’s going to lay something dreadful on me, like she’s changed her mind about carrying the baby.

  With a sigh because I’ll never know until I just walk in there, I hop out of the truck and head up to her house. When I knock on the door, she calls from the inside, “It’s open.”

  I walk into Rachel’s living room, barely noticing the ergonomic lines of her contemporary furniture or that her decor lends a spartan feel. Minimalist artwork and no personal photos anywhere. Not that I have any except a few of my family in my bedroom, but I’m a dude. I’m not supposed to be into that shit.

  Upon first inhale once I cross the threshold, my mouth waters. Garlic and cheese and pungent tomatoes.

  Her kitchen is open to the living area, and Rachel is standing behind a long, rectangular island that separates the two rooms, cutting up a loaf of Italian bread. She smiles at me.

  It’s open and genuine, and I’m immediately put at ease.

  “Smells delicious,” I say as I take a seat on one of the bar stools on the living room side.

  “Lasagna,” she says as she saws through the crusty bread with a serrated knife. “Not a drop of Italian blood in me but for some reason, I make a really good lasagna. Plus, I’m craving all kinds of gooey cheese.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” I ask, hoping there’s not so I can just sit here and watch her be domestic. Domesticity is not something I think about when I think of Rachel Hart, so I’m going to enjoy it.

  “No,” she says, but then nods her head over her shoulder. “But there’s a bottle of red wine on the back counter if you want some.”

  “I’m good.” In all actuality, I love wine, but I’ve just not been drinking lately. Not sure if I’m just abstaining because Rachel can’t drink, or if I just don’t want my senses dulled when I’m around her.

  Rachel nods with a small smile and finishes the bread. She lays the slices on a pan, and then dabs them with a melted butter that has garlic pieces floating in it.

  “So… this is nice.” She looks up at me in question, and I nod toward the bread. “You cooking dinner and inviting me.”

  She gives a casual shrug. “Well, like I said… I had a craving. Why not share a meal with you?”

  Hmm. That’s not exactly what I’d hoped to hear.

  “It’s occurred to me,” she says casually as she pulls out the lasagna from the oven and pops in the bread. “That I don’t know much about you before you came to Jameson.”

  I blink in surprise, taking my hungry gaze off the bubbling, cheesy casserole. Rachel is actually making conversation with me that doesn’t revolve around work, sex, or the baby.

  “Let’s see,” I say as I lean forward and prop my forearms on the counter. She mimics me and does the same from the opposite side. I try not to get distracted by her cleavage. “I knew I didn’t want to work on my family’s farm in Nebraska, and the military seemed like a good option. I joined the Navy right out of high school and eventually became a SEAL.”

  Rachel laughs and shakes her head. “You’re so casual about it. But nothing about being a SEAL is casual.”

  I chuckle in response, because she’s right about that. “Then let’s just say that I might have a taste for adventure like you do.”

  “Why didn’t you stay in the military?” she asks.

  “It just wasn’t for me. The rules and structure. Don’t get me wrong… my time served was an amazing experience, but I didn’t want it to be a long-term career.”

  “How did you get hired at Jameson?”

  “Just some mutual contacts with Jerico, and they put me in touch with him.” I lean forward with a secretive smile. “Here’s a little-known fact about me. The CIA actually reached out to me, but I didn’t want to be a spook. No glory in that.”

  Rachel laughs again, and I love the sound of it. She’s always so serious, and it’s nice to see her loose and relaxed. “No. Definitely no glory in that type of work.”

  “Jameson was definitely the right move for me. The adventure is even better, there’s plenty of downtime to do my own thing, and the pay can’t be beaten to be honest.”

  “I hear that,” she says in agreement, but then her expression sobers slightly. “But seriously… you have no qualms about giving up this career to move back to Nebraska with the baby?”

  “Of course, I have qualms,” I say softly. “I love this job. But you can’t stack up a job against family. There isn’t one of my family members I wouldn’t give this career up for, even down to my little second cousins who I barely see. So, you damn well better believe it will be no sacrifice to give it up for my kid.”

  Rachel’s face crumbles slightly, and she looks down at the counter. “I must seem incredibly selfish to you then.”

  “God, Rachel,” I exclaim, completely startled by that. Her head pops up to look at me. “I don’t think you’re selfish at all. You’re going for what you want in life, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The selfish thing would have been to get an abortion. What you’re doing is the most selfless thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

  The timer she’d set for the bread goes off, and she looks relieved to have something else to do other than discuss this further. I watch her quietly as she pulls the bread out and sets it on top of the stove burners.

  She then pulls a large knife from a drawer and proceeds to cut through the lasagna. Her back stays turned to me, her spine held stiff and straight. I want to go to her, step right into her lush backside and put my arms around her stomach. I want to press into her and assure her I don’t think badly about her at all. Would my preference be she raise the child with me?

  Of course. But I can’t fault her for wanting a different life than me.

  “Want to pull a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge for us?” she says over her shoulder as she plates up the lasagna and throws a piece of bread on each plate.

  “Sure.” I stand from the stool, then pull the last two bottles of water in there out, depositing them on top of the counter. “Those were your last two. Where are the others? I’ll restock really quick.”

  Rachel nods to her left. “In the pantry there.”

  I open the pantry door, my eyes immediately dropping to a case of bottled water on the floor. I squat down, reach inside the plastic that had already been torn open, and start pulling out bottles. As I do, I glance at the lowest shelf and see an open box from Amazon sitting there. I lean forward, surprised at what I see.

  DVD movies—The Lion King, Frozen, and The Little Mermaid. Under that are some books, and without hesitation, I lift the DVDs to see them more clearly.

  Peter Rabbit.

  Where the Wild Things Are.

  The Giving Tree.

  I glance back and forth between the box and the water bottles I continue grabbing. I suppose the argument could be made that perhap
s Rachel has a niece or nephew those are for, but my gut tells me differently.

  She’s buying stuff for the baby.

  Never for a moment do I consider that she wants to stay involved. Instead, a wave of sadness hits me that it’s only about leaving a little piece of herself with the child. Nothing Rachel has done or said would lead me to believe otherwise.

  ♦

  Rachel collapses on top of me, her body slick with sweat. She just rode my cock like she was riding a rodeo bull. Completely in command of the situation, pleasuring me and torturing me at the same time. She squeezed her breasts while she did so, pinching her nipples. I totally lost my shit when she started rubbing her clit while she bounced up and down on me, intent on getting herself off while doing the same for me.

  I saw stars when I exploded, bucked my hips up so hard she almost fell off, and then she landed on top of me while laughing in that sexy, husky tone that said she knew she just rocked my world.

  “I feel at this point I should ask what you want,” I say, stroking her lower back with my hand.

  Her head pops up and her eyes look at me in confusion. “What I want?”

  “Yeah,” I say with a sly grin. “You cook me a fabulous meal and then fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before. This is when the dude says, ‘What do you want?’.”

  Rachel laughs and shakes her head. She rolls off and flips to her back beside me. “I don’t want anything. I got just as much out of this as you did. Fantastic lasagna and a nuclear orgasm.”

  “It was a damn fucking good orgasm,” I say in agreement. “Oh, and the lasagna was awesome, too.”

  I roll to my side, facing her. Lifting to an elbow, I rest my head in the palm of my hand. My eyes slowly travel down her body, trailing a finger right along with my gaze. Down the center of her chest, over her stomach, and right down to the closely cropped curls guarding her sex. The curls are darker, glistening with her juices and my cum. I push a finger right down in between, grazing over her clit, which causes her to groan before I push my digit inside of her. I feel her muscles contract all around me before I pull my now-soaked finger out.