“For me?” I clarify.
“Because of what you did for me tonight.”
“It’s not necessary—” I start to say, but then she’s stroking my cock and the words just die in my throat. There’s no way I can turn down this offer.
*
Sloane is dead to the world, her head on my chest and an arm thrown across my waist. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep after our shower. Hell, after that amazingly fantastic blow job just before the shower, I should be ready to fall asleep too but my mind is racing.
Racing with all things Sloane Meyers.
Like why in the hell I brought her to my house? Or why I’m content to lay in this bed with her? Or for fuck’s sake, why did I tell her we’d get up early so I could take her to breakfast?
Breakfast!
I don’t take women to breakfast. I sneak out of their beds and hope they don’t wake up.
And since I’m thinking about all the ways in which my head is fucked over this woman, I can’t believe I bucked up against Bridger tonight. He was directing our scenario, and he told Logan to give it to her deep. That meant Logan should give it to her deep until she couldn’t take it anymore, and that meant I should sit there and stroke my dick and watch. But I directly contravened his order by telling Logan to ease up. Watching her gag and tears come to her eyes, I was ready to fucking throw a punch if he didn’t do as I said.
I mean… what in the ever-loving hell is wrong with me?
Deciding that perhaps holding her soft body against mine and smelling my shampoo in her hair isn’t helping matters, I gently slide out from under her. I can’t help myself when I pull the covers up over her shoulders, but I absolutely restrain myself from brushing her hair from her face. I’m not that much of a pussy over this girl.
Yet.
I walk naked out into the living room, cross into the small kitchen, and grab a beer from my fridge. After twisting the cap and disposing of it, I take a hefty pull.
Then another.
Maybe I should get drunk, then I’ll stop obsessing about her and how fucking hard I came in her tonight. It’s like watching Rand, Logan, and Bridger fucking her caused some sort of caveman to come out in me. I had to fuck her harder and better. Had to make her come longer. Had to bury to the hilt and unload the biggest nut ever inside of her.
And there was a moment I wished I wasn’t wearing a condom. I wished I was squirting into her bare pussy, coating it and marking her from the inside as mine.
What the ever-loving fuck?
Sighing, I head into the living room. I sit on the cold, plastic desk chair and run my finger over the pad of my laptop to wake it up from sleep mode. I don’t use it for much… surfing for some porn at times, but mostly to check email.
I pull it up, glancing through the subject lines, deleting spam as I go along.
Then I see the subject line “Friday Night?” and the sender is Amy Mason.
I double click on the email and read it.
Cain,
I signed the fantasy agreement with Bridger today, and he said he’d email you a copy. I’m really looking forward to seeing what you’ve got for me. I suggest Friday after this one. Will that work for you?
Amy
Christ.
I had forgotten all about Amy and the fact that I’d told Bridger I’d do a rape fantasy in her house for her. While most of my concerns had been alleviated by Amy signing an agreement laying out the scenario, the decision to take this job was done before I ever met Sloane.
Before I promised her monogamy while we were together.
Shit.
I scrub my hand over my hair, itching at the short bristles on the back as they prickle with tension. Can I fuck Amy as part of my job with The Wicked Horse and still keep my word to Sloane? My gut tells me no… that no sane woman would consider that a reasonable exception to the “no-cheating” rule.
What’s more important is the fact that I absolutely don’t want to fuck Amy Mason. Sure… great pussy and all that, and fuck yeah… those types of scenarios are seriously hot. But for the life of me, the thought of it is almost distasteful to me for some reason.
Still… I have a job to do, and Sloane Meyers has been in my life less than a week. I might just be merely infatuated with her, and I can’t let something fleeting fuck with my world as I know it. I’m not giving up this gig and the money that will come as a result for anything.
I quickly type back a reply, even though my stomach cramps with each word that streams onto the screen.
Amy,
Friday after this one is good. But just to give me some added protection, respond back to me with the details of what you want. I know you signed the agreement, but I’d feel better if I had the email from you, especially since Charles isn’t going to be involved in this one.
I don’t even sign my name, but I hit send before I can talk myself out of it. I’m going to honor my commitment to her and Bridger because I said I would. It’s a job to me, that’s all.
I know that won’t ever fly with Sloane, so as much as it’s causing my chest to squeeze, I’m going to have to call it off with her before then.
The only question is when?
That leaves me with a week and a half to get her out of my system. Perhaps if I just fuck her soundly every night before then, the fantasy of this girl and what she does to me will wear thin. Then I can cut her loose and have a clean conscience when I fuck Amy Mason.
At least I think that’s how this will work.
Chapter 18
Sloane
In the bright light of day, as we pulled out of Cain’s driveway onto Highway 191, I immediately had my bearings. The blindfold last night had left me disoriented and because we were in what appeared to be a house, I had no clue where we were. But as I recognize Sleeping Indian Mountain on the eastern horizon and knowing we’re heading toward Jackson, it hits me that we must have been near The Wicked Horse last night. While we were definitely not in the building that Colton referred to as The Silo, we must have been on the property. And who knows… maybe it was Bridger’s house, but maybe it was something else.
Despite the fact that last night was the most intense, sensual, and erotic thing I ever could have imagined happening to me, I still don’t know jack shit about the sex club. I had hoped by carefully prodding Cain about his relationship with Rand, Logan, and Bridger, something would be revealed that could clue me in on where to turn. But he was tight lipped and honestly, I can’t blame him. He’s been hired to protect a secret, and it’s clear he also has tight bonds of friendship with those guys. I’m nothing to him and completely untrustworthy.
Which is why I realized last night before I drifted off to sleep that I would have to work the Callie Hayes angle instead. And yet, once again… I’m going to try to use Cain to get my foot in the door to try to build a story I don’t believe exists. I’m scrambling to save my job and career, and I’m doing it at the expense of a man who in just a few short days I’ve come to care about a great deal.
And yes, I do care about him.
There’s no way I could share that experience with him and not feel a bond.
There’s no way I could have slept in his embrace last night, or felt his lips on mine for a good morning kiss, and not feel something for him.
And the problem is I actually feel too much for him. So much so that perhaps I need to consider a new job and just leave all this sordidness behind. Maybe I could just work at the leather store for the rest of my life and let Cain fuck me each night, hoping that something deeper would continue to develop.
Shaking my head and trying to get back on track, I start a calculated conversation that I hope will lead to some fruition. “So what do you have planned today after breakfast?”
Cain doesn’t take his eyes off the road but says, “Not much actually. I was hoping Walt would have some work for me. He owns a construction company, but he rarely has any part-time openings in the summer months. Want to do something?”
I take a deep b
reath and spit out my lie. “I can’t actually. I have to be at work at noon, but I’m hoping to run by Governor Hayes’ local office here and see if I could talk to someone.”
Cain actually jerks in his seat and looks at me briefly before turning back. “Governor Hayes?”
I give a girlish laugh, tuck my hair behind my ear, and continue to build my story. “Yeah… I’ve been reading up on the local politics and saw he was throwing the weight of his office behind a bill that’s been introduced to put tougher controls on doctors prescribing pain medications.”
His head now swivels completely my way, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “And you hope to do what by going to his office?”
After another girlish laugh, I give him a sheepish look. “Oh, well, I want to volunteer in some way for his campaign. I’ve always had a big interest in politics, especially at the local level. Worked as a page in the Tennessee senate, volunteered for some election campaigns, stuff like that.”
Cain silently digests that and before he can start poking holes in my story, I decide to lay a truth on him to help ease my conscience a bit. “And I’ve got a vested interest in that issue.”
His head swivels to mine again, giving me a questioning look before turning back to the road. “What’s your interest in that?”
I take in a breath, close my eyes momentarily, and ask my mom forgiveness for me using her this way. “My mom has struggled with addiction to pain medications. She overdosed once… intentionally.”
“What?” Cain exclaims, his head now snapping my way with disbelief in his eyes.
I hold his look. “Six years ago. She had so many drugs in the house. Prescribed by various doctors, not checking in with each other—pharmacies not communicating. It was just too easy for her to have the power to try to kill herself.”
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, taking one hand off the wheel and reaching out to grab mine. He raises it to his mouth, presses a kiss to my wrist, and releases it. “I can’t even imagine.”
“But you can,” I point out to him solemnly. “Rachel died of an overdose.”
He nods in understanding but makes a better point. “Not the same. Those were illegal drugs, and she was just being stupid. It sounds like your mom may have been very lost.”
Tears suddenly well up in my eyes because Cain just described my mother perfectly.
Absolutely lost.
One tear slips out and runs down my cheek in a warm river. I hastily wipe my hand over it, but Cain notices. His hand comes back to grab mine, and this time, he doesn’t let it go. He holds me securely, conveying a sadness he shares with me and giving me permission to continue to grieve if I want.
I have the sudden and overwhelming urge to throw myself at him. Make him pull the truck over, crawl onto his lap, and snuggle into him. Demand he wrap his arms around me and tell me that he would forgive any stupidity on my part for the terrible lies I’ve been telling him, and more importantly, for using ugly truths to get a stupid fucking story.
The sound of Cain’s cell phone ringing cuts the silence, and he releases my hand so he can grab it off the seat beside him. He takes a quick look at the screen, and a smile lights his face.
“Hey Mom,” he says when he connects.
He turns his head to me, gives me a smile, and turns back to the road. He listens to his mother on the other line, and finally says, “Yeah… I’m almost to Jackson now. I’ll swing by really quick and take a look, but I can’t stay long. I’ve got someone with me and we’re heading to breakfast.”
He listens some more before shaking his head with amusement. “Yes, it’s a woman and yes you can meet her.”
Cain gives a hearty laugh and says, “Bye, Mom.”
I can still hear her talking on the other end when he disconnects.
After he tosses the phone back on the seat again, my heart flops over like a puppy getting belly rubs when he takes my hand again, giving it a squeeze. “Hope you don’t mind stopping by my mom’s shop for a minute. The hot water heater isn’t working, and I’m betting the pilot light just needs relit.”
“Wow,” I say with a chuckle. “Meeting your mom. This is just moving way too fast for me.”
Cain laughs, squeezes my hand, and then makes an ache form between my legs when he says, “I don’t think so. Not after you made all my dirty dreams come true last night.”
My face flushes red, and I know he’s teasing me. He’s not taking me to meet his mom. I just happen to be along for the ride.
“Listen,” Cain says, his voice now serious again. “I know Governor Hayes’ daughter. We went to school together, and she’s involved with my friend Woolf that owns The Double J. I could arrange an introduction if you want. Callie’s going to be managing his campaign, and I’m sure she’d love you to volunteer.”
And just like that, Cain gives me exactly what I was hoping to get when I brought up my interest in Governor Hayes.
An introduction to his daughter.
And I feel so terrible about it that I just want to throw up.
*
“Word of warning,” Cain says just before he pulls open the glass storefront door of Molly’s Dream Nails. “My mom can be a bit intense, so try not take what she says too seriously, okay?”
“Oh-kay,” I say slowly, not quite sure what to expect.
Cain opens the door, motioning me in. I step into what looks to be a very fashionable and trendy nail salon with six tiny desks made of black and hot pink lacquer, and two cushy reclining chairs of cream leather with large foot basins at the bottom for pedicures. Three of the desks are occupied with technicians doing nails of what looks to be local women by the way they’re dressed, but I don’t recognize Cain’s mom as one of them.
Cain strides by the technicians, who are all young and look at him with appraising looks, as does one of the customers who has to be approaching sixty years old. He tips his head, pops those dimples, and says, “Ladies.”
They all giggle and smile, fluttering their eyelashes. I want to roll my eyes, but I hurry along behind Cain as he heads toward a closed door.
Just before he opens it, I nudge his elbow and give him an amused smirk, “Do you always leave a wake of giggling women fanning themselves wherever you go?”
Cain blinks at me in surprise and points to his face, “With this ugly mug? I don’t think so.”
“Ugly?” I ask in confusion. “You have one of the most beautiful faces I’ve ever seen. Hell, I want to fan myself half the time I’m around you.”
He blinks at me again, looking stunned and disbelieving. He even cocks his eyebrow and levels a skeptical smirk at me.
“What?” I say in exasperation. “You surely know how hot you are? You don’t need me to say it to you, and your ego is plenty big enough without me needing to stroke it—”
Cain’s mouth on mine effectively shuts me up. His tongue in my mouth and his hand on my ass causes me to moan. I think I hear a few of the women give dreamy sighs behind us. The kiss is all too brief, but he only wanted to make a point. He levels a metaphorical exclamation point on it when he pulls his mouth from my lips, tilts it toward my ear, and whispers, “If we didn’t have an audience, I’d go for much more than a kiss right now.”
“Maybe there’s a bathroom,” I suggest breathily, because I’m so down with going for more. To hell with breakfast and meeting his mom and the women gawking at us.
Cain chuckles, but he whispers low. “Let’s stop talking about this right now. I don’t need to be sporting a boner in front of my mom, and she’s just on the other side of this door.”
When he pulls his face back from me, his eyes are filled with laughter and amusement. It makes him even more stunning to me, and my tongue gets all tied. So I just mumble, “Okay,” and Cain nods, opening the door.
He walks in first. I can’t see anything but his broad back for a minute, then he bends over and says, “Mom… get off the floor.”
Extending his hand out, he squats a little and then stands back up. I mo
ve to the side to see him helping his mom up.
“What were you doing?” Cain says in a loving but exasperated voice.
“Seeing if I could tell if the pilot light is out,” she says as she brushes dust off her jeans.
“But you don’t even know where—” Cain starts to point out, but then he’s ignored as she turns to me.
Cain’s mom is small… maybe an inch shorter than me. She has his same dark hair and hazel eyes that she wears very short with wispy fringes around her face. If I had to guess her age, I’d say early fifties only because I know Cain is thirty, but she’d pass for way younger.
“Oh, my word,” his mom says as she steps forward, arms outstretched and to the side. Her eyes rake me up and down, and I’m wearing the same outfit that I wore to my very first and probably only gang bang. Luckily, it wasn’t too rumpled and was at least stylish and chic. Her arms come to my shoulders and she beams at me. “You are just gorgeous.”
I blush prettily and watch as Cain’s mom turns to him, still holding me firm in her grasp.
“Isn’t she gorgeous, Cain?” his mom asks him with the same sparkling smile of pure joy that her son has brought a woman to see her.
Cain shakes his head in amusement and slides his eyes to me. His gaze pins me in place and my stomach flip-flops when he says, “Totally gorgeous.”
His mom’s smile burns brighter, and she actually sighs. I hold my own sigh in, but it’s hard because damn… that was swoon worthy.
Turning to me, she gives a push and guides me back toward the door we just came through. She loops an arm through mine and starts to usher me that way. “I’m Molly Bonham, Cain’s mother, but you probably already figured that out.”
“I’m Sloane Meyers,” I tell her as we go through the door, leaving Cain behind. I’ve known Cain’s mom for all of thirty seconds, and I’ve already lied to her the minute I told her my fake last name.
Molly leads me over to her technician table, and the other women all look at me with avid interest. Molly indicates a chair on the opposite side, and I sit. She takes her own chair and then reaches her hands out, snapping her fingers in an indication she wants my hands.
The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series) Page 35