*
As soon as we step out of the hallway, I see Bridger by the bar. I pull Sloane along with me, weaving my way among the scattered patrons that are still socializing and watching the action within the rooms. Bridger’s eyebrows rise when he sees us, his gaze raking over Sloane’s unruly appearance.
“Hey man,” I say as we get within earshot. “I’m going to be a little late on the job.”
Bridger just gives me a shit-eating grin and then turns to Sloane. “Going to take a walk on the wild side tonight, darling?”
“Just for tonight,” Sloane says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Tomorrow, it’s back to plain old missionary.”
I want to laugh at that, because Sloane may be sweet and inexperienced compared to me, but she is not a “missionary” girl. In fact, she’s gotten quite bold under my tutelage the last several days, and she’s graduated up to a nice-sized ass plug and is still begging for more.
“Well, enjoy,” Bridger says.
“We will,” I tell him, and then throw a thumb over my shoulder at the room holding the stockade. “That turned out fantastic. Looks like Catherine’s having a blast.”
Bridger’s eyes turn a little sad, and he says, “Her husband died a few days ago.”
“What?” I ask in astonishment, and Sloane gives a tiny gasp of sympathy.
“Died in his sleep apparently. She’s broken up about it, I think.”
“Huh,” I say with a bit of skepticism. There never seemed to be any love between those two. I just assumed she was a trophy wife, and he was a rich ticket out of a bad life for her.
But whatever.
I have more important things to worry about.
Turning to Sloane, I ask her, “Which room do you want to go in?”
Chapter 24
Sloane
I can’t believe I’m getting ready to do this.
It’s probably a mistake, and I’m doing this for all the wrong reasons, but I’m still going to do it.
It’s odd, how you can barely know someone but still share such intense experiences with them that you develop a deep connection. That most certainly happened with us.
But the truth is, we’ve been together a little less than two weeks, and I probably had no right to trust him. I had no business to take stock in the way he seemed to want me exclusively, and I should have never believed his promise to not fuck around while we were doing a whole lot of fucking.
But he breached that, and while I logically get that to him it’s just a job, and that he was going to break it off with me and not really betray me at all, my heart still feels shredded to pieces.
He’s made it clear that, ultimately, his job is more important to him than I am, which goes back to my theory that letting him give me my fantasy probably diluted any long-term respect he had for me.
As for the sex club and his role, I think this is a way Cain makes good money and digs out of his debt. Sure, he’ll orgasm and enjoy himself, but I’m pretty sure these little fantasies he fulfills are nothing but employment for him.
Still, I also understand that this sex club is part of Cain’s life. He said he’s a member, so that means before I came along, and after I’m gone, he’s going to enjoy the benefits of it. This is the part that hurts, because there’s clearly no room for me here.
Except for tonight.
Tonight, I’m going to allow myself to be a part of Cain’s kinky world. I’m going to experience a sexual high most people will never even imagine, and then I’m going to memorialize every sordid detail for my article for Revealed magazine. Cain’s loyalties aren’t to me, so mine can’t be to him.
This means I can stop worrying about what my job might do to him.
Of course, I’ll have to swallow down the bitterness of throwing Callie under the bus along the way, but I can’t worry about her now. With Cain out of the picture, there’s no life for me here. That means no friendship with Callie.
It’s done, even though the sordidness of what I’m doing feels like a jagged razor cutting into my very soul.
I look among the rooms, taking into consideration where I want to go. There’s a room with a woman tied to a large cross, getting flogged by another woman. The room with the one woman and three men going at each other, of course, and the room with the woman in the stockade. I watch as the guy getting his dick sucked pulls out of her mouth and comes on her face—another guy stepping in and taking his place. I grimace, because Cain was absolutely right. I wasn’t built for that type of gang bang, but she seems to be enjoying it for sure.
There’s another room with a woman strapped onto what looks like a medical examination table with stirrups, her feet secured in them and legs spread wide. An enormous guy dressed head to toe in leather, including a black leather mask that covers his face, stands in between her legs. He holds a machine with an electrical cord that’s plugged into an outlet. The other end of the machine has a giant dildo on the end that’s attached to some type of mechanism that causes it to pump in and out of her vagina like a jackhammer. She thrashes and moans on the table, and then her back arches up as she orgasms.
A cramp of desire hits me hard between my legs. I realize I’ve been turned on from the minute I got here, but I’ve only now had the freedom to appreciate it.
My eyes slide over to the next room, filled with various pieces of furniture and three couples in there fucking. That would be an easy enough choice, but I hesitate. None of it seems right.
None of it seems like it makes a statement to the man who I want to understand fully that I have the ability to satisfy him in all counts if he’d only just stay committed to my body alone.
So I turn to Cain and say, “Any rule against us fucking right here?”
Cain jerks and Bridger, who’s still standing right beside us, laughs darkly. “You got a wild one there.”
Cain doesn’t even bother to acknowledge Bridger, but looks left and then right at the people all around us. Many of them are watching the action in the rooms, but others are just enjoying quiet drinks as they mingle close by.
“Right here?” he asks incredulously.
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “What’s the difference except a piece of glass separating us and maybe some useful furniture?”
And to prove my point, I turn to one of the swivel stools sitting at the circular bar behind Bridger and pat my hand on it. “You could bend me over this and just go to town.”
Cain shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen—”
I give a startled yip when Bridger’s hands go to my waist. He easily picks me up, sits my ass down on the black, lacquered bar, and motions his hand toward me. “There you go, Cain. Your girl wants to get fucked right here.”
I expect Cain to argue and pull me down, because I can tell I’ve thrown him off his game tremendously. It makes me feel good to know I can fluster the great sex machine and master, Cain Bonham.
But instead, his eyes narrow at me and then spark with an almost evil intent. He steps up to the bar, in between my legs that are dangling over the edge, and puts his hands on my knees.
Giving them a squeeze, he asks, “Right here?”
“Right now,” I whisper in affirmation.
“Suit yourself,” he says with a wicked laugh. His hands quickly pull my sweatpants free of my legs. I have to slap my hands on the bar for leverage as he practically pulls me right off the top along with my pants. His hands go back to hips, and then my underwear is being whipped free.
I take a moment and look around. Bridger putting me up on the bar caught everyone’s attention that was sitting to the left and right. A few nearby couples watch with interest, and my head turns to Bridger, who is just standing casually next to me, his elbow resting on the bar near my thigh. He gives me a wink and says, “Enjoy, Sloane.”
Cain bends over, presses his face right in between my legs, and runs his tongue up my center. A hoarse bark of surprise pops out of my mouth and I lean to one side to put weight on that arm, my other h
and coming to Cain’s head to hold him to me. With nothing but the power of his tongue and the movement of his face side to side, he starts working against my clit in a determined fashion.
“That’s hot,” Bridger says, and my eyes flutter closed without even looking at him. This is way hotter than what I imagined fucking in any of those rooms would be like. While the view is just as unobstructed, I guess there is some security in that wall of glass that separates the fuckers from the watchers.
Pain bursts in my right nipple. My eyes fly open to see Bridger’s head at chest level, my t-shirt and nipple in between straight, white teeth. He then sucks at it through the material, licking to alleviate the sting. He pulls away and winks at me again, then turns his back on Cain and me, as if he’s totally uninterested, which makes what he just did all that more wicked.
Cain works his tongue against me furiously, moaning his approval over my taste and scent. He flutters hard, growls against me, and my orgasm catches me off guard.
“Fuck,” I cry out shrilly, my fingers digging into his scalp.
He laughs, kisses my pussy, and then stands up straight. Reaching over onto the bar, he grabs a napkin off a stack and wipes his mouth. He crudely balls it up and tosses it on the top right by my hip.
“Was that what you wanted?” he asks me soberly. “Did you like everyone watch you get your pussy tongue fucked?”
I swallow hard because I hear anger in his voice, and I don’t get it. Isn’t this what he wanted too? I mean, this is his fucking life. He’s a member of this club, and I just tried to show him I can be as down and dirty as any of these people.
Plus, there’s the added benefit of me getting a story.
Before I can say a word, Cain is pulling me off the bar and throwing me back over his shoulder.
I protest with a “Hey, what the hell—” but he reaches his hand up, slides it up the back of my thigh, and presses a finger into my pussy from the back of me. I buck against the sensation, but his strong shoulder bears the burden. I’m upside down, but he spins away from the bar and starts walking away from the hallway that leads outside.
I have no clue where we’re going until I hear a door open, the sound of a light being turned on, and then the door closing again. Cain bends over and puts me down, steadying me by my shoulders as I straighten up.
I get only a moment to sweep my gaze left and right, immediately realizing we’re in some type of supply room. Floor-to-ceiling metal shelves lined with boxes, bottles, tubes, and bags filled with sexual paraphernalia.
“Why are we—?”
My words are cut off as Cain slams his mouth against mine, giving me a deep and bruising kiss. When he pulls away, he simply says, “No talking, Sloane.”
His hands come to my t-shirt and he whips it over my head, leaving me completely naked before his lips are on me again. Cain’s hands come to my ass and he hauls me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He walks back five paces until I’m pressed up against a cold, concrete wall.
Cain then kisses me so soundly and thoroughly, my head starts to get fuzzy. He possesses me with his lips and tongue, and he seems to be trying to communicate something to me in the ferocity of his touch. My heart reacts, my arms winding around his neck, and I start to kiss him back.
I kiss Cain right there in a dismally lit storage room. The way his tongue strokes and rolls over mine is of a completely different nature. It seems to be full of apology and regret, and my answering kiss seems to tell him I understand even though I’m still hurt. Without a single word being said between us, the kiss speaks volumes.
I’m barely cognizant of my surroundings, perhaps I notice the sound of Cain’s zipper coming down, I’m not sure, but then he’s thrusting inside of me. The initial burst of pleasure with the tiny stretching sting makes me gasp into his mouth.
“Fuck, that feels good,” Cain groans against my lips, and his hips start hammering at me. He thrusts up into me, grinding my spine into the wall and groaning in lustful abandon.
I try to say his name… I think in praise for how wonderful this is… but he’s pounding into me so hard I stutter, “Ca-ai-ai-ai-ai-n.” He ignores me, fucking me harder and faster. My fingers dig into the back of his neck and I press my face into his shoulder, hanging on for the ride as he completely dominates me.
Cain pulls back and slams in, causing me to cry out, and then he goes still. I pull my face up and look at him. His face is flushed with a sheen of sweat, but his eyes reflect back a brokenness that causes my heart to cramp.
“I don’t want to lose you, Sloane,” he says gruffly, and then because we can’t ignore the way he’s lodged in me, all of our nerves pulsing for release, he does a slow swivel of his hips and grinds into me again.
I moan, “Then don’t.”
Please, please don’t.
He pulls back, sinks into me slowly. “I don’t want anything but this pussy right here.”
My muscles clutch reflexively over the yearning in his voice, squeezing onto his cock hard. He groans again, pulls out, and slams back in.
He does it again and again. He picks the pace back up, tunneling deep as if he’s trying to crawl inside my body. A singular shudder of pleasure ripples up my spine, back down again, and then bursts wide open in a firestorm of release that catches me completely by surprise.
“Oh, Cain,” I call out as my head falls back against the wall.
Cain drives deep, plants his feet so he can grind hard against me, and starts to fall apart. His face falls to my shoulder, his fingers dig into my hips, and his cock starts to pulse inside of me as he climaxes.
His breathing is harsh, his shoulders hunched.
His face remains hidden.
Cain draws in a deep, stuttering breath. When he lifts his forehead from my shoulder, he looks me dead in the eye. “I’m not going to do it. Friday… with Amy. I’m yours and yours alone if you’ll have me.”
My eyes flare with surprise as pure joy seems to burst within every molecule of my being. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” he says gravely. “I want you so much, Sloane. I’ll give the sex club up. I’ll find some other way to earn money. If I come back here, it will be with you… only as a couple.”
The only way I can answer him is by taking his face in my hands and kissing him hard. He barely gets his tongue in my mouth before I’m pulling back to look at him, still disbelieving of the sacrifice he’s making for me. “You’d do that for me?”
“I think you’re pretty amazing,” he says with a smile. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but this is so different from anything I’ve had before. I want more of it, and I’ll do what it takes to keep it.”
I slam my chest against Cain’s, wrap my arms around his neck, and press my face against his. My eyes get wet with emotion, and I whisper, “I can’t believe this. It’s more than I could have wanted.”
He squeezes me affectionately and mumbles, “So we’re cool?”
“We’re cool,” I say as I smile, and I know he can feel it from where my cheek lays against his.
Another squeeze to my waist and then Cain starts to lower me to the ground. His cock slips free and the minute it does, a stream of liquid runs down my inner thighs.
I look down as Cain steps backward.
He looks down, sees his semen trickling down, and curses, “Fuck.”
Cain puts his hands on my shoulders, and I look up at him.
“I am so sorry, Sloane,” he says tritely. “Christ… I wanted in you so bad, I wasn’t thinking. And then… I realized it, but then I wanted to come inside you, and I just couldn’t fucking help it. But I promise to fucking God Almighty… I’m clean. I have to take health screenings routinely, and I always wear a rubber. I swear it.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him, because I trust him on that issue. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Are you—?”
I nod. “—on birth control? Yes.”
Cain sighs in relief, pressing his forehead against
mine for a minute. When he pulls back, I also assure him, “I should be clean too. I mean… that’s the first time I’ve had sex without a condom. But I can go get tested.”
I could tell that issue hadn’t crossed his mind, so he shrugs it off. “I’m sure it’s fine. But how about we both get tested and since it’s just you and me, we do away with wrapping my dick up, okay?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay. I will have to say, it’s way nicer that way.”
“Oh, yeah.” He chuckles. “That was the fucking bomb, I shit you not.”
“You’re a poet,” I say drily.
“And this poet really needs to get you dressed, back to my place, and then back to work.”
“Will you send Amy an email cancelling?” I hesitantly ask him.
“Even better… I’m going to tell Bridger right now as we’re leaving. He can handle the cancellation with her, and besides… I’m sure he can find some other guys to handle it.”
“Like Logan or Rand? I assume they’re members?”
“Or any number of other horny members,” he points out with an affirming nod. “The club has almost one-hundred and fifty members. She’s not going to be suffering from lack of attention.”
“Okay, then,” I say with a relieved breath. It seems like in the blink of an eye, things have changed drastically for Cain and me. It causes hope and happiness to fizz within me like a fine champagne.
“And Sloane,” Cain says as he tucks himself into his pants. “You can’t tell anyone about this club, okay?”
A flash of pain stabs into me, seems to tear my guts up as my little happy bubble is burst. Reality filters in, and I realize this line between truth and lies is impossible to walk anymore.
“Yeah… of course,” I tell him soberly. “I understand it’s a secret.”
Chapter 25
Cain
I sit in my truck and look up at my small house. It’s never seemed like anything but a house before to me, but knowing Sloane is sitting inside right now sort of changes the dynamic. I could see her staying there permanently with me, making a home with me.
The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series) Page 40