“He… um… sort of used a flogger on me,” she says with her cheeks also turning pink. “And he um… got me off with his fingers.”
I push the chair back from the table to stand up, pick up my full glass of wine, and chug it down. When it’s empty, I set it back on the table, grab the nearest bottle, and fill it back up. I grab it, intent on getting shitfaced drunk, but Sloane reaches over and pulls it toward her—out of my reach.
I glare down at her and then around the table in succession. “This is messed up. And I know messed up. I’ve been held captive in a biker compound for three years, and I’ve seen all sorts of fucked-up shit. But this… you people are all friends and sleeping with each other, and no one seems to be bent out of shape about it.”
“We don’t all sleep with each other now,” Auralie points out. “That was in the past, but I’ll maintain to you… there’s nothing wrong with it if we did decide to do that. As long as everyone is consenting and understands the consequences.”
“We’ve all felt what you’re feeling,” Callie adds on softly. “The jealousy and guilt that comes with sexual freedom and exploring your desires. It’s hard when your heart belongs to someone, but if there’s trust and care, you can explore those freedoms with other people who are within your circle of trust.”
“I’d never share Bridger with anyone,” I say vehemently.
Sloane cocks an eyebrow. “Even if he asked you to? Said it would turn him on? That it would be a special gift if you’d agree to it?”
Would I? Would I give that to Bridger if he asked me? I yearn for a connection so badly with him. What would I do if he came to me and asked me to have a three-way with another man? Or another woman?
Could I do that?
The answer comes to me with utter clarity. Absolutely not.
No way.
“I may have made some poor choices in my life, but I’ve always been loyal to the man I’ve been with,” I say with my chin held high. “I just couldn’t.”
“And that’s a fair statement,” Cat says softly. “But maybe you could try to understand that some couples are so secure within their bond that it’s not a breach of loyalty. It’s actually quite an intimate experience.”
My head hurts from the implications. I sit back down in the chair, actually slumping down. “Do you think Bridger’s going to expect that of me?” I ask in a quiet voice.
A warm hand covers mine, and I look up to see it’s Callie’s. She gives me a confident smile. “I don’t know what’s in Bridger’s head, but I can tell you… each one of the experiences we’ve had with him have come at the request of our men. It wasn’t Bridger’s idea. He was only accommodating his friends’ requests. But what I do know is that Bridger has never shown interest in a woman before in the way he has you. He clearly has feelings for you.”
“I don’t know about that,” I mutter, thinking of the fact he can’t even stand to come inside my body.
“Well, I do,” Callie says firmly. “I know Bridger better than any of you, except maybe you, Maggie. You might actually know him better, but if you think that man isn’t interested in you, you are truly blind to what’s right in front of you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say glumly. “He’s made it clear he has limitations, and that what we have now is about all he has to give.”
“I don’t believe that,” Cat says, and I turn to look at her. “I may not have been intimate with Bridger, but I know him quite well. I’ve talked to him a lot, back when my husband was parading me around The Silo as his sex toy on loan to anyone who wanted to fuck me. He’s a good man. I mean, he’s really deep down decent. He is devoted to those he cares about, and I think he’s shown he cares about you based on how he’s helped you. I think people see Bridger as this mystery because he’s intimidating and withdrawn. But I think he probably has the biggest heart out of all of us. He just keeps it locked up for some reason. If I were you, I’d figure out that reason and then how to bust that lock.”
A small flicker of hope burns bright in the center of my chest. “Do you really believe that?”
“I do,” Cat says with an encouraging smile.
“Me too,” Callie says. “He’s an amazing man, but I think you’re an amazing woman. He’s lucky to have you.”
A key rattles in the front door lock. We all freeze as if we’re caught robbing a bank, and then slowly turn toward the door as it opens. Speak of the devil, Bridger walks in with Woolf right on his heels.
“Now there’s the hottest man to ever grace the Teton mountain range,” Callie says in surprised delight as she gets up from the table and saunters over to Woolf.
He puts a hand behind her neck and pulls her in for a slow, hot kiss that makes me yearn for that type of reaction from Bridger when he sees me. As it is, he looks at me sternly, eyes taking in the wine and chips spilled all over the place.
When Woolf lets Callie up for air, she places her hands on his chest and asks, “What are you doing here, babe?”
He nods over to Bridger. “He asked me to come over and take you ladies home. Figured you’d all be too tipsy to drive.”
“But we’re having fun,” Sloane says with a devilish smirk. “Bridger can just haul himself off to bed and us girls will hang out. We can all crash here, right?”
“Wrong,” Bridger says curtly. “Now clear out.”
“Mr. Grumpy Pants,” Callie challenges him, and then bats her eyelashes. “Come on, Bridger. You can party with us. I’ll get you a glass of wine. You can hang out with the girls tonight.”
“The only one I want to hang out with is Maggie,” Bridger says with his eyes narrowed at Sloane. “And I’d like to do it alone, so you ladies get your purses and your half-empty wine bottles and get home to your men.”
Callie snorts but then Woolf is pulling her toward the door. “Come on, girls. Let’s get going.”
Callie jerks away from Woolf, and says, “Wait a minute. I need my purse.”
She hurries over to the table where her purse is draped over the back of her chair and leans in to whisper to me excitedly. “He wants to spend alone time with you.”
“Yeah, I got that, Callie,” I say dryly, but I’m not denying the butterflies zooming around my stomach when he said that.
She gives an excited little squeal and gives me a hug. It’s obvious to everyone, including Bridger, that she thinks there’s a love match occurring. While I want to share her enthusiasm, I remember all too well how firmly Bridger sets himself apart from me, unwilling to give himself to me completely.
The girls all grab their purses, stepping up to give me hugs and whispered words of encouragement. Bridger watches all of this with an impassive face. He doesn’t even flinch when Woolf walks by him and punches him in the arm, stating, “Have fun, dude.”
When they’re all cleared out, he locks the door and sets the alarm code.
“Been talking about me, I see,” is all he says when he turns to face me.
I shrug, although my heart is racing. I don’t know if he’s mad or what, but he’s making me incredibly nervous. “Women drink wine, we talk.”
Bridger saunters up to me until we’re standing almost toe to toe. He looks down at me, taking a lock of my hair and rubbing it between his fingers thoughtfully. “And did you learn anything new about me?”
“Only that you’re a seriously complex man who has apparently been with every woman who was just in this house,” I say tartly.
His eyes slide up to mine lazily, and he smirks at me. “Not Cat,” he says without apology about the other women.
“That’s all you have to say about it?” I ask in disbelief.
He drops my hair, but the smirk stays in place. “What do you want me to say, Maggie? Should I apologize to you for every woman I’ve been with before you? Or should you be happy in the knowledge I haven’t been with anyone since you and I were together?”
“No one?” I ask suspiciously, because he did just come from spending several hours in a sex club.
Emotions rage within me. I’m ecstatic he’s not been with anyone since me, but a little put off that he talks about casual sex so… so… casually. It’s just another reminder that he’s so far removed from the intimacy of it that I fear he can’t be reached.
I could argue with him about this, and I could act like a bitter shrew who has lost her footing and doesn’t know where she stands, but it won’t do any good. Bridger is comfortable in who he is and no amount of unease on my part will change that.
So instead, I step into him and put my hands on his hips. In a husky voice, I remind him, “You said something about wanting to be alone with me. What did you have in mind?”
He leans down and gives me a soft kiss before he says, “I’ve got something I want to try with you. Got a little inspiration at The Silo.”
“Whatever you want to try, I’m all in,” I tell him as I flex my fingers into his hips. His eyes flash hot, and then he pulls me toward his room.
Chapter 17
Bridger
“Whatever you want to try, I’m all in.”
Maggie’s words continue to echo in my head as I lead her by the hand back to my bedroom. She pauses at the room she shares with Belle, peeking in on her. A soft, luminous smile graces those perfect lips when she sees her daughter, and I wish I could capture that look. It speaks everything about motherhood that I don’t understand but find deeply touching. I’m extremely happy Maggie has reason to smile like that.
The minute we cross the threshold of my room, I turn to Maggie and kiss her. It’s as wondrous and volatile as the other times my mouth has been on her—fueled by desire and sheer lust for her taste. She moans, reciprocates, but before we can get going, I pull away and start to remove her clothes. It takes me no time at all to get her naked, and then I swiftly dispose of mine.
Maggie unabashedly looks at my body, eyes roaming all over. Her eyes hesitate over the flock of blackbirds flying up from my rib cage before turning in toward the center of my chest. Her eyes linger on the one near the center that explodes in a puff of black feathers, and then her eyes drag downward, following the inked feathers that float down the front of my abdomen.
Her eyes travel even further down. She stares with no shame at my cock, which has been in a state of semi readiness since I walked in the door and laid eyes on her, and then went fully hard when I kissed her moments ago.
“I want your mouth on it,” I say in a low rumble of need, and Maggie’s eyes snap back up to mine.
“You just want a blow job?” she asks incredulously, as if she was expecting me to ask for so much more. Yet, she has no idea.
I step up to her, slide my fingers around the back of her neck, and pull her in closer to me. I lean down and place my lips near her ear. “No, Maggie. I want your mouth. Your tongue. Your throat. I want all of that on my cock, and I want your eyes on me as you suck it. And if there’s a God who’s willing to give me this, I want to come on that pretty tongue and watch you swallow me down.”
Maggie’s eyes round in shock, and she whispers, “Oh, God.”
She actually sways a bit, and I tighten my grip on her neck. “Wanna give it a try?”
“More than anything,” she whispers, and she punctuates that desire by licking her lips. The head of my dick starts leaking at the promise in those words.
I kiss her again, very briefly, just to get a measure of control before turning to the bed. After I grab a pillow, I turn back to her and drop it on the floor. I flash a grin. “Don’t want your knees to get sore.”
She manages to smile, but I can tell she’s not falling prey to my little bit of levity to lighten the situation. It’s just as well. My attempt at humor was nothing more than a way to help distract me from the curl of fear deep in my belly. There have been times in my life where I’ve been scared… mostly when I was younger. But most things in adulthood don’t cause me much pause.
Except right now.
I’m terrified this could disastrously spell the end of us. It’s one thing for me to hold myself back from Maggie because I’m too scared I’ll be disgusted by coming in her mouth. It’s an entirely different prospect that I might have the figurative balls to shoot down her throat, but if I’m disgusted by it, I won’t look at her the same way again. If that happens, I’m quite positive it’s all over for us.
“I’m scared,” Maggie admits to me in a whisper. “What if I’m not good enough… to you know… make you want to…”
I reach out and jerk her softly to my body, my need to assuage her fears more powerful than trying to talk me out of my own. I wrap my arms around her and press a kiss to the top of her head. It’s the single most intimate thing I’ve ever done with a woman, and I’m bolstered by the fact that it doesn’t feel strange, just right.
After a moment, I release her to peer down at her again. “Mags… anything you do to me will be the best I’ve ever had because it’s you. If there’s any failure tonight, it’s on me… not on you, okay?”
She nods with quiet acceptance, but then says with a bashful smile, “It’s a lot of pressure.”
I grin at her, for real this time. “There’s a lot of pressure in my dick right now. I bet you could alleviate it if you’d just get down on your knees.”
Her smile widens and I see mischief in her eyes for a moment before they sober a bit. “No matter what, Bridger. Promise me that if this isn’t something you can do, you just pull out and do what you need to do. It doesn’t change how I’ll feel about you.”
I brush my cheek against her face, and I lie to her. “I promise.”
But if this doesn’t work, I’m done. I can’t continue to torture myself by wanting something desperately that I can’t have, and I can’t continue to hurt Maggie by not being able to give her what she so needs and deserves.
Maggie leans into me, placing her hands on my chest. My pecs jump from the contact and a bolt of lust courses through me when she places her lips right over my heart and gives me a soft kiss. Then she slides that mouth down my stomach, nibbling and licking at my skin as her fingers travel right along down.
When she gets to my pelvis, she veers around my dick, which is bobbing in front of her and angled to the ceiling, kissing my hipbones while her fingers press into my thigh muscles. She slips a hand in between my legs and fondles my balls, and fuck yeah… that feels damn good.
My arms stay loose at my sides but my fingers curl inward, mainly to prevent myself from grabbing onto her head and demanding she give my cock some attention. I stare down at her as she works slowly with her mouth, tasting and exploring my body. Her hair shimmers, streaks of chocolate, honey, and caramel, and my fingers also itch just to slide into that softness I know smells like the pear shampoo and conditioner I bought her.
Maggie pulls her lips away and focuses in on my cock, which hovers in front of her face. Her delicate hand circles the base. A rumble of lust ripples through me as she sticks her tongue out and laps at the clear liquid seeping from the end, wiggling it against the slit. Electric pleasure shoots through my dick and travels up my spine from that tiny touch, and a deep groan slips out of my mouth.
Maggie looks up at me, those green eyes shining with desire, and whispers, “See… you’re already on my tongue now, and I have to tell you… you taste amazing, Mr. Payne.”
Pure joy radiates through me as I realize she’s right. My cum—pre as it may be—has touched her tongue, and I liked it. No, I loved it—that soft feeling like heaven against me. My hands reach up and grasp the sides of her head. In a voice hoarse with lust and tinged with a bit of fear that this will still result in failure, I barrel forward and say, “Let’s get more of that mouth on me then.”
“My
pleasure,” she says, her voice raspy with sex and promise.
Then her mouth opens, and she pulls my cock into her soft warmth.
My legs almost buckle at the first contact… the pure, unadulterated feeling of skin-on-skin contact with Maggie. She pulls me straight back until my head bumps against the back of her throat. She opens up, makes a swallowing motion, and takes me back even further.
“Goddamn.” I groan at the sensation of her throat accepting my cock. She moans, sending vibrations of pleasure through me, and my fingers tighten against her head unintentionally. I have to force them to relax and fight against the overwhelming need to hold her tight and plunge further down her throat.
Maggie pulls back, her tongue massaging the underside of my dick as it slides free. She sucks greedily on the tip, pulling more pre-cum into her mouth, and I’m astounded that the thought I’m passing my liquid into her body is turning me on rather than off. She spends moments working the head of my dick, licking furiously against the sensitive underside and prodding my slit with the tip of her tongue while her hand squeezes and strokes the base. My balls tingle and rage with the need for more.
I need more from her now.
I need it with a blazing intensity that is threatening to unravel me.
Maggie’s eyes peek up and I’m not sure what’s written on my face, but I think it might convey the fact I’m on the very edge of losing control because she immediately pulls her mouth off me and asks, “What do you need, Bridger?”
God, what do I need?
I need everything from you, I want to say, but no way I’m letting her that far in.
My voice practically croaks. “I want to fuck your face, Mags. You can clearly take it deep, and I want to possess that throat. Give me the control.”
So what if that sounded like begging?
Maggie smiles at me, her eyes shimmering with lust, relief, and adventure.
No triumph though. I don’t see a flicker of that anywhere, and that makes me even hornier for her.
The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series) Page 107