God, no wonder I’m so sore. If Cain’s dick wasn’t in me, his tongue or fingers were. He took seriously the challenge of giving me multiple orgasms and would not stop eating me out that first round until I came three times. The third one was a struggle for me because I got all up inside my own head, worried about him being uncomfortable or getting tired or bored, but he diligently dragged it out of me, smiling up at me in triumph when I stopped shaking. By that time, he was hard again and he fucked me for a second time. This time on my back with my legs up over his shoulders.
The rest of the time is a blur. His face was back between my legs, my mouth was on his dick, and his finger was in my ass again. My nipples are sore from him pinching them, and I even got brave and ran my finger along the rim of his ass. He groaned, and if I were a braver girl, I would have done more.
Maybe next time.
If there is a next time.
All I know is that after the last time we had sex, which was doggie style again, I collapsed onto my stomach and was asleep before he even pulled out of me. I have no clue if he stayed to cuddle or got dressed and left, but I was completely out of it from exhaustion.
But today is a new day, and now I have to figure out how to play this.
He’s the only lead I have on this alleged sex club and Governor Hayes’ tie to it, unless I want to track down Colton Stokes and try to get some more info out of him. I have to say, the notion of using Cain in that way doesn’t appeal to me, but the prospect of not seeing him again doesn’t either. By continuing to pursue him, I can serve the story’s interest as well as my own.
Cain fascinates me. The notion that he’s involved in the sex club does as well, because he whispered enough dirty things to me tonight that my mind is spinning with possibilities. Even as sore and as used as I feel right now, I’m craving to learn more.
I just know he can teach me more.
Maybe I’ll just play it casual… see if he contacts me. While he didn’t ask for my number or anything, we did talk enough during some short periods of rest that he knows where I work. Or maybe I’ll go hang out at The Wicked Horse and see if I can tempt him again. All I really know is that I simply can’t go back to Brant with a big, fat “sorry I couldn’t find anything”. Either I have to prove there’s a story or I have to go back and prove to him that there’s nothing.
Either way, I still have a job to do.
Chapter 7
Cain
“How much longer will this take?” I ask as I lean up against the concrete wall of The Silo, just to the left of the entrance door.
Luke Colson is placing the last of the screws in the new security panel he just installed. He’s the best around these parts when it comes to security. With the promise of a bonus if he could get out here today, he’s just about finished with the new password panel to allow members in and keep disavowed members away.
“About another fifteen minutes to get the programming done. Then I’ll have to activate all the fobs you asked for,” he says in between tightening the screws.
Luke doesn’t question why we ordered a hundred and fifty remote security access fobs. In his job, he’s learned to not ask what he shouldn’t and just do his work well. That’s why he’ll get an extra bonus in addition to his regular fee.
“And there’s no problem in rigging up the same type of panel to the new gate we’re installing?” I ask as I push away from the wall.
“Nope,” he says confidently. “You get the gate installed with the specifications I gave you, and I can easily adapt a locking panel to it. Same fobs will grant access.”
This is a relief because while it was easy enough to tighten security on The Silo’s door, we still had to worry about all of our fantasy cabins. There are thirteen cabins in all built behind The Silo. A dirt road from the parking lot of The Wicked Horse connects them but until now, anyone could drive down it if they were curious. Woolf lent a couple of his ranch hands to come out and install the gate today, and Luke will wrap up his work by installing a security panel to the lock. Then we should be all set.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I tell Luke. He doesn’t need me here hovering and besides, there’s something I need inside The Silo.
Opening the door, I step into the cool hallway lit by dim sconces. From the outside, The Silo is exactly what it sounds like. A large, round building made of concrete staves and outfitted with a white-domed top and a grain elevator on the outside. From the inside, it’s nothing like an actual silo and everything like what a fantasy sex club should be like.
It’s approximately one-hundred and fifty feet in diameter with seven rooms constructed around the perimeter. A small, intersecting hallway from the entrance hall leads left and right, wrapping around the entirety behind the seven rooms. Concrete walls keep the rooms separated except for the interior wall that is solid glass, which is all the better for members to view the debauchery that goes on inside those rooms.
Some of the rooms are set up to accommodate certain proclivities… Gang Bang, BDSM, Swinger, Ménage, and Fetish. There’s a “performance” room with just a single bed draped in black silk that anyone can use who’s in the mood to be the star of their own fantasy show. Hell, once I was bored and laid on the bed, just jacking off while people watched. It’s a good thing I don’t get performance anxiety because that would have been embarrassing.
I make the short walk down the hallway to the center of The Silo. It’s an open area with a round, black lacquered bar that sits in the center. No one is tending it now as not many members are into drinking at ten in the morning. But someone will be on duty by lunchtime. Though no food or alcohol are served between 2AM and noon the next day, The Silo is opened 24/7 for all members who want a place to escape to and fuck.
Moaning sounds filter in muted tones, and I turn my head to see someone in one of the group sex rooms. A single overhead light is on, clearly illuminating the occupants. My jaw drops slightly, not over what I’m seeing because I’ve seen it all and done most of what I’ve seen, but by who I’m seeing in there.
Angel, Rand, and Logan.
Okay, not surprised really to see Rand and Logan. They’re both active members of the club and fuck around with each other on occasion. They’re not gay, but they are adventurous and will try anything. From what I can tell, they’ve both liked most of what they’ve tried because those two guys will visit most of the various room and cabins in a week’s time, making the rounds to the multitude of different types of sex that are available.
What does surprise me, however, is our DJ Angel. The woman has a voice so smoky rich she could probably make a man or woman orgasm with that alone, which is one of the reasons Woolf and Bridger originally hired her. She’s also a prominent player in The Silo, so I’m not necessarily surprised to see her here. But not only is she a revered fantasy maker, she is one seriously hardcore dominant. So yeah… I’m stunned to see her lying on her back, legs spread wide, getting fucked by Rand, who happens to be holding onto a collar locked tight around Angel’s throat.
Never in a million years did I think I’d see that woman give up control, especially since I know she enjoys pegging men up the ass and having them lick her feet.
My cock twitches as I watch them. While Rand is buried balls deep and rocking into Angel, Logan has his cock stuffed into Rand’s ass. All three are groaning and grunting with unrestrained pleasure. It’s hot as fuck to watch as they heave and undulate, and if I didn’t have places to go and people to see, I’d unzip my jeans and rub one off to this spectacular show.
But I do have things to do so I turn my back on them and head past the bar to a small utility closet that’s been built in between the BDSM and Fetish rooms. It holds “supplies” that are delivered here almost as regularly as the food, liquor, and beer are. Bridger has been able to find some seriously freaky toys and is always trying to come up with new and adventurous ways to play around with people. The other day, he told me he bought an industrial design vibrator that will pound repet
itively into a woman—much like an old-fashioned jackhammer. I cannot wait to see that in play.
Pulling my key ring out of my pocket, I locate the appropriate key and open the closet. Flicking on the light, I walk down the one aisle bordered on both sides by floor-to-ceiling metal shelfing. I locate what I need, grab the two boxes I came for, and lock back up behind me. I make a note to myself to give Bridger some cash when I see him next to compensate for what I just took.
As I make my way back through The Silo, I don’t cut across the center but walk the perimeter, bringing me by the room that Angel, Rand, and Logan occupy. I give a short rap on the glass with my knuckles and all three turn to look at me, narrowing their eyes to see into the gloom of the interior since none of the lights are on. But then they all smile at me in recognition and Logan calls out with an evil grin, “Come on in, man, and join us. I’ll give your ass a pounding if you want.”
He punctuates this by slamming hard into Rand, which causes Rand to slam into Angel. Rand hisses through his teeth in pleasure, and Angel gives a gasp of delight before her eyes roll backward in ecstasy. Goddamn, that’s hot. My cock starts thickening.
However, I shake my head and wave my hand at them. “No thanks,” I call through the glass. “I like my ass just the way it is.”
And that’s the truth. While I may have wanted Sloane to stick that slender finger all the way in last night and give my prostate a good massage, that’s all that will ever see the interior of my back alley. Not that I’m averse to sex with a guy. Just not anal sex. I sure as fuck won’t turn down a blow job by someone with mad skills, although I much prefer a beautiful woman with large tits.
Laughing at my thoughts, I head out of The Silo. As I pass Luke and head for my truck in the Wicked Horse’s lot, I tell him, “Bridger’s got a check for you when you’re done.”
“Sounds good,” he says without even looking at me.
As I pass by the slate path that leads from The Silo to the back door of The Wicked Horse, I think briefly of stopping in to say hello to Bridger. We talked briefly by phone yesterday after my visit with Colton. I relished telling him about the encounter, and he laughed in approval.
Colton was stubborn, but only for a few minutes. He denied being the one to out us to Governor Hayes but after only one punch to his jaw, and a follow up to his gut, he finally admitted it through wheezing gasps. I imparted my message to him, and then followed it up with just one more punch, back to his mouth, which scraped my knuckles up good. But it had been so worth it, especially when he promised in a panicked voice with a blood-filled mouth to keep his trap shut.
Good boy.
I consider only briefly seeing Bridger, but then decide against it. I have more important things to do today, the first being a trip into Jackson to visit Jackson Hole Leather Emporium and deliver the gift I just took from The Silo.
The thought of just such a gift struck me not long after I came for the last time inside of Sloane. The poor girl dropped down into a dead sleep after I pulled out of her. My dick was sore, but it was a happy dick. After I disposed of the condom, I watched her sleep while I got dressed. I thought of all the dirty things I did to her and the even dirtier things I want to do to her, and then was struck with the thought of the gift.
For a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, the actual idea that I would see her again and deliver such a gift is an oddity, but it can’t be helped. I am in fucking lust with this girl. I mean true lust, not just a generalized horniness to fuck someone. And said lust has not diminished, not even after I shot my load into her the last time. I was even then calculating when and how I could do it again. What’s even odder is the realization I’ve clearly never been in lust before, and Rachel doesn’t count. She’ll never count again. But no one has held my attention past a brief night of passion. No one has intrigued me the way she has. No one, and I mean no one, has been such an enigma to me. She’s sweet, yet sassy. Quite the innocent, yet intrigued by the sinful. Proclaims to be bold, yet blushes when I tell her I want to fuck her ass. She’s so many different things that she makes me feel off balance.
Most would say that’s not a good thing, but I say quite the opposite. This feeling… like my world is tilting just a little and I’m venturing into unchartered territory—it feels almost dangerous… it all makes me feel alive. She puts me off balance in a good way, and I like this feeling.
But most of all, my lust for Sloane is centered on this burning desire to show her all the depraved things that can make her feel so good. She’s adventurous and game, that I can tell, and I look forward to turning her existence upside down with the things she’d never be able to imagine in her most perverted dreams. I cannot wait to show her my world and maybe dirty her up a bit.
It will start with the gifts I’m bringing to her.
I cannot wait to see the look on her face.
Chapter 8
Sloane
“Here’s your receipt,” I tell the elegantly dressed woman on the other side of the counter. Zipping up the garment bag, I pick it up and carefully place it in her hands. It’s a good thing it’s completely covered too, because I may have been drooling over the gorgeous, caramel-colored suede coat lined with sheep’s wool and trimmed out in red fox. At a whopping thirty-two hundred dollars, it’s a luxury I could never afford on a reporter’s salary.
The woman smiles big and turns away, handing her package to her husband, who follows her out the door.
“Tourists,” Jasmine mutters as she comes to stand beside me, leaning over and resting her elbows on the counter. “One of the few places in the world you will see ordinary vacationers dropping that type of money on a coat they’ll probably take back to West Palm Beach and stick in the back of their closet.”
I laugh and turn to face her, leaning to the side and resting on my own elbows. “This is a very expensive place to visit.”
Jasmine nods. “It’s why I have high hopes of landing me a sugar daddy one day. I’ve slept with plenty, but one will stick I’m sure.”
Shaking my head, I smirk at her. “Is that all you aspire to be?”
She looks at me with all seriousness. “Well yeah… I mean, what’s wrong with wanting a rich man to take care of you?”
Shrugging and feeling awkward since I’m sure I just offended her, I still can’t help being honest. “Nothing, I guess. It’s just… there’s no safety in that.”
“No safety?” she asks with a cocked eyebrow. “Did you hear the ‘rich’ part I mentioned?”
“But he could dump you at any minute, and then where would you be?”
“Right back here selling overpriced leather goods to tourists,” she confidently says. “Just like you.”
Yeah, not just like me. I have ambitions and a career path. This is just a fake job. As soon as this story is done, I’m headed back to D.C. I’ll hopefully have an amazing article that will sell lots of magazines and earn me a promotion. Then all will be right in my world.
The door opens with a silvery tinkling of bells, and I look up to greet our next customer. He fills most of the doorway, projecting nothing but the shadow of a well-built man with the late morning sun bright behind him.
And then I immediately recognize the shape of his torso, the width of those shoulders… hell, I even recognize those thighs that would flex and squeeze as he tunneled in and out of my body last night.
My body temperature rises because I feel warm all over. When he steps further into the store and I can see his face clearly, I have to bite down hard on my lower lip to keep from moaning over just how fantastic he looks.
Jasmine elbows me in the ribs as she stands up, smoothing her skirt with nervous hands, and tilts her chin up at him. “Well, hello stud,” she purrs as he walks up to the counter.
His gaze is pinned on me, but he does slide a quick look over at her, giving a curt nod before coming back to me. I can see the rebuff hits her hard as her shoulders slump in my peripheral vision.
“Due for a break?” he asks me
in that low, rumbling voice.
Break? What? I blink at him in confusion because I’m absolutely stunned he’s here. I mean, of course, I wanted him to come and see me because I want to continue whatever this is.
A love affair?
A selfish means to an end for me?
Shaking my head, I ask with all the eloquence of a woman completely befuddled, “Huh?”
“A break, Right Hook,” he says with a lazy smile as he comes to a stop in front of the counter. “I have something for you.”
It’s then I notice a small, plastic grocery bag in his hand.
“You go ahead,” Jasmine says quickly and even gives me a push on my shoulder. “It’s dead in here, and I’ve got you covered. Old Man Stephenson won’t come in until later this afternoon, so it’s all good.”
I know why Jasmine is pushing me away. While Cain’s snub of her earlier may have seemed cold, I know she wasn’t surprised by it. Because she told me herself he doesn’t do seconds, and Jasmine has no clue that Cain did firsts with me last night. Oh, she hit me up as soon as I walked in this morning, as I was enjoying the ache between my legs as if it was a dirty secret, and she practically begged me for details.
I lied to her point blank and told her nothing happened—that Cain just escorted me out to a cab and I left. She accepted that with sympathetic eyes, and she must assume he’s here sniffing around for potential opportunity.
Jasmine pushes me again, and I nervously tuck some of my hair behind my ear as I sort of stumble out from behind the checkout counter.
“Got a break room?” Cain asks.
I nod and turn toward the back door that says Private. The owner, Leonard Stephenson, has a small kitchen with a table that seats four. We’re allowed half an hour for a lunch or dinner break, depending on our shift, but otherwise, he expects us to be out front to help customers. I’m not worried because as Jasmine says, he doesn’t ever come into the store until late afternoon and we are the only ones on duty. I know she won’t bother us.
Wicked Lust (The Wicked Horse #2) Page 6