“That shit’s off the table,” I snap at him, and he blinks at me in surprise. “And clearly you two don’t have any helpful advice.”
I surge up out of the chair and mutter to Bridger, “Catch you later.”
I storm out of the Double J office but even as my own feet hit the dirt outside, I can hear Bridger saying, “Wait up.”
Turning, I see him trotting down the steps toward me. “Cut Woolf some slack,” he says gruffly. “He doesn’t know.”
“Know what?” I ask him, confused and slightly skeptical.
Bridger’s head turns slightly, and he gazes out over the open range that stretches for miles with the Teton Mountains standing tall on the horizon. When he looks back at me, he scratches at his chin. “Cat… she forced by her husband to go to The Silo?”
He worded it as a question, but I can tell he’s actually laying it out as a statement he wants verified.
“Yeah.”
“That motherfucker,” Bridger snarls, aiming his cowboy booted foot at Woolf’s front tire. It slams into the tread and bounces off as he curses under his breath.
“Not your fault,” I tell him just loud enough to penetrate his curses. I know what he’s feeling right now and it’s guilt, plain and simple. That Cat was forced to do something she didn’t want to do. “And her experience isn’t all bad there. It’s complicated.”
So fucking complicated.
“She want a job at The Wicked Horse?” Bridger asks.
I shake my head. “Still too close.”
“Let me think on it,” Bridger says. “And I’ll also check into this attorney, but I’m betting he was just paid to enforce a document that may or may not be legit. Now, can I front Cat some money?”
“I’ve got her covered,” I tell him, because fuck if I’m going to allow him to ride in and save the day for Cat. I’m not sure why I have this overwhelming need to protect her and help her. I mean, I feel for her. I really do. And she’s a great fuck, and it’s been awesome to have her right there in my apartment… but still, I can’t figure out why I have this strong of a connection to her cause.
Bridger nods in understanding. “Alright, man. But I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Appreciate it,” I tell him and turn toward my Suburban. While I might not want Bridger being Cat’s personal champion, I’ll gladly take any help he and Woolf can give me until we can figure out what’s best for her future.
Chapter 8
Cat
Opening the oven, I take a quick peek at the meatloaf I have baking and then glance at the timer on the microwave I had set. Another ten minutes and it should be done.
Rand had texted me a few hours ago letting me know he’d be home from work by seven. We had our first minor disagreement after I responded back to him that’d I’d cook dinner.
His response was almost immediate. I’ll pick up pizza.
I wasn’t sure whether to be offended that he was perhaps distrustful of my cooking or he was being an overly gracious host, but I sent him back a firm response. I insist. I want to do something nice for you.
No need, he wrote back quite succinctly.
I wasn’t so succinct. I’m cooking dinner and not arguing about it. I’ll have it on the table and ready to go at 7PM. If you can’t let me do something to show my gratefulness for your generosity, then I’m going to have to make alternative plans to stay somewhere else.
His response was still just as short, just as quick, but it made me smile. Look forward to your cooking.
It’s my hope he appreciates my efforts, although knowing Rand, that’s sort of a given. The more I come to know him, the more I admire the type of man—no, human—that he is. In all my dealings with him before at The Silo, I never looked past the exterior. He’s a glorious package and was one of my select favorites there. But let’s be honest… he was fucking a shell of a woman then. I closed off everything on the inside and would only let my body feel. With all the things that make me uniquely human shut down, there was nothing available by which I could see inside someone else. Not that I wanted to since it never occurred to me I could have a life outside of Samuel. That I could have someone truly care for me. I never even hoped for such a thing because you can’t hope for something that you don’t even understand.
That you don’t even know exists in the world.
So without that knowledge, there was never any need for me to look past the exterior of any man who had me. I was nothing but a vessel to them, and they were nothing but a few moments of physical pleasure that hopefully outweighed the shame of what was happening to me.
After our text exchange, I drove to the grocery store and put a dent in my meager funds, coughing up $9.63 for some ground bison, an onion, and some milk. The milk was for the box of macaroni and cheese I found in a cupboard. He had butter, ketchup, eggs, and spices, so I had everything else I needed for meatloaf and macaroni and cheese. Very simple and basic. I considered throwing in a green vegetable too, but I actually got sidetracked in the grocery store when I started thinking about Rand and how perfectly he was able to play my body last night. Which is weird. I never think about sex in general, but I seem to be obsessed with Rand and how he makes me feel in bed. Out of bed too, so to speak, as he got me to easily open up to him. Telling him my secrets and shames last night was freeing. The fact that he listened without judgment speaks volumes.
So yeah… I got sidetracked thinking about Rand and walked out of the grocery store without a veggie. Rand doesn’t have any vegetables among his canned goods, which leads me to believe he probably doesn’t like them anyway.
I think I’m a decent cook, and it’s something I enjoy doing. Granted, I haven’t had a lot of opportunity to experiment, but I can hold my own with the basics. Growing up, I had to fend for myself so I could get pretty damn creative. Once I left home, I took whatever food I could get, and it was often just a stolen candy bar or something. With Samuel, we had a chef when we were in Vegas. In Jackson, I did get to cook for us, although he’d never hand down a compliment to me even if he thought it was the best food ever. Not going to say I didn’t think about poisoning him a time or two, especially when he’d farm me out to others, but I just don’t have that in me, I guess. Samuel’s food remained healthy and poison free, even though I hated him enough that I hoped his advanced age would get him sooner rather than later.
Or that he’d choke on a chicken bone, it being fortuitous that I did not know how to do the Heimlich maneuver.
The macaroni is done boiling, so I go about fixing the cheap box of Kraft, adding in extra butter because that makes everything taste better. By the time the meatloaf is done and I’m pulling it out of the oven, I hear the door to the apartment open. My entire body goes on hyper-alert, and a rush of giddy excitement runs through me.
Rand’s here.
The sensation is so startling that it takes a moment to realize the heat from the glass dish of meatloaf is starting to sting through the towel I’d grabbed it out with. I hurriedly set it on the stovetop.
“Smells amazing,” Rand says from behind me. I turn to him, feeling my cheeks get warm from the praise and the anticipation of seeing him.
God… I’ve never felt this before. It’s how I imagine children feel on Christmas morning when they wake up and are beside themselves with excitement to know what Santa left them. I’ve never had that experience, but I had friends at school who did, so I could easily envision it.
I’ve most definitely never felt it for another man because I never really had a serious relationship before. I’ve made attempts, but I always picked poorly. When you’re sometimes homeless and occasionally stripping to pay rent, the choices for “good guys” are relatively lacking. I guess that’s why Samuel seemed like such a godsend at first when he showed interest in me.
Rand’s eyes flick from the meatloaf to me. His gaze lingers in a long, slow slide up and down my body. The giddiness ramps up as I feel a rush of dampness between my legs. Normally, when I feel the signs of
lust coming on, my body and persona tend to take on a life of its own. I know how to work my assets and incite the same lust in someone else with either a particular look or a sway of my hips.
But right now, I’m not feeling the need to do that with Rand. In fact, I feel a little off kilter. Rather than give him a sensual look of invitation, because let’s face it—I would not say no if he wanted to have sex right now—I blush even deeper if the heat in my face is any indication.
Rand notices this because I don’t miss the quick flash of amusement on his face but rather than make me feel uncomfortable about it, he merely gives me a boyish smile and asks, “Do I have time for a quick shower before we eat?”
“Sure,” I say, because the food isn’t going anywhere.
“I’ll only be about five minutes,” he says as he turns toward the bathroom. I figure I could use the time to set the table, but then I see him peel his shirt over his head as he walks away from me and all thoughts of plates, utensils and napkins evaporate.
And this time, the dampening of my panties is enhanced by a cramping need of want low in my gut. Just looking at his naked back roped with lean muscle and colored with tattoos incites me to near madness with desire for him. I look back to the meatloaf, and figure it’s safe enough where it is. I look back to the bathroom, where Rand has shut the door. Noticing it is not quite shut all the way, I wonder if it’s an invitation.
I look back to the meatloaf and consider my options.
Rand originally made it clear that there were no expectations of sex in exchange for his generosity in letting me stay here. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t sex, as evidenced last night by the repetitive and stellar sex we did have. I’ve had that beautiful man in my body before at The Silo, but last night was different. Last night, it was personal and moving. It was in the sanctity of his home. It was within a caring embrace. He saw me as more than just a vessel, and I literally felt the difference in the very marrow of my bones.
So last night had nothing to do with paying him my share of the rent. That was because he wanted it and I wanted it.
The meatloaf is definitely a gesture of my gratitude, but if I were to walk in that bathroom right now, would he know it’s because I want him and that it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with payback?
Only one way to find out.
I drape the towel in my hand over the warm pot of mac and cheese before walking to the bathroom door. I can hear the water running and the unmistakable sound of hot spray against skin. Before I can talk myself out of it, I push against the door and slip inside.
Rand’s bathroom is small, but it does have a tub against one wall with a navy blue shower curtain that completely hides him from my view. I can only imagine what he looks like on the other side… maybe rubbing soap all over the planes of his body, or maybe his eyes are closed and face serene while he washes his hair.
But before I can wonder any further, I hear a low groan issue from the other side of that curtain. I recognize the nature and tone of that sound because I’ve heard it often before, and I know exactly what he’s doing now. Without hesitation, I step forward and peel the curtain back a bit near the foot of the tub.
And oh my God… it’s better than I ever imagined. Rand has his face tilted to the ceiling to let the hot water hit him on the top of his head. His eyes are indeed closed and his lips slightly parted.
And a soapy hand is wrapped around his hard cock while he slowly strokes himself, twisting his wrist just a bit when he reaches the head.
I pull the curtain back further and the slide of the shower rings against the bar is loud enough to disturb Rand. His eyes open and his neck straightens.
He looks at me with lazy eyes and never misses a stroke. “Sorry. Took one look at you when I walked in that door, saw the way you blushed, and it made me incredibly horny. Had to jerk off before dinner.”
I can’t help but laugh, pulling the curtain back all the way. “Rinse your dick off.”
“Excuse me?” he says with wide blinking eyes, his hand still working himself.
“Rinse the soap off. I don’t like the taste of it.”
“Oh,” he says in understanding and immediately turns his body into the spray to do as I ask. When he’s squeaky clean, he shuts the water off before turning to face me.
He’s spectacular. Wet and muscled. Thick cock hard and standing straight up, just begging for my attention. I indulge and wrap my hand around it. He groans again and then rasps out, “Get naked, Cat.”
I shake my head with a smile before lowering my knees to the tiled floor. Rand steps to the edge of the tub, and he’s within perfect striking distance for my mouth. I wrap it around the head of his cock with both my hands to his ass, pulling him in deep. Over the last few years, I learned how to deep throat by virtue of all the cock I’ve had in it. Samuel loved to watch me choke on it. He’d get most excited when I’d gag and slobber all over. I hated the fucker for that. So I was determined to learn how to take it like a pro and not give him the satisfaction of it. With nothing but determination and a driving need to take something away from Samuel, I can now take a cock all the way down without even missing a breath or a stroke.
Rand knows this, of course, because I’ve given him head a few times. But he’s never had this reaction to me before as he shouts out when my nose presses into his pelvis and his hands come to my head to grip hard.
“F-u-u-u-u-c-k,” he curses as he literally pushes me off him but I make sure to give a measured suck once he’s out of my throat. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Yes. It. Is.
The taste of Rand in my mouth, the feel of his soft skin stretched over what feels like forged steel. The way he goes crazy when I take him back down deep again.
“Cat, you need to pull off right the fuck now before I come,” he growls at me, once again using his hands to push against me. I let him do this, leisurely sucking on him, but I have no intention of stopping.
When Rand walked back here and I felt that mad rush of desire for him, I thought I wanted him to fuck me. Yet what we have going on right here is something far and away different from the other times we’ve been together. It’s like we were in black and white, but now we’re in Technicolor.
In this moment, I realize that I don’t care if I get off. I want him to have the best damn blow job in the world, and I want him to remember that it’s from me.
So instead of releasing him as he commands, I relax my throat, open up, and pull him in deep again. It’s a clear message to him that I’m not stopping. I raise my eyes, looking up at him with his cock wedged down deep inside me, and he returns my look. His eyes are swimming with need and perhaps a question to me as to what I want.
I answer by pulling back before immediately sucking him down deep again. Repeating the move, I take a quick breath in between. Then once more, and he gets the message.
I want him to fuck my mouth.
I know he gets this because his hands grip me just a little harder but instead of pushing me off, he holds me still.
Finally, his hips start moving and Rand takes every bit of pleasure that I offer up.
He doesn’t last long at all, shouting out my name on a backward pull before shooting all over my tongue. I drink it down while staring up at him, savoring the warm, salty flavor. His eyes are closed and he has the most peaceful, blissed-out look I’ve ever seen on a man. His hands shift so his thumbs stroke my temples.
Opening his eyes, he looks down at me with a soft smile. “That was unbelievable.”
“You should have just asked me to do that to begin with,” I say with a grin.
“I didn’t want you to think—”
“I know… and I get it. But I wanted to do that for my own pleasure as well. That had nothing to do with owing you anything.”
“I’d really love to return that favor right now,” he says as he bends over and helps me off my knees.
Shaking my head, I step away and give him room to exit the tub. “We have dinner to eat
first. After that, you can have your way with me.”
Reaching over to the towel rod, I grab the one I know is Rand’s and toss it to him. He catches it and starts to dry off. When I turn to walk out of the bathroom, he says, “Cat.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “It’s going to be another all-nighter, just so you know.”
Oh, God… I squeeze my legs together to alleviate the ache that just formed.
Maybe we don’t need to eat dinner just yet.
Chapter 9
Rand
“Damn, this is good,” I say before taking another bite of meatloaf.
“We should have at least heated it up,” Cat grumbles as she takes a tentative bite herself.
Turns out, she went ahead and let me return the favor to her right after that fucking unbelievable head she gave me. She appeared to weigh her options carefully when I told her we’d be up all night again. I could literally see the wheels turning in her brain and imagined her balancing needs against wants.
On one hand, an immediate and satisfying orgasm from my tongue on her clit.
On the other, cold food that could be reheated.
She chose the orgasm, and I, in turn, tossed her on the bed and ate her out so thoroughly, I think she actually had two orgasms. A big one and then a smaller one right on the heels of that when I nipped her clit with my teeth as she was coming down. She shrieked in surprise and her back arched off the bed, and I was so fascinated by her response, I pressed two fingers in her wet pussy and felt the tremors of that release from the inside. Made me start to get hard again, but I figured we needed to eat and get some sustenance for what I had planned for her.
So I pulled a weak-kneed Cat from the bed and tossed her a t-shirt from one of my drawers. After I pulled on a pair of jeans, we stumbled into the kitchen where I fixed us up two plates. Because I was starved and horny for her again, I didn’t bother heating the food. The look on Cat’s face right now tells me she’s not a fan of cold grub.
Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse #3) Page 7