The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (+Wicked Bond [5])

by Sawyer Bennett

  His cock is gorgeous. While I haven't had much up-close experience--my prior encounters being fumbles in the dark and the two men in The Silo being quickly finished with my eyes closed--I am not going to pass up an opportunity here.

  Logan's body is beautiful. Tan, hard, and muscled with hair over his chest and right below his belly button leading down to his pelvis. He's into grooming as his pubic hair is trimmed tight and his balls are hairless, which makes me wonder if guys wax down there. I'd never been waxed before until Magnus dragged me out here, but he told me it was necessary.

  It was awful and hurt like a son of a bitch. After my hair grows back in, I'm never doing that again. I'll shave and make sure I'm trimmed, but I'm never having hot wax slathered on my pubes and then ripped violently out again.

  Nope.

  Never.

  But back to Logan's body, more importantly, his cock.

  I come up to my knees as I study it. Logan is lying on his back with his hands behind his head. He's pretty big. Bigger than any other I've had. Solid, straight, and dusky colored, with a fascinating vein running up the underside that I think I'll trace with my tongue.

  "Said you never had a man go down on you before you came to The Silo," he says in a voice that sounds like warm honey, causing my eyes to cut from his dick to his face. "Ever sucked a man's cock before The Silo?"

  It's a truth I can give him. "Yes. A few times."

  Because I had. His name was August, but he went by "Gus." We ran a few scams together in our late teens. I guess I sort of fashioned myself in love with him, even though deep down, I knew con artists could never really love. I wasn't about to give up my virginity at just sixteen years of age, but I did want to please him so I gave him what he wanted. He made fumbling efforts to get me off with his fingers, which didn't work more often than it did. Definitely not a mutually satisfying relationship, but really... we did our best work on the streets making money in the only way we knew how.

  By taking it from others.

  "You okay?" Logan asks, and I noticed he's come to his elbows, his eyes laced with a bit of worry over my contemplative mood.

  "Sure," I say with a tremulous smile. "Was just thinking the other times... they weren't good."

  "Oh," he says, tone flat.

  But I hurry to clarify. "Except last night. Last night was very, very good."

  He smiles at me. It's a smile I've never seen from him before. Completely open without one thing hidden in his meaning, fully reaching his eyes and causing two beautiful dimples to appear on his face. It's a smile that tells me he's very happy I enjoyed what I did to him last night.

  "I'd like a repeat," he says with a low rumble of need.

  I give him a sexy smile before I turn and bend over him. Putting my hand around the base of his dick, I squeeze tight and descend over the mushroom-tipped head, noticing it is leaking clear fluid from the top just before it touches my tongue. Logan lets out a loud sigh of relief, but then his hand goes to my head. He pulls my hair back away from my face and mutters, "Want to see your mouth on me."

  I pull up on him, tighten my lips on the head, and cut my eyes sideways to him. He's watching me in fascination, his eyes glowing more green than anything with gold flecks sparkling. I go down on him and he groans, his hand tightening in my hair to hold it back so he doesn't miss a thing.

  Because I want him to feel as good as I did, I set a moderate pace as I bob up and down, flattening my tongue on the underside of his dick and alternately pumping him with my hand. Logan doesn't say anything, but his breathing becomes labored and harsh. Every few strokes, I'll catch a glimpse of his face, which is etched with full-blown lust and pleasure.

  This makes me happy, that I'm making him feel so good, so I double my efforts and really go to town on him, sometimes going a little too exuberantly and causing myself to almost gag. I'm so into what I'm doing it takes me a moment to realize he's pulling on my hair and saying, "Hold up, Auralie," in a rough voice.

  I pull off him, involuntarily dabbing at the corners of my mouth where a bit of saliva has pooled. His face is stormy, and he looks a bit angry.

  "Did I do something wrong?" I ask hesitantly, a feeling of gray despair starting to overcome me.

  "Fuck no," he says harshly as his hand loosens in my hair. "You're doing that a little too good, and I'm not going to last."

  "Oh," I say in wonder that I had the power to bring this vibrant and highly experienced man to completion so soon.

  "Do me a favor?" he asks with a soft smile, his hand now stroking my hair. "Use just your hands on me, okay?"

  "My hands?" I ask, dumbfounded.

  "Just your hands," he affirms. "You can use your fingers too... if you're feeling really adventurous."

  My fingers?

  Where would I put my--?

  Oh. My fingers.

  My eyes slide down to his cock. Logan spreads his legs a little, giving me a better picture of what lays beyond.

  A quiver of excitement flutters through me. I slide my fingertips over his balls, down past them to the area just behind.

  "My fingers, huh?" I ask, my eyes gleaming with the challenge.

  Logan swallows hard and nods. With a voice so roughened by desire, he practically croaks. "Yeah... your fingers."

  "I can do that," I tell him wickedly, and I have to wonder... if Logan and I were to actually have real sex with penetration, how could it ever be more thrilling than this right here?

  I probably wouldn't survive it.

  Chapter 11

  Logan

  It's been an utterly perfect morning and I've only been awake a few minutes, but it's perfect because Auralie is spooned into my body.

  It only complements the utterly perfect night I'd had with her, the sweet, virginal temptress who sucks dick like a sexual goddess.

  And yes... she ultimately ended up sucking my dick again, but only after she'd gotten me off with her hand and fingers alone. While she's clearly inexperienced, she is not without adventure. She let me talk her through the mechanics of massaging my prostate with her finger while she jacked me off. I came so hard, my jizz actually hit at the base of my collarbone it'd shot so far up my body, and I roared like a fucking grizzly bear.

  We both got cleaned up. I took a piss. Then we dozed after she settled into my arms.

  I woke up a few hours later with her mouth on my cock, taking what she wanted and being assured I'd gladly give it. Of course, I shredded her pussy with my tongue after. I have to admit, my name coming out of her throat as she orgasmed was very nice indeed.

  After that, we slept hard. I only woke up one more time around three in the morning by a violent thunderstorm that had rolled through. I listened to the rain pelting the roof and the rumble of thunder, seeing flashes of lightning, and I did it all while I held a woman in my arms that I had become completely obsessed with.

  Not once as I laid there did I think it in any way felt uncomfortable. I couldn't quite remember the last time I'd held a woman in my arms, and a quick inventory of my memories says not once in the last two years. And prior to that with Donna doesn't count. Nothing prior to my life on the road counts anymore.

  When my alarm on my phone went off at six AM, I rolled away from Auralie to shut it off and saw that I had a text from today's fishing charter. It was sent a few hours ago and only said, Need to cancel. Will we get refund on deposit?

  No, fucknut. You do not get a refund. I have a business to run.

  I quickly send a return text. No refund.

  I didn't expect to get an argument back. My clients today were two clearly wealthy college boys here on summer vacation. They apparently had more money than they knew what to do with. When they booked me yesterday through Teton Ski and Snowboard--which isn't just a winter sports store obviously--the owner, Jake Gearhart, told me they'd been partying when they stumbled in and he wasn't quite sure they would even show up.

  Again, it didn't matter. That was the purpose of a non-refundable fifty-percent deposit on t
he trip. In my line of business, you couldn't just reschedule a missed charter at the drop of a dime. I don't make a lot of money doing this. After Jake takes a small commission for booking the trip, I'm lucky if I clear a hundred bucks on each four-hour trip. I also pack snacks and water for my customers, as well as supply the tackle, which is not inexpensive. During the high season, I can do two trips a day. So on a good week, I can make about twelve-hundred, which is good bank. The problem is you have cancellations either from dicks like these guys or weather, and in a bad week, I could make as little as three hundred. Still, it's more than enough for my solitary existence living in a camping trailer, so I don't go without.

  So while it sucked losing out on the dough, there was an upside in that I was free today. I had a beautiful woman, who intrigued me greatly and made me feel absolutely amazing to be near her, right beside me and at my disposal. Besides, at least I have an afternoon trip scheduled. Jake told me these were two really wealthy men and would be tipping well.

  Putting my phone aside, I roll back over and bring my arm over Auralie's waist, pressing in tight to her backside and bringing my mouth to her shoulder where I kiss it.

  "Auralie," I whisper, and she snuggles into me tighter.

  "Auralie," I whisper again. Dragging my hand down her stomach, right to her mound, I press a finger just above where her clit lays nestled in her warm flesh.

  Her hips gyrate against me, and my cock starts getting hard.

  "What?" she mumbles sleepily.

  I move my mouth to her ear, bringing my hand back up to lay flat on her stomach. She sighs in frustration. Smiling, I tell her, "Get up. I'm going to take you fishing."

  *

  It's so much fun watching Auralie fish, and she's a fucking natural at it too. I spent a few minutes on the bank with her going over casting techniques, and then loaded her into the boat. I made sure she slathered on sun block because I didn't want to see her pale skin reddened by anything but the palm of my hand, and I gave her a fishing hat I had in one of the storage bins. It flared out wide and had a strap she could tighten under her chin.

  Then I set us off down the river, watching as she was able to catch fish after fish with just a natural affinity for when to pull up on the rod tip at the moment the trout was breaking the surface of the water to grab the dry fly that floated there. It really is all about timing and instinct. She had a natural intuition about it all that made me proud.

  By mid-morning, I pulled the boat over to the far bank that had a fairly well shaded patch of thick grass. I pulled out some bottled water and some convenience store muffins I bought after we picked the boat up from the campsite. Auralie's greatly intrigued that I live in a camper, and she tried to pepper me with questions as to what it was like. I answered them as best I could, but there wasn't much to it really. It's just... a humble life and I'm satisfied with it.

  After I drop the weighted anchor, I help Auralie to jump down, noting proudly she is not worried about getting her tennis shoes wet. I spread a blanket on the grass and we sit down in the shade, watching other boaters as they float by. Some are drift boats like mine with guides teaching tourists how to fish, and others are just lazy tubers floating down in groups while drinking beer. While the Snake River does have portions that have Class IV and V rapids, this section of the river is slow with only a few gurgling riffles that do nothing more than sway the boat.

  "It's so beautiful here," Auralie says as she sits cross-legged and picks at a blade of grass near the edge of the blanket. "It almost doesn't seem real."

  "I know," I tell her in agreement. "I've been here a year. Sometimes, I'll be on the river and I'll come around a bend. I'll see a butte I've seen hundreds of times before, and it still takes my breath away."

  "Are you happy here?" she asks, and I sense that her question has a deeper meaning. It's not been hard for her to figure out that I'm solitary and private. She knows I have no relationship with my parents and my friendships with people revolve around a sex club.

  "I'm happier here than anywhere I've been in the past two years," I tell her carefully, happy to give her a truth.

  "Happier than where you were prior to two years ago?" she inquires, and I feel myself shutting down. But I don't want to retreat from her.

  Not wholly.

  But I don't want to give more of myself to her either.

  So I use a tactic that worked well last night.

  I redirect.

  "I'd be very happy right now if you did me a favor," I murmur as my eyes cut out briefly to a drift boat with three occupants going by. It's being guided by Cash Holstead, one of the few local guides here. I know everyone on this river, and most of us are not native to Wyoming. The main reason I came here and how I was easily able to get a job as a fishing guide, which is just not something you can do without experience, is because I worked at Yellowstone all four years I did undergrad. I learned how to fish in the summers, and my father and I would come out for hunting trips in the winter. I had plenty of transferrable skills to be able to get work in this area. While I was probably competent to take a hunting trip out in the non-fishing months, I preferred to make money either taking on bartending jobs or sometimes guided-snowmobile trips.

  "What favor do you want?" Auralie asks me naively, as she surely missed the heat in my tone.

  "Put your hand down your pants... get yourself off while I watch," I tell her with a challenging grin.

  "What?" she exclaims and sits up straight. "No."

  Mission accomplished. She forgot all about her very personal question to me, and the thought of watching her finger herself is thrilling, especially out here in the open.

  "Yes," I insist. "Come on. Live a little."

  Auralie narrows her eyes at me before she flat out busts me. "You're deflecting a personal question, Logan. Not very nice."

  And yeah... that does make me feel guilty that I can't give her what she wants. I should admit defeat and tell her she's right. I should be a gentleman and change the subject.

  But fuck... now I really want to see her get herself off. I love watching my shy little virgin come out of her shell and experience the ultimate high of sexual pleasure.

  So I compromise. "I'll answer your question if you promise to get yourself off out here... right now... so I can watch."

  Auralie rolls her eyes. "We're out in the open, Logan."

  "Not really," I point out. "We're in a little alcove. People on the river can't see us until they're exactly parallel. Most of them floating by haven't even looked over this way."

  She looks to her right and her brows furrow when she realizes I am correct; she can't even see the river to her right because of trees and bushes that jut out past us from the alcove we're in.

  "And we'll switch positions," I tell her. "I'll put myself between you and the river."

  "You'll answer my question?" she asks for clarification.

  "Yes."

  Her eyes dart to the right again before moving back down to the left, possibly taking note that the current is swift and people are moving past us at a good clip. She is probably also recalling that not many boats or tubes have gone by in the last half hour. Maybe only four total, so there are many minutes in between where there's complete privacy.

  She finally looks back to me and says, "Okay. I'll do it. But first, I want to know if you're happier now than you were two years ago before you began your travels?"

  I don't even bother trying to suck in a breath of fortitude. If I did, it might actually give me too much pause and cause me to lie to her. So I go ahead and let out the truth as best as I can relay it without giving away why I feel that way. "There were moments where I was happier, but there were moments that were the worst I've ever felt in my life. As such, I try not to think of my life before my travels. It's easier to try to forget all of it."

  "Oh," Auralie breathes out.

  The sympathy in her gaze nearly undoes me. I can't stand to have her look at me that way because I have the absolutely insane urge
to lay my head on her lap and pour out all the pain I keep locked up tight inside.

  I shake my head, force fleeting images of operating tables and flatlined EKG machines out of my head, and I call forth the one way in which I know Auralie can bring me peace.

  "Hand down your pants, baby," I say roughly, my eyes going down to the button on her khaki shorts as I scoot over on the blanket to put myself between her and the river.

  She doesn't move or even say anything for a moment, and I refuse to meet her eyes, terrified she'll push me for more. But I won't give it. I answered the question, and I did it truthfully too.

  Finally, she swings her legs out from her Indian style of sitting and lays down on her right side, facing me. I go ahead and mirror her movement, lying down on my left side, with only about two feet separating us. Because my shoulders are broad and I'm much bigger than she is, I think I've got her relatively shielded.

  At least until they get past us. If some boater happened to look back, they'd get a nice surprise.

  The prospect of strangers watching doesn't make me feel guilty in the slightest. I've always loved the excitement of voyeurism, both as the watcher and the watched.

  Auralie takes a deep breath. With one hand, she manages to undo her button and zipper. I'm surprised when she even pushes the waistband down a little to give herself more room. She slides her fingers into her underwear, and they disappear from sight. My eyes are pinned on her crotch, her hand moving under the pink silk of her panties. I know when she touches her clit because she gasps and her hips jerk.

  That's so fucking sexy that I feel it straight through to my own nuts. I bring my hand over to rub at my crotch, not relieving anything in the slightest, only creating a deeper ache.

  "Fuck," I curse. My hand goes to the zipper on my cargo shorts. In a flash, I have my cock out. I risk a glance up at Auralie, whose eyes are now pinned on my hand jacking my dick. Her cheeks are pink and her lips wet from repeatedly licking at them.

  "Feel good?" I ask her hoarsely, and her eyes slide from my cock to my face. She merely nods with a feminine grunt as she rubs at her clit and her hips start bucking.

  "God, baby... that's so hot watching you do that," I praise her, and then I push at her. "Rub harder. I want you to come."