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

by Sawyer Bennett

Maggie licks her lips and a thrilling ripple of anticipation courses through me, making my skin prickle and my balls tingle.

  Stepping to the bed, I reach a hand out and wrap it around the back of her neck again. I pull her from the bed into a standing position and lean down for a brief kiss. She sighs and goes lax, but I release her and she wobbles a bit.

  Taking two steps backward, I sit down on the opposite bed, take my dick in hand, and start to stroke it. "Get undressed for me, Mags. Let me see that beautiful body."

  A quavering breath flutters out of her, but her fingers go immediately to her top and she unbuttons it slowly. My mouth waters as she reveals her breasts and drops the fleece shirt to the floor. Her hands go to the waistband of her pants, tucking her thumbs in. She bends over to push them off, stepping out of them carefully.

  I grip my cock hard as I stare at her naked body, her curves and soft skin beckoning. Want to put my mouth to those nipples and rub my shaft all over that softly rounded belly that has faded stretch marks right across the bottom. Fuck... when had that ever turned me on? But it does for some reason, and I think it's because she stands there proudly as a mother who bore a daughter and doesn't give a fuck what it did to her body.

  It's a perfect imperfection in my mind.

  "Come here," I murmur. She obeys instantly, taking the few steps across the carpet to stand between my legs.

  I release my cock, put my hands to her waist, and lift her so she's straddling my lap. She immediately pushes down to rub her pussy on me, but I hold her tight. She squirms, uttering a moan of protest.

  "Slow down," I tell her, my fingers lightly brushing over her lower stomach... right over her scars, and then down between her legs. I push my fingers through the lips of her sex, feeling the slick wetness and she fucking purrs in satisfaction.

  I can't decide what I ultimately want to do to her, but I know first thing on my agenda is to get her off. Want to hear my name when she comes. I know my fingers can do the trick, but that's already been done.

  I drop my torso down to the bed, my hands gripping her thighs, and look up at her straddling over me. She looks down at me, her caramel-streaked hair falling over her shoulders but not hiding those magnificent tits peeking through. She's stunning and for a few moments, she feels untouchable, and that makes me doubt.

  Then, an immediate feeling of foreboding courses through me, and Maggie's face morphs into hers.

  She bounces harder and faster, and then she taunts me further by grabbing the ring swaying from the necklace in one hand and bringing it to her lips. Pushing it into her mouth, she sucks on it as she looks down at me in triumph before she spits it back out and pants, "You're so fucking good, baby. I'll never get tired of this cock, you know."

  My fingers dig into Maggie's thighs, and I blink my eyes rapidly to dispel the memory. My eyes drop to her stomach to see the stretch marks. I start to get my bearings, and I know this is Mags, who's been abused and tortured, just as I was once, and I know she's not the same woman who destroyed me all those years ago. My stepmother never experienced the miracle of birth, and that's only because she was too fucking selfish to share her body with another creature.

  In my heart of hearts, I know Maggie isn't her.

  Still, her position on top of me causes anxiety to squeeze my chest so I slip my hands around the back of her thighs and pull on her. "Get up here," I tell her gruffly. "Want you to ride my face."

  "Oh, God," she mutters as she crawls her way up my body. My eyes drop to that pussy getting nearer and nearer. Saliva floods my mouth, and that's something new. While I'm no stranger to handing out oral, I only do it for the benefit of the woman, never for me. It's no different from me striking a nipple with a whip.

  But for some insane reason, my tongue tingles with the need to taste her and to experience the flavors of this woman.

  Maggie places her hands on the bed above my head and with the urging of my hands on her ass, I pull her down to my mouth.

  Chapter 12

  Maggie

  Bridger's mouth on me is like fire and ice all at the same time. Searing heat, chilly tingles.

  A violent shudder rockets through me as he shoves his tongue inside, only to pull it back out and close his lips on my clit. I let out a horribly guttural groan that seems to fuel Bridger, as he starts to flutter his tongue over the sensitive knot in rapid succession. I can feel myself leaking all over him, but I can't find it within me to care, because this feels better than anything I've ever felt in my entire life.

  My fingers dig down into the bedspread and my hips start to tilt and flex against his mouth. Wet sucking sounds fill the air along with approving groans from Bridger as I do, indeed, start to ride his face. I dip my head down, looking past my swaying breasts, but I can see nothing but the top of his head as he works his tongue against me. His hands massage my ass muscles, creeping inward with each flex and release on my butt.

  Pursing his lips around my clit, he starts to gently suck against me and a jolt of pleasure bursts between my legs. His clever fingers burrow down in between my ass cheeks and he rubs them in alternating patterns right over my sensitive hole which puckers involuntarily because it's an incredible sensation. Zeke took my ass on occasion and I always hated any touch back there, but God... Bridger's touch is gentle yet commanding. He clearly knows how to make ass play pleasurable. I consider what his cock would feel like, but that's for another time.

  Right now, he's feasting on me in a way that no man has ever done. I feel my orgasm already starting to gather, and I've been on his face probably less than thirty seconds.

  His tongue starts lashing against my clit again, and he maneuvers one hand in between my legs to push two fingers into my pussy.

  "Oh, God... Bridger, wait..." I cry out, because that is causing sensory overload and I don't want to come yet. This is too good to just let it come and go so fast.

  He chuckles against me, pulling his fingers out, and I sigh in relief that I can enjoy this a little longer. But just as he decides to suck on me again, lips gathering tightly around my clit, his fingers, now wet with my desire, push back against my ass. I tense up as he pushes a single digit against my hole, and then go almost rigid when he pushes the tip of his finger in. At the same time, he bares his teeth and bites at my clit, and stars burst in my head as my orgasm rips through me.

  "Fuck," I cry out, involuntarily mashing my pussy down hard on his face. His finger slips further into my ass, and my hips start gyrating to force more friction against his mouth.

  Poor Bridger's probably suffocating down below, but I can't stop myself from rubbing myself all over his face while his finger starts to fuck my ass. Tremors peel up and down my spine, igniting every nerve within me. Bridger gives a hard suck again on my clit, which fires off a second orgasm before the first even fades away.

  "Bridger," I scream as it all becomes too much and I actually fling myself off him, coming to rest on the mattress beside him. He growls in disapproval over the loss and rolls my way, pushing me right onto my back and coming to rest on top of me. I get a brief peek at his eyes, which are turbulent and swirling with dark desire as he stares down at me, then he's crushing his mouth against mine in a brutal kiss that tastes like Bridger and me.

  We're like two horny teenagers at this point, our hands roaming roughly over each other's body. Bridger starts rocking against me. His cock is massive and emanates heat while he rubs it over my pussy. His fingers pinch and twist at my nipples. My hands go to his ass, and I try to press him harder against me, while we kiss and pant into each other's mouths.

  Finally, Bridger rears up, comes to his knees in a straddle above me, and looks blindly around for a moment before locating the condom he had thrown there earlier. His fingers frantically tear at the package and when he frees it, his tongue actually sticks out of the corner of his mouth in a look of pure concentration as he rolls it over his thick shaft.

  "Need to fuck you bad," he mutters, still watching his progress with the condom and once
he's fully sheathed, he pulls my legs up and spreads me wide. With a quick dip of his hips, the thick head pushes against my opening, and I suck in a huge lungful of oxygen in anticipation of what I'm betting is going to be an amazing experience.

  He's going to fuck me.

  He's not going to leave me.

  He really, really wants me.

  Bridger's eyes slide up my body and his look is tortured when it meets mine. "This might be a little rough," he grits out. "I'm sorry."

  Before I can say anything, he plunges all the way into me and my back arches off the bed as I moan my satisfaction out to the heavens.

  "Christ fuck, that feels good," Bridger groans.

  "So good," I agree as I tilt my head back to look at him. His gaze is so intent as he looks down at me before he drops his elbows to the mattress to press his stomach and lower part of his chest against me.

  He doesn't kiss me again, but merely stares at me almost in confusion as his hips start to move. He pulls out of me to the tip, pushing back in with a shocking force that causes me to grunt.

  Oh, God... that feels so damn good. I just don't think I can...

  Bridger's hips start moving fast, pumping his cock in and out of me. I can hear the sounds of wet skin sucking and slapping as he fucks me. He closes his eyes, biting down on his lower lip, and his face morphs into a beautiful visage of pure pleasure. It's so stunning in its transformation that I bring my hands to his cheeks to touch him. He moans at the touch but his eyes remain shut tight.

  God, he's incredible. Beautiful and strong and heroic.

  My hands slip to his temples, my fingers brushing through his soft hair. He makes a sound... of pleasure? Of protest? I can't decide, but his hips start moving faster and his cock is punching into me with abandon.

  My fingers curl inward, grabbing hunks of hair. He fucks me harder, hitting against a spot inside of me that starts another orgasm to brew. I can't help it. I pull on his hair, a silent urging to go even harder if he must because if feels that damn good.

  Bridger suddenly rears backward, pulling his dick all the way out of me and my hands dislodge from his hair so I don't rip it out as he puts distance between us.

  He kneels in between my spread legs and my pussy is aching over the loss of him inside me. He stares down at me with a mix of anger and bewilderment. "Don't pull my hair like that," he mutters almost to himself, but I know he's addressing me.

  "I'm sorry?" I ask in confusion.

  "Never mind," he growls. Then his hands are at my waist and he's flipping me over to my stomach. I can feel the bed dip as he scrambles off it, and then he's pulling me backward until my knees are resting right on the edge.

  I don't even have time to process the sudden change of positions or the pervasively uneasy feeling I have that I've disappointed him somehow before he's slamming back into me from behind. My pleasure is immediately reengaged as I groan from the fullness, and he starts to fuck me again.

  "Much better," Bridger groans as he tunnels in out and out of me, his breathing ragged and harsh. And yes... this feels amazing. Maybe not better, but just as good in a different way.

  But something about Bridger's tone sets me on edge, because I don't think he's talking about the way this feels different to our bodies.

  I crane my neck so I can get a look at his face. I need to know what's on his face so I can try to make sense of what feels to be a barrier between us now, but his large hand clamps on the back of my head and he stops me from turning. Then his fingers curl inward, grabbing a large hunk of my hair, and he holds me tight so I can't look at him.

  Something's wrong.

  I know it.

  I almost demand he stop and talk to me, but then he takes his other hand, slides it to my front, and then down between my legs. He starts to rub at my clit and mutters, "Want you to come again, Mags."

  Okay, that right there... he's fully engaged with me.

  He's back.

  And because his fingers are magic and his cock is overwhelming me from this new angle, I start to fall under a fog of lust again. I concentrate on the amazing feeling he produces within me, and my heart starts a triple-time beat. Air seems to be a precious commodity as I pant like a dog on a hot day, and I start to pull and push my body against his, making his cock go deeper into me.

  Bridger groans. "That's it, baby. Fuck me like I'm fucking you."

  His words titillate and thrill me, because it sounds like he needs me the way I need him.

  His fingers rub furiously against my clit, and he urges me in short, staccato bursts of words. "Come on. Mags. I'm close. Gotta come."

  Oh, this man... doesn't want to leave me behind and the knowledge he wants me to have the ultimate pleasure again before he does sets me off. I go still, my back bowing from the force of the orgasm that tears through me, and once again, I cry out, "Bridger."

  He pulls his hands from between my legs, confident my orgasm will continue to fire on its own, and puts both hands to my hips where he starts an all-out assault on my body. He lurches in and out of me, breath sounding like it's being ripped from his body, and then... he's suddenly gone.

  His cock is gone and the last tingles of my orgasm fall immediately flat. I swivel my head and my heart clenches when I see the look on his face.

  Pure agony and disgust.

  Bridger isn't looking at me though. He's looking down at his cock where he rips the condom off and starts jacking himself. Three quick pumps and he starts to come, thick, pearly jets shooting out and hitting me on my ass and lower back.

  Bridger head flies backward. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut as his hand flies over his shaft, viciously pulling and stroking... milking himself until every last drop is unloaded onto me.

  I'm stunned as I watch his hand slow down. He strokes a few more times, squeezing the head one last time to pull a few more drops out. He even flexes his hips and wipes those drops clinging to his dick right onto my ass. His eyes finally open as he looks down at his handiwork of painting my backside.

  Blank.

  His eyes are flat, empty, and blank as they stare down at my ass, and a sense of anxious dread starts to fill me. Finally, he gives a deep sigh of... relief? Or is that regret? I can't tell.

  Then his gaze slowly climbs up my body and locks with mine as I look at him from my position on my hands and knees. The cold flatness of his look melts away. He smiles at me sadly. "I'm going to get something to clean you up."

  He turns away and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

  No post-sex cuddles.

  No sweet words.

  No soft touches or affirmation of what we just shared.

  Just his cum on my back and ass now turning cold as the air flows over it, and I flop down to my stomach, incredibly confused and feeling utterly alone.

  After a few moments, I hear the toilet flush, and then the sink running. My body braces when the bathroom door opens and I tilt my head, resting my cheek on the pillow to watch Bridger as he comes out. His gaze immediately comes to mine as he walks toward the bed, a wet washcloth in his hand. I stay still as he climbs onto the bed, leaning on his haunches as he comes to rest beside my body. My eyes close as he gently takes the washcloth, which is coarse, but also warm, and wipes the evidence of our union from my skin.

  "All clean," he murmurs as he pulls it away and cool air immediately causes a chill to race up my spine. My eyes open and meet with his once again. No mistaking the look of contrition on his face, and I have to wonder what he feels sorry about.

  For fucking me?

  For being connected to me, not just physically but mentally, and then ripping it away from me mid-orgasm?

  "What was that?" I ask softly.

  His face is a mask of shrewd calculation as he looks at me. "It was sex."

  "But that's all it was?" I ask for clarification, already bracing for the answer I know is coming.

  "That's all it was," he confirms, and his eyes fall away... not able to meet mine as he lie
s to me.

  "No," I say firmly, pushing up to my knees and turning to face him. His gaze snaps back to mine with surprise. "It was less than sex."

  "Excuse me?" he growls.

  I scramble off the bed and bend down to my panties, tugging them on. Without looking at him, I grab my pants and put them on too. "Sex implies there's some level of intimacy between two people. And I think there was... to start. But then it became less than that. It wasn't anything more than a release for you by the time you finished."

  "Seems to me you got off too," he snaps as he rolls from the bed. "Three times as I recall."

  I don't even look at him though, gathering my top and shoving my arms through the sleeves. I don't take the time to bother buttoning it, just overlap the two sides of the opening over my breasts and wrap my arms protectively around myself to keep it closed.

  "That's right," I sneer at Bridger, my anger starting to bubble and froth at the way he's discounting my feelings. "Three orgasms that were amazing--until they weren't. The only thing I remember about that experience is the look of disdain you had for me when you jacked off onto my back."

  "Not for you," he growls as he stands before me naked and unabashed. "Not ever for you."

  "Then who?" I shout in frustration as I throw my arms wide, my pajama top falling open. To Bridger's credit, his eyes don't drift down to my breasts but hold me pinned in place.

  "For me," he says softly.

  I can't help it. The pain those words cause propel me across the carpet until I'm right before him, my palms to his cheeks. He flinches but never breaks eye contact as he stares down at me.

  "For you? Why?" I ask in bewilderment.

  His hands come up, take my own, and pull them away from his face. He cradles them gently when he says, "I don't come inside of a woman. Not ever."

  "I don't understand. Is that some kind of fetish or something? Like... I know it can be hot for a guy to come on a woman."

  He gives me a soft smile. "Yeah, that can totally be hot and I like that, but that's not what I mean."

  "What then?" I push at him, taking advantage of his willingness to open up to me.

  "Mags," he says, giving a squeeze to my hands. "You're a very sweet woman, and I don't want to hurt you. But I'm going to tell you something about myself that people only suspect about me."