by KB Winters
I hated that goddamn dream, and I hated even more that I didn’t wake up until I was standing there over her dead body parts.
And the thing I hated the most was the hangover the next morning. At least I didn’t have a long commute to Hardtail. I knew this land better than anyone. The first owner bought it about two weeks before I received my discharge papers from the Army, hired me on to tend his horses and cattle as soon as I came back.
The second owner gifted me some acreage at the south end of the property, and I built myself a little cabin. It wasn’t much, a master bedroom and bath, a guest room and bath, a kitchen big enough to eat in, and a living room with a fireplace, but it was all mine. It was home.
And it was time for me to face the music, so I showered and dressed, choosing to delay coffee in favor of Martha’s dark roast over at the big house. As soon as I stepped inside the kitchen, Peaches shoved a big mug in my hand.
“Morning!” she shouted with a wicked grin.
“Thanks for that.” Yeah, if she was pissed, then Gunnar was pissed.
“Here you go, Holden.” Martha handed me a plate piled high with biscuits, ham, and onions, and her special strawberry jam.
“Thanks, Martha. Nothin’ better than your biscuits.” She smiled and blushed before turning away, muttering something about charming cowboys.
“You were drunk last night.” Gunnar didn’t waste time with niceties, and the expression on his face could only be described as thunderous.
“I was, and I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough, Holden. Fuck! You know what kind of people our members are.”
Yeah, I did. Rich and powerful people who liked to keep their kink on the down low. They paid big bucks for their privacy and a certain environment, which I understood. But . . .
“I know. It’s no excuse, but I ran into someone from my past that I wish I hadn’t, and it got to me. More than it should.”
“Good,” he said with a grim smile, “because you’re working the bar again tonight just to prove to me you can.”
Asshole. “That’s bullshit, Gunnar.”
“You wanted a plan. You got one.”
Now I was pissed. “So this is what, revenge? That’s bullshit, and you know it. Can you or any of the other guys handle the ranch duties without me? Who’s gonna do all the chores that didn’t get done this morning because I didn’t get to bed until after three? Who’s gonna do ’em tomorrow? Or did you hire an assistant like I asked you to six months ago?”
I didn’t mind doing my part to help out at The Barn Door. Okay, I did mind, but I did that shit anyway because I gave my word and because it was lucrative as hell, but ranching was my thing. It was in my blood.
“If you weren’t hungover you might have gotten up this morning.” It was a weak argument, and even he knew it.
“With two goddamn hours of sleep? You try it and tell me how it goes. Anyone can work the fucking bar, and you know it. Not everyone can handle the cattle, never mind the horses. Especially Lady Mayhem.”
Not even Gunnar had been able to tame the black Arabian who didn’t like anyone but me.
“Then I guess you’ll do your job tonight without the aid of Senor Patron.”
Peaches snickered, and I glared at her, which only made her laugh harder.
“What the fuck ever.” I stood and stacked what was left of the ham and onions into the last two biscuits, wrapped them in a napkin, refilled my coffee into a thermos and got the fuck on with my day.
Chapter Four
Aspen
“Don’t be so uptight about it, babe.” Ken stood in front of me wearing nothing but a pair of black and white polka dot briefs, a chub straining against the material as he thrust his hips in my direction. “Didn’t you have fun last night?”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you think I had fun, Ken?”
Truthfully, my efforts at finding my own fun had fallen flat. Maybe I just wasn’t as adventurous as I’d been in my twenties, or maybe I was just a bit more discerning. Whatever the reason, I ended up drinking more than I should have and watched the way people interacted with an interest I’d never had before.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Aspen, did you?”
“You did, and that’s what matters, right?” I stood so his cock wasn’t right in my face because there was no way in hell he was getting a blow job after asking me to go to a sex club again so he could fuck other women.
“It’s not all that matters.” He put a hand on my shoulder and rubbed it, a move that felt more like my old Uncle Milt than a lover.
“If you want, we can start the night off with a devil’s threesome. You could take some dude’s cock while I fuck you from behind. It could be real hot, babe.”
Real hot, my ass. But was there really any point in arguing when I only had two choices. Trust him and let him go alone? Or tag along and make sure he didn’t go too far over the line? What the fuck was too far over the line, anyway? Non-committal sex was better than him sneaking out and fucking around behind my back.
Wasn’t it?
Was it?
Just then, a pair of killer blue-almost-black eyes flashed in my mind, that same hint of familiarity hovering in the back of my memories. I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe that hunk was working tonight, and maybe he’d be my key to a little fun. If I could go through with it.
“Maybe I’ll find my own fun, Ken.”
His face lit up as my words registered. Any of the things a girlfriend should feel at the moment—disappointment, rage, hurt, self-consciousness—I didn’t feel. All I felt was an odd sense of relief. And apprehension.
Ken felt none of those things. His face lit up, and he said, “Excellent! Shower quickie before we head out?”
A half-throb pulsed between my thighs. Enough to tell me I needed to get laid but not enough to work up the energy Ken’s ego required lately. “You gonna make sure we both get off?”
“You know, Aspen, you’re a fucking prude for someone who looks like a Barbie.”
With an angry growl, he stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. A few seconds later, the shower sounded.
I shrugged to myself and thought, why am I with this asshole, anyway?
Ninety minutes later we entered the club, but tonight they featured a Heavenly Bodies theme, so said the doorman as he smacked the invisible stamp on the inside of my wrist. Unlike last night, they’d transformed the place into some kind of erotic celestial land, different shades of white in every imaginable fabric from silk to cotton to wool covering every surface and hanging from the ceiling. It was beautiful.
Sensual. And instead of the pulsing Latin beat, they had slow R&B music, the kind even kids in Texas played during first kisses, games of spin the bottle, and later, in the back of pickup trucks. Just below the music, I swear there was the sound of a man and woman moaning. Erotically.
“Gonna hit the head, babe. Be back soon.” Ken smacked an absent kiss to my cheek and headed off, letting his hands and body graze against every woman he passed as he made his way downstairs. To the rooms.
But I wasn’t in the mood to be in a bad mood. Not yet. So I shrugged off my annoyance, enjoyed the hot gyrating bodies, and even the not so hot ones, and made my way to the bar. Where, sweet Lord yes, the big man with the unforgettable blue eyes mixed the hell out of something in a silver cocktail shaker.
His biceps were big. No, they were huge, bending and flexing with every move. It was impossible to look away, and I didn’t bother to hide my open ogling. This was a sex club, for crying out loud. People showed up in lingerie that hid nothing, so a little bit of ogling was fine.
After pushing my way through the crowd of groping hands, I finally made my way up to the bar, just a foot and a half of polished wood separated us. But he was either oblivious to my presence or ignoring me in favor of the drink order he handled quickly. And coldly. It gave me more time to examine him, to explore him.
My eyes roamed over his broad shoulders, strong ar
ms, and wide chest. Gorgeous for sure, but not all that different from any other Texas cowboy. It was that smooth, sun-kissed skin and those almost haunting blue eyes that called out to me from my past. I jogged my memory for how I could know him, coming up with at least a dozen sets of eyes I’d rather forget permanently before I found it.
Found him, rather.
Holden Jennings. The only boy I’d ever had a serious crush on in high school. The one I never got to date. Not that I didn’t get the opportunity, I did. It was just after high school graduation when he approached me. I was with my best friends Regina and Amber Leigh. Daddy was away on some big horse event, and Mama had gone with him even though it was my high school graduation. They’d left me a shiny red Mustang, though, so I guessed that was good enough.
Holden had grown into his shoulders since the last time I’d seen him. Back then he’d been all long arms and legs, and he wore a nervous smile as he approached in his dark jeans, cowboy boots, fancy shirt, and bolo tie. He’d opened his mouth, flashed that killer smile, and asked me out.
But I let peer pressure get to me, the sound of Amber Leigh snickering behind me, and Regina whispering that he was poor, which was a joke. His family wasn’t poor. They just weren’t as wealthy as mine. Turning him down was still one of my biggest regrets, and why I assumed the universe was punishing me with guys like Ken.
But now that I knew it was Holden, I had to say something. Didn’t I? I mean, what were the odds that I’d run into my high school crush so far from Vance, and after all these years? When he was done handing over the final drink, I leaned forward with my most charming smile. “Holden Jennings, right?”
The dark look he gave me said maybe he remembered me too.
Shit.
Chapter Five
Holden
Lord give me the strength. That was as far as I got in making a deal with the universe before Aspen leaned over the bar and right into my line of sight.
“Holden Jennings, right?” As if she didn’t know who I was, the flash of guilt in her smile told the truth.
Tonight she wore a dress that showed off a lot of skin but revealed nothing about her. A deep red color that matched her lips, long see-through sleeves, the dress barely hit mid-thigh, but the front and back of the dress held deep vees that made a man’s fingers itch to touch, his mouth water to taste.
Not me, but most men. At least the ones who didn’t know her.
“What can I get you to drink?” I gave her a bored look and waited before adding, “Absinthe cocktails are half off tonight.”
“It is. Oh my God, Holden Jennings, it is you. It’s me, Aspen Holt.” Her pale blue eyes looked almost clear tonight, but they wore that same queen of the universe certainty they always held. She was so sure I’d remember her, but not just remember her, also that I’d be thrilled to see her again.
After how she treated me, I wasn’t thrilled at all.
“About that drink? You’re not the only customer in this joint, lady. Aspen,” I corrected with enough acid in my voice to let her know, yeah I remembered her. As if I could ever forget that she was responsible for one of the most humiliating moments of my life. It was high school, ages ago, I know, and I should get over it. Hell, I was over it, but seeing her in my face pretending like none of it happened was enough to drive a man to drink. Only this man couldn’t drink until he was off the clock.
Her confidence had slipped, but I estimated it was still at about eighty percent since she hadn’t given up and gone down to Hazel’s end of the bar.
“I’ll have something with absinthe and bourbon.”
Aspen had been a girl who knew her place in the world, and she was comfortable with everything it had afforded her, including beauty, wealth, and privilege. What was more, back then she’d been convinced she deserved it. I always wondered if she thought she deserved it because she was somehow special.
I didn’t give much of a damn when it came to the woman in front of me. “Coming right up,” I said and grabbed a glass I gave it an absinthe rinse the way Hazel showed me earlier and went about making the drink. I’d have to tell her later she was right about the absinthe. The stuff tasted vile to me, but everyone had been taking advantage of the deal.
“Do you remember me? Last night I wasn’t sure how I knew you, but your eyes were familiar. I never forget a pair.”
I snorted at what was clearly a line. She either had a selective memory, or she was hoping I forgot. “You don’t have to bullshit me, sweetheart. It ain’t required to make you a drink.”
She sucked in a breath, offended or outraged, maybe a bit of both. “I’m just trying to have a conversation.” She sounded so reasonable that to anyone listening, I’d come across like a real asshole.
Well, good, because I was a real asshole. “Is that right, Ms. Aspen Holt?”
“It is.” She tilted her chin in the air defiantly, but I caught the tremble in her bottom lip and that flash of uncertainty in her eyes.
“Why would I want to talk to the woman when the girl I knew was such a bitch?”
She at least had the grace to flush with guilt. Or maybe anger at being called out. “Look, I’m sorry about that, but if—”
“This cocktail is right up your alley, Aspen. It’s called The Billionaire.” My words cut her off, and I slid the drink across the bar with more force than I meant to. “Enjoy.”
I turned to walk away, but her words stopped me. “You won’t even let me explain?”
I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. I turned and looked at Aspen straight on. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, only now there was a bit of wisdom and cynicism that spoke of a life that hadn’t gone as perfectly as she expected. It made her more beautiful if I was honest. Which is why I couldn’t indulge myself like this with her.
“Nope. Your boyfriend seems to be looking for you. Better hurry. He seems like the type to get easily distracted.”
I didn’t bother telling her this wasn’t the second time he’d come to the club because it wasn’t my business.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
I grinned. “No, I didn’t. So I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. Ma’am.” I gave her an imaginary tip of my invisible hat, and with a groan, she snatched her glass and walked away. I stood there and enjoyed the view. Her legs looked spectacular in red fuck-me heels. They made her ass look like it was still high and round. It was too bad they belonged to her because those were exactly the kind of legs I enjoyed wrapped around my waist, my shoulders, or straight up in the air. Heels on.
“Enjoy your evenin’,” I called after her, feeling satisfied when her steps faltered.
Chapter Six
Aspen
Holy shit. The drink Holden made was strong! It was good but so strong that my legs already felt a little wobbly as I stumbled my way through the crowd toward Ken, who was really looking for me. Even my clumsy steps didn’t stop me from sucking back more of the cocktail, but I needed to get away from Holden. He’d been such a sweet boy back when I knew him.
Clearly, that guy was long gone.
It was too bad because I had such a huge crush on him in high school. And unlike all the other boys, he didn’t fawn over me. No, Holden Jennings wasn’t the fawning type. He was a typical, quiet cowboy, but he looked. A lot. And I always felt like he’d seen me, and I wanted him to see more. But when I had my chance, I blew it. I let my friends convince me that the high school pecking order mattered after we got our diplomas. What a stupid girl I was.
Was? My conscience would have laughed at that. Being with Ken, and here with him to boot, proved I was still that same stupid girl, doing the wrong thing for no good reason.
By the time I made it to the staircase that led to the playrooms downstairs, Ken had disappeared, and I couldn’t find one ounce of disappointment about it. Fuck Ken, I decided. He could go and do what he would do, whether I wanted him to or not.
Why the hell shouldn’t I do the same? Or at least maybe flirt a littl
e with a few of the beautiful people in attendance tonight. Still, it didn’t feel completely right, so I decided to find Ken first. Maybe this place would make things feel good again if we did it together.
Maybe we’d let someone watch.
Maybe.
I started with the rooms from the previous night, thinking he might have gone back there since he had some luck. Of course, Ken was never satisfied with the same anything. He liked to change it up and often, so I went to the opposite end of the hallway and started there.
First, I found the room dedicated to bondage. Though full, Ken wasn’t among the men bent over, tied up, or whipping a willing partner. He wasn’t even among the half a dozen or more men watching from the sidelines, cocks in their hands, stroking to the action.
Only one couple occupied the dungeon room, each of them focused intensely on nothing but one another and their pleasure. They seemed oblivious to the onlookers inside the room, hidden in the darkness, watching as he fastened metal clamps to her nipples. My nipples hardened in response.
When he fixed a clamp on her clit, the tiniest gasp of pleasure sounded in the room followed by several ecstatic groans. The couple made the most erotic picture; hell it was almost romantic, the way the man’s eyes feasted on the woman. Every breath she took, every sound she made, he was perfectly aware of what she needed. What she wanted.
Fuck. I would’ve loved to give up control like that. My pussy throbbed, and I stood there and watched. Drenched.
Eventually, I moved on after realizing that the couple was serious about prolonging the pleasure. Like they were building up to something ethereal. Fifteen minutes later and no one but the onlookers were close to orgasm, so I moved on. To the orgy room.
Maybe I’d be adventurous for an ass-fucking.
It was a big room, at least double the size of all the other playrooms, enough that at least three orgies were happening at once. The left corner of the room looked like an expensive living room apartment paneled off to three sections. The largest section was a lavishly appointed bedroom, and the front area was dressed up as a backyard. No less than five people were in each room, as many as eight in the living room, all naked, with mouths and cocks and pussies and tits bare and exposed for the sole benefit of pleasure.
