The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series)

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Why Bridger?” she asks, her head tilted curiously to the side.

  “Because he’s one of the smartest dudes I know. Plus, he’s well connected. He’ll probably know something about this attorney who forced you out of the house. If not, maybe Woolf will. Do you mind if I tell them about this?”

  She doesn’t hesitate as she sticks the document back in her purse. “No, not at all.”

  “Okay, good then,” I say with a smile, reaching out and touching my hand to her shoulder, where I give a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get it figured out.”

  As I start to pull my hand away, I’m stopped by hers coming up to latch onto my wrist. Her grasp is delicate, barely touching me, but it holds such power. Cat steps into me, her soft brown eyes shining with gratitude. She goes to her tiptoes, which isn’t much more of a stretch given the sky-high heels she’s wearing, and leans into me. Placing her lips against my cheek, she kisses me just barely and pulls away. “Thank you, Rand. For everything.”

  Christ, she smells good. And that body is just inches from mine.

  She releases her hold, and my hand falls away from her shoulder. I want to grab her back to me and… what?

  Hug her? Fuck her? Tell her it will all be okay?

  Tell her to suck my dick?

  Please Cat, suck my dick?

  Instead, I turn away from her and walk behind the counter. “I probably won’t be home until really late tonight, so I guess I’ll see you then.”

  “Okay,” she says with a smile and starts to turn away.

  “Unless you’re coming to The Silo tonight?” I throw out, hoping my voice doesn’t sound anything more than casual.

  She gives a small shake of her head. “I don’t think so.”

  The weight of crushing disappointment hits me again. While I’ve firmly made up my mind I am not touching Cat while she’s at my apartment because I’ve invited her there out of friendship, I’d reasoned in my mind that she was still fair game at The Silo. I mean, if you walk in those doors, it means you want to fuck. No-strings-attached sex to be precise.

  Right?

  So, if Catherine Lyons were to walk into that door tonight, technically she would be fair game.

  I think.

  But that apparently isn’t happening.

  Chapter 4

  Cat

  I can’t believe I’m here.

  I promised myself I wasn’t coming back. Not after Rand found me sleeping in my car in the parking lot last night.

  Not ever again.

  Yet here I am, nervously smoothing down a simple black, form-fitting strapless dress as I stand outside the entrance door to The Silo.

  One of the most truthful things I’ve ever admitted to myself is that my feelings for The Silo are complicated. It’s a place I’ve loved and hated at different times.

  It’s made me feel beautiful and ugly.

  Needed and abhorred.

  Powerful and weak.

  The times I’ve felt good walking out those doors were fleeting, the buzz and adrenaline of great sex already a cold, distant memory. The lingering happiness that filled me from being desired and needed by others soon fizzling into nothingness.

  But those times I’ve felt bad walking out… those stuck with me a lot longer. Usually through a scalding hot shower to wash away the sweat of others, while I sat on the tiled floor and chanted over and over again that this was what I needed to do to survive.

  Oddly enough, The Silo helped me survive the sick perversion Samuel was intent on forcing me to endure. It was the lesser of two evils, and so I made sure I put on quite the show whenever my husband brought me here so he could watch me get fucked and debased because that made him happy. He watched with clouded eyes from his wheelchair, his mouth twisted into a feral grin, and I made sure he believed I loved every bit of it, because it was one of the few ways I could assert my independence from him. It was also how I could hurt him, if even only a tiny bit, because he’d much rather believe I hated it.

  Sadly, sometimes I did love every bit of it. My lips curve upward as I realize, many of those times involved Rand. He’s an amazing lover and he’s adventurous. He is wide and varied in his kink, and even if he wasn’t fucking me, I loved watching him get off with others.

  And that is the reason I’m here.

  Rand Bishop.

  A man I’ve fucked and sucked several times in the past.

  A man I am immensely attracted to.

  A man who has provided me unparalleled kindness in the last twenty-four hours.

  I want him, and I want him tonight. It has to be here because I get the sense he’s deemed me to be off limits in his apartment. He wouldn’t accept my body as payment to him for his generosity last night, but that’s not what The Silo is all about. It’s about people making free choices to get their rocks off in an environment with like-minded people. It’s about sex with no strings or expectations, and pleasure as the only end goal.

  Taking a deep breath, I reach into my little clutch purse and pull out my security fob. I punch the digital code it provides me into the wall panel, and the door unlocks with a soft click.

  The Silo is the brilliant brainchild of business partners Bridger Payne and Woolf Jennings, although Woolf recently sold out. It’s a round concrete building with a white-domed top that looks just like an authentic silo. It sits just off the back of Bridger’s nightclub, The Wicked Horse.

  While it might look like a colossal bin to store grain in from the outside, the inside is a massive round space with glass-walled rooms around the perimeter. It’s a sex club and all kinds of kinky, nasty, sexy stuff goes on inside this place. It’s a no-holds-barred type of club and anything goes as long as it’s consensual. Some of the things I’ve done in this club would make the devil blush.

  As I exit the short hallway that leads me to the center, I immediately spot Rand standing up at the round, black-lacquered bar that takes up the middle of The Silo. I ignore all the other activity around me as I’ve seen it before. Fully dressed couples mingle with cocktails in their hands. Naked couples in the glass-walled rooms, fucking in every way imaginable. It’s all almost passé to me, because I’ve not only seen it all, I’ve done it all.

  Just last week, I let Bridger lock me in a stockade, effectively securing me around the neck and wrists, and then I invited several men to fuck me. Pussy, ass, mouth… didn’t matter. Luckily, it was one of those nights that was a good one. I enjoyed it. I came several times, and when I walked out, I didn’t feel degraded. That’s because it was my choice to be there, not Samuel’s, and I did what I wanted. I also called a stop to it all when I was done. And trust me, after the seventh guy, I was done because I was sore and my neck ached. My wishes were immediately granted, and I was treated with kindness and reverence by the men around me. Bridger was there to cover my body with a robe and lead me off to the bathroom where I could get cleaned up and dressed in privacy.

  Yeah, that was a good night.

  I’m hoping tonight will be better.

  As I take in Rand, I see he’s wearing the same clothes he had on at the tattoo shop today. Faded jeans with a small rip in one knee, a thick, black leather belt, and a black Rage Against The Machine t-shirt that fits his chest extraordinarily well. His blond hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back in what I recognize as a habit now, causing me to smile.

  He’s talking to a woman, and I take a moment to size her up. I don’t think I’ve seen her in here before, but honestly, I don’t pay much attention to the women. I like cock, so the women never interested me much. Although one time, Bridger strapped me to the St. Andrew’s cross and invited people to come in and eat my pussy. A procession of men took up his challenge, except one lone woman who came in as well. I don’t remember much about her other than her lips were so soft, and frankly, she worked my clit better than any man ever has before. I’m going to have to assume she was a lesbian and damn… she really knew what she was doing.

  The woman Rand is talking to is p
retty. Very pretty, actually, with caramel-colored hair streaked with golden highlights. Her skin is tanned and she looks to be about my age. I immediately figure either she’s a bartender from The Wicked Horse with a limited membership here, or she’s a lot like me… here with a rich sugar daddy of some sort.

  Rand doesn’t look away from her. He seems to be totally interested in what she’s saying, which I can tell is something flirty by the way she’s standing in close to him and holding her drink so that her cleavage is squeezed for maximum display. She even leans in closer, goes up on tiptoes, and whispers something in his ear while resting a hand on his chest. My fingers curl inward, balling to tight fists when I see his hand drop to her hip. His fingers splay wide and while he does nothing more than grip her there, he does nothing to dissuade her from stepping in closer until her breasts brush against him.

  I don’t hesitate a second. I walk through the minglers, sidestepping and nodding greetings here and there. I’m well known and get smiles from everyone. When I reach Rand and the woman I don’t know, he turns to look at me, his eyebrows rising first in surprise, then with a welcome smile on his lips. His eyes roam down my body, lighting up with appreciation. It makes me immensely happy to see his hand fall from the woman’s hip.

  She also turns to me, her lip curling in disdain while she shoots daggers at me from her eyes. I don’t spare her another glance. Instead, I reach for Rand’s hand that is closest to me. His fingers immediately thread with mine and he tilts his head in question.

  “Let’s fuck,” I murmur, turning to start pulling him away from the woman.

  He doesn’t hesitate in the slightest, and I try hard not to laugh as the girl makes a loud sound of disgruntlement that she’s being left so abruptly by a man she clearly had her sights set on.

  I lead Rand back across The Silo, down the short hall that heads back toward the door I had just entered in through. But rather than leave, I turn right into the hallway that runs the perimeter of the round building, behind the glass-walled rooms. Rand follows behind, his hand holding mine tightly, but not saying a single word to me. He doesn’t need to say anything, but I know he’s feeling what I’m feeling. The sexual tension is so thick that I can feel it coating my exposed skin like a blanket.

  “Which room do you want?” I ask as I walk in front of him, my hips swaying provocatively. I know… can just feel those green eyes pinned to my ass. “The black room… we can fuck on a bed of black silk and that woman you just left behind can watch your cock sliding in and out of me?”

  Rand doesn’t say anything, but I know if I were to let go of his hand and reach backward, I’d find him hard as a rock.

  “Or how about one of the rooms where you can restrain me? Maybe the St. Andrew’s cross, or even the stockade. Lock me up and do what you want to me.”

  I think I hear a low growl of need in Rand’s chest, and it fills me with euphoria that he wants me so badly.

  “Or maybe one of the rooms with toys,” I suggest silkily as we walk slowly along. “So many things you could do to make me come with toys.”

  Rand moves so quickly, I give a startled yelp of surprise. His hands come to my shoulders and he spins me toward the outer wall, which is nothing but cold, gray concrete staves. I open my mouth to say what, I don’t know, but then his tongue is twirling against mine while he presses me back into the wall.

  And I can’t recall… has Rand ever kissed me before? I’m not sure. I think I’d remember something like this… so possessive and animalistic. Necessary. That’s what it feels like… absolutely needful to him.

  We may have fucked before, but I don’t recall kissing him, so I’m thinking we haven’t. Such a personal act and one I don’t do often. Usually it’s because a man wants it and I oblige, no biggie.

  But this kiss with Rand?

  It causes my legs to go weak and my heart to skitter out of control. It makes me want to sag in relief over the warm feelings it produces in me, and I want nothing more than to stand in this hallway with Rand and just make out with him all night long. I think I’d be completely satisfied with just kissing him. It’s that damn good.

  Yet, he has other ideas. Pulling his mouth away just enough to growl against my lips, he says, “None of the rooms. Gonna fuck you right here… keep you all to myself.”

  He gives me no opportunity to respond because he steals my breath away with another fast but deep kiss before he’s jerking my skirt up around my hips and then my panties down my legs. Squatting before me, he taps against the outside of my right ankle. I raise it so he can slip that leg free.

  “Other leg,” he mutters. I lift that one, and then he’s standing up with my panties in his hand. He orders me, “Get my cock out, Cat.”

  I don’t hesitate. I work his belt buckle with expert hands, only stumbling once when he pushes a hand between my legs and drags a finger between my folds. I can feel how ridiculously wet I am, but that was a given. Rand’s take-charge ways are turning me on like nothing else ever has.

  When I get his belt freed and his zipper down, I push at the jeans a bit until his thick cock comes in to view. I reach my hand in, circle it around the girth, and gently pull it free. I’m confident this didn’t hurt him and that the hiss of air that rushes through his teeth is merely because my hand on him feels good.

  I want him to feel better so I start to stroke him, causing Rand to groan in response and his body to stiffen all over with trembling need.

  “Enough,” he says gruffly, pulling my hand away. “Now open your mouth.”

  I grin for a moment before I open my mouth, expecting him to push me to my knees so I can suck on that beautiful hardness sticking straight out between us, but he surprises me when he shoves my panties in instead. My eyes flare wide with shock as he gives me a devilish grin. “Don’t want anyone to hear you scream. Don’t feel like sharing this tonight.”

  He doesn’t want to share me tonight? Meaning he doesn’t want anyone else to watch?

  And yeah… he stopped me in the darkened hallway lit only with soft sconces and relative privacy unless someone decides to go in or out of the rooms. Good chance that will happen, so I know Rand doesn’t have complete expectation we won’t get caught, but it makes me even wetter knowing he wants something with me that I’ve never given another man here in this building.

  Just myself.

  I hum in my throat, letting him know I approve of his methods, and he doesn’t waste any time. He bends his knees, pushes his hands between my thighs from the front, and lifts me. As he extends his arms wide, my legs spread obscenely before him and Rand gazes longingly at my pussy. I don’t look down at what he’s looking at but rather at his face, watching the way he licks his lips.

  “Guide me in, baby,” he whispers hoarsely, still never taking his eyes away. I circle a hand around his dick, feel it jump in response to my touch. Then, along with a flex of Rand’s hips, guide the tip right to my entrance.

  The fat head of his cock pushes into my slickness easily before meeting with some resistance. The only foreplay we had was dirty words, so even though I’m wet, I’m not relaxed. In fact, I feel strung tight with tension and need, and even though I know that first push is going to sting, I want it so bad my mouth waters, which is immediately soaked up by my panties.

  Rand finally lifts his gaze as his hands tighten their grip under my thighs. He has me firmly in his hold and his cock is wedged in just the right place, so I let the base of it go and bring my hands to his shoulders for leverage.

  Our eyes lock together. We just stare for a brutally clear moment where nothing else exists but a man who wants a woman, and vice versa. There is no sex club and nothing overly kinky about what we’re doing.

  Just a man and a woman who want each other with a raging passion.

  Rand gives me a smile before leaning his head toward me, tilting slightly, and placing a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth. I moan against the panties because the gentleness of that move touches me.

  When he lif
ts his head and looks at me again, there’s a possessiveness in his eyes now that I’ve never seen before in my life. Not from any man before who has claimed my body and certainly never from my husband. It’s a look I didn’t know existed until this very moment, and once I realize what it is, Rand takes it upon himself to thrust into me hard.

  My head falls back, and I groan against the invasion. The sting, and then the melting of my pussy around him. He doesn’t even give me a moment to adjust, just starts thrusting in and out of me with bruising force. He’s a large guy, thick and long, and he hits that spot deep within me that makes my toes curl and my eyes threaten to roll into the back of my head.

  “Look at me, Cat,” Rand demands of me.

  It takes all of my effort to raise my head up so I can comply.

  His eyes glow with that same possessiveness and now a spark of triumph as he pounds into me, every punch of his cock into my pussy bringing me closer and closer to orgasm.

  “Feel good?” he asks, although he knows I can’t answer. So I smile at him with my eyes and nod my head.

  “Yeah… feels damn good,” he mutters and thrusts faster. “Always loved fucking this pussy. Dream about this pussy. Jack off to thoughts of this pussy.”

  Oh, damn… those filthy words and his hips slapping against me rhythmically while he holds my gaze the entire time make me feel in this moment that Rand Bishop owns every part of me. Surprisingly, I’m okay with that.

  Samuel once told me he owned me and that he could do whatever he wanted with me. And he was right about that. I hated him and his ownership.

  But not this with Rand.

  If he can make my body feel this good and make me feel this needed, then I’ll sign away the rights and title to my body right now.

  My orgasm catches me off guard and bursts within me after a brutally hard thrust deep into my body. My muscles clench and grab onto his cock, rippling with pleasure around him and causing Rand to finally lose eye contact with me. His eyes flutter closed and he thrusts into me one more time before going still and muttering in staccato bursts, “Coming. So. Fucking. Hard.”