Wicked Wish Read online

  Wicked Wish

  (The Wicked Horse Vegas Series)

  By

  Sawyer Bennett

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 by Sawyer Bennett

  EPUB Edition

  Published by Big Dog Books

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  ISBN: 978-1-940883-80-9

  Find Sawyer on the web!

  sawyerbennett.com

  twitter.com/bennettbooks

  facebook.com/bennettbooks

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  About Wicked Envy

  About the Author

  Foreword

  So, I have a toddler.

  A little girl.

  And we read every night.

  It’s my greatest hope that she inherits my love of reading. She doesn’t quite understand what Mommy does for a living, but she knows I write books. She’s pulled some from my shelf to look at my picture in the back.

  Now, if you’ve read me widely, you know I write in a variety of sub-genres when it comes to romance. I’ve done new adult, rom-com, sports romance, straight-up contemporary romance, sweet romance, and, of course, I’ve done erotic romance.

  If you’ve ready any of my Wicked Horse series, then you know this is my erotic series. You’ll also know that this series is not “erotica” as it sometimes gets referred to. The Wicked Horse books are romances with erotic sex scenes.

  Why am I even mentioning this?

  Because I do worry about how women who write this type of novel are perceived, and I worry about the perception of the women who read these works. Despite the many steps forward we’ve taken for women to be treated equally, it is somehow deemed wrong by the public for us to even consider reading *gasp* books with sex in them. Forget about it if they have erotic scenes.

  I hate this for my daughter. Of course, she’s not allowed to read these types of books until she’s of age, but I don’t want her to be ashamed Mommy writes it, and when she’s an adult, I don’t want her to be ashamed to read it.

  Sex is natural.

  Sex is fun.

  Sex can be thrilling, adventurous, and even scary sometimes when limits are pushed. The Wicked Horse books will make your eyebrows rise at times. You’ll probably blush and sometimes think, “Oh, people really do that type of thing?”

  Why, yes, they do.

  If you’re wondering if I’m writing from personal experience, I have to tell you I’m more well-read and researched than a practical-application kind of gal. Still, I find writing these books to be fun and liberating. They are a way to escape to another world, because that is the point of fiction.

  But the books in my Wicked Horse series are about more than sex.

  Far more than sex.

  There are complex characters you will love and hate. Plots with twists you didn’t see coming. Scenes that may have you laughing, and yes… some that will have you sobbing. Those are all the moments you’ll remember most about these books (but you will enjoy the sex scenes, too). This is why my books are not erotica. They are not designed for titillation to be the sole purpose. If that happens, so be it, but these are realistic love stories with realistic people, and as such, they are true romances.

  Bottom line… I hope you enjoy, and I hope you can do so in an open environment where you don’t have to be ashamed to enjoy sexy stories. In fact, feel free to open my book as you sit right next to someone on a plane, a train, or in the hair salon, and be proud that you enjoy reading these works.

  I know I sure as hell enjoy bringing them to you.

  Love,

  Sawyer

  CHAPTER 1

  Walsh

  “Walsh… buddy, good to see you,” Jerico Jameson says as I saunter into the Social Room of The Wicked Horse.

  We shake hands with a strong familiarity born from sharing a woman in bed or a good scotch at the end of an evening. Of course, that was all PT, or pre-Trista. Since then, his cock only fucks his woman, but he’s comfortable enough in his relationship that he’ll fuck Trista at the Wicked Horse sometimes.

  Not going to lie… I enjoy watching.

  “Anything special going on tonight?” I ask as I survey the crowd. I always come in late, usually no earlier than eleven. If I wait any longer than that, though, everyone’s pretty much worn themselves out for the type of fucking I like.

  The deviant, dirty, and often hard kind.

  “Same old.” Jerico grins as he rattles the ice cubes in his glass as he casually leans against the bar. Unless Trista’s here with him, he usually doesn’t venture from either the Social Room or his office.

  “I’ll make something good then.” With a laugh, I lift my chin to the bartender hovering nearby. He nods and turns to get me a bottled water. I don’t drink alcohol in here.

  Ever.

  Not because of any unpleasant experience, not because I don’t like the taste, and not because I’m against paying fifteen dollars for two fingers of house brand. Merely because I like feeling the things I do here with all of my senses.

  Alcohol loosens inhibitions. However, if my inhibitions were any looser, I’d be having kinky sex in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard in broad daylight. I like sex, and I don’t need to rely on anything to get me in the mood.

  But alcohol can also cut down on the feelings. Dull the nerves in my cock, slow my heart rate, and muddle my brain. If I’m going to belong to a sex club, I sure as shit don’t want to lose any of those functions.

  “How’s business?” Jerico asks as I wait for my water.

  “It’s Vegas and I own a thriving casino,” I say with a dry grin. “How do you think it’s going?”

  Jerico chuckles and nods in understanding, but then says, “I don’t get it. You’re one of the hottest bachelors in this town, so wealthy most think you’ve sold your soul to the devil, but then you’re here almost every night banging some anonymous chick. You’re at an age where you should be getting married and having babies.”

  I just shake my head and smirk. We’ve become pretty good friends over the last few years since this club opened, so he should know that’s a ludicrous statement to make about me. “Dude… just because you’ve found the perfect woman and want to spend all your little swimmers in the hopes of making babies doesn’t mean every man feels that way.”

  “Aren’t you worried about being alone when you’re old and decrepit?” Jerico jokes. “You’re what… thirty-five or so?”

  “Thirty-six.” I take the bottl
ed water from the bartender and push a twenty his way, telling him, “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks, Walsh,” the bartender says. No clue what his name is, but everyone knows my name here. Not only do I put on a good show for the other patrons to enjoy, but I also tip insanely well.

  Turning back to Jerico, I feel the need to defend my age and single status. “Besides… did the marriage routine once. Wasn’t all that great. And thirty-six is far from being on the verge of going into a nursing home.”

  “I hear ya, man,” Jerico says, and then looks at his watch. “I have to get going. I happen to have a hot-as-hell woman at home waiting for me.”

  “Have fun,” I say with a wink, then turn to walk toward the door that will lead me into a world of debauchery. I told Jerico to have fun, but honestly… fucking his honey on the bed missionary style is not my idea of fun. But more power to him.

  As I weave my way through the crowd, I’m stopped a few times by people wanting to chat. Some are men who want to be like me, and so they act like foolish puppies in their hero worship. Some are women wanting a taste of what I can offer.

  As many people who stop me, twice as many look away, not wanting to make eye contact. The men who do that are jealous because I get the pick of the women. The women who do it are terrified I might draw them in, and I’m a demanding son of a bitch when I decide to give you my cock. If a woman says “yes” to me, then she’d better be prepared for a wild and bumpy ride that could leave her sore and maybe even a bit bruised.

  I’m not every woman’s cup of tea.

  When I make it to the foyer on the other side of the Social Room, I hesitate for only a minute. I spent last night in the Silo, and I’ll be there tomorrow evening for the Masquerade opener. I’m not feeling the Orgy Room right now because I’m also feeling a bit selfish, and in that room, I tend to share the spoils.

  Nope. Tonight, I want a more laid-back atmosphere and I want a woman riding me, so I choose The Waterfall Room and turn left.

  When I enter, I don’t bother to appreciate the lavish decor of high-quality furniture and custom fabrics. I only take a moment to observe the woman lying on her back under the waterfall while some dude eats her out and the water cascades down on them.

  After a quick survey, I hone in on an empty couch beside the pool. I uncap my water as I stride there, not making eye contact with anyone. Once I take a swallow, I close the bottle and then set it on the table beside the couch. I undo my belt and pull it free, then unzip my jeans and pull my cock out.

  I keep one booted foot firmly on the floor and plant my other on the cushion as I lean back and start to stroke myself.

  It takes thirty seconds for a woman to approach me, and I lazily slide my eyes up to take her in. Blonde bombshell.

  Enough said.

  “Want a ride?” I ask, nodding toward my impressively large erection.

  She licks her lips and nods.

  “Get naked, then.”

  She does.

  When she starts toward the couch to presumably straddle me, I shake my head. “Get yourself wet for me.”

  “But I am,” she coos.

  I reach out with my free hand, push it between legs that spread wide for me, and brush my finger through her bare lips. “Nice piercing,” I comment as I brush against warmed metal. She’s got a stud above her clit.

  When I slip inside, she is indeed wet.

  “Feels good,” she moans.

  I pull my finger free and flick it against her piercing. Her hips buck.

  “Condom’s in my back pocket.” I continue to stroke myself.

  The blonde bends over, fantastically huge tits swaying with the motion right in front of my face, and my mouth waters slightly. I’m a total breast man, but, like I said… tonight, I’m feeling selfish.

  When she has the condom free of the wrapper, she doesn’t need any encouragement from me to put it on. I release my hold on my dick and concentrate on the sensation of her rolling it on.

  Making a slight adjustment on the couch, I hold my hand out to her and she takes it. When she has her knees planted beside my hips, she puts her hands on my shoulders for balance. Her eyes are shining brightly as she leans her face closer to mine.

  “Been waiting for you to notice me, Walsh,” she says breathlessly.

  I don’t point out that I didn’t notice her because that would just be mean, and I don’t get off on being cruel.

  “Can’t wait to have that hot cunt wrapped around me, baby,” I say, not bothering to ask her name because I don’t care what it is.

  But she takes the compliment and lets me guide my cock to her opening. When the tip is nestled in, I release my hold and lean back.

  “Go to town,” I encourage.

  And she does, sliding down on my shaft so swiftly I see the slight wince on her face as she burns from the stretch. My dick is just plain big.

  When she bottoms out on me, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, which is a sexy-as-fuck move on any woman, and starts to ride.

  I hold still, fighting the urge to grab her hips to fuck her hard from beneath. I love doing that to a woman; getting so much power into my upward thrusts I’ve almost tossed a woman or two off me before.

  But tonight, I’m going to let her do the work, because again… feeling selfish.

  And she’s good, too. Her toned thighs tell me she’s an excellent top rider, and she grinds her pussy down hard each time. I want desperately to play around with that stud above her clit, but I’d rather her get off on my cock alone.

  I can tell this is a woman who knows how to get it from cock alone, so I let her ride me hard.

  I concentrate on those tits bouncing, her little yips of pleasure, and sometimes moans of pain as I swell even bigger inside her.

  When she starts to come, she loses some momentum, so my hands come to her hips and I put a little effort into the game.

  I punch my hips up, squeezing my ass muscles hard at the apex, and let gravity pull me back out. In and out, up and down, driving into hot, wet pussy that’s got my balls starting to pull inward.

  One last powerful drive upward, and I clamp my teeth down and groan out my release. God, it’s fucking good.

  Never had a bad orgasm in my life, but this one is particularly good.

  The woman collapses on top of me, her fingers sifting through my dark shoulder-length hair. I let her lay like that for a moment until I feel myself start to soften, then I’m gently pushing her up and off.

  She sits on her haunches, a satisfied smirk on her face like she’s the only one who has rocked my world that way. I don’t disabuse her of that notion, though.

  “Want me to lick you clean?” she asks with a sexy purr, her hands pulling the condom off me.

  “No thanks, baby.” I gently pick her up and stand her on the floor. Pushing off the couch, I tuck myself into my pants. I pick up my belt and quickly put it back on.

  Reaching over, I grab my water bottle before planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “But you were amazing.”

  I turn around and leave the Waterfall Room.

  I don’t look back.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jorie

  I suck down the last of my wine and put my glass on the bar. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “Are you sure?” Elena asks.

  “Absofuckinglutely,” I reply, shoring up my resolve. “But you can’t watch me. That would just be too weird.”

  “You can watch me,” she says with a grin.

  “Even weirder,” I quip and loop my arm through hers.

  I let my best friend, Elena, talk me into spending five hundred dollars of money I have no right to spend on a sex club. But the money has been paid, I’ve had a few glasses of wine, and I need to prove to myself that I am adventurous when it comes to sex.

  You see… when your husband wants to separate because you’re a “little dull in bed,” it makes you want to do really bad things.

  I’d moved back home to Henderson, Nevada from Lo
s Angeles three weeks ago after Vince told me to leave our marital home. I’d like to say it was a complete shock, but it wasn’t. Things hadn’t been right between us for over a year. There was the fighting, which could get vicious because Vince doesn’t sugarcoat anything, and there were the hectic work schedules that exhausted me to the point I just wanted to drop into bed at the end of a twelve-hour workday. And yes, there was the fact it was just easier to lay on my back and let him bust a nut so I could just go to sleep, but I didn’t think those were things that would unilaterally lead him to call it quits.

  There was no discussion.

  Just a resounding “no” to my offer to go to counseling.

  Hell, I even offered to go to sex therapy with him, but he said he needed space to figure things out.

  God, I was confused, and pissed, and depressed, and when it became apparent he really wanted me to leave, it hit hard that my marriage was over.

  Elena, my best friend since childhood, was there for me with open arms. Her apartment door was open as well when I arrived with my tail tucked between my legs, a small U-Haul full of boxes that represented almost eight years of married life, and three suitcases. Elena was thrusting a set of keys in my hand before I even crossed the threshold, telling me we were going to be best roommates forever and ever.

  I had no family left in Henderson. My mom died during childbirth and my dad when I was seventeen, which meant my older brother Micah got custody of me for a little less than a year before I came of age. I left home at eighteen to go to college in Los Angeles, met and married Vince there, and made a home in sunny California.

  It was a little weird coming back to Nevada. Micah lived in San Francisco, and sure… I could have gone there to crash with him and he would have loved it. But I needed a woman to talk to. Someone like Elena who I could shamefully admit to that my husband just didn’t find me sexy or thrilling in bed, and that’s why he kicked me out.

  No way could I ever tell Micah that.

  For the past three weeks, Elena has let me live with her rent and obligation free of doing anything other than moping around. I told her all the dirty details of my fall from marital grace, and she assured me Vince was the one fucked in the head, not me.