Wicked Lust (The Wicked Horse #2) Page 10

  “Doing what?” he asks with surprise.

  “Asking me to spend the day with you,” I say with a small degree of skepticism. “I thought what we had was just sexual.”

  “Who says I’m not going to fuck you at the Double J?” he asks with a mischievous smile.

  “Because this is just sex, right?” I ask him for clarification, not giving into his amusement.

  The smile slides off Cain’s face and his eyes sober. Batting my hand away from his dick, he steps in closer to me, leans his face down to compensate for the difference in our height, and murmurs, “Not just sex, Sloane. Fucking amazing sex. Mind-blowing sex. Trust me when I say I’m coming back for more of it.”

  My heart instantly pangs with hurt that he doesn’t feel a connection like I thought, but then it becomes immediately relieved when I realize I can just concentrate on my job and use Cain to my advantage.

  But then he causes another sharp stab of emotion when he touches his mouth to mine briefly before saying, “But that’s not what today is. I figured you’d like to see some of Wyoming and there’s no prettier place than the Double J. I only have to do a few things for Woolf, and then I can take you out horseback riding.”

  Shit.

  Damn, shit, damn, shit.

  I might have doubted myself before now, but the minute he says those words and I realize there’s more to Cain Bonham than just unbelievable orgasms, I know I’ve got some major feelings twisted into this. Otherwise, the excitement of spending some time with this complex man wouldn’t be warring so hard with the guilt I’m feeling for the way in which I’ll ultimately take advantage of him.

  Chapter 13

  Cain

  “You’re awful quiet,” I say as our horses plod alongside each other.

  Sloane turns that beautiful face… one I always think of as sweetly innocent… and gives me a smile so bright it almost hurts to look at it. Those two dimples fascinate me because they do the weirdest thing and make me want to smile back at her just as big.

  “It’s just so beautiful,” she says as her face turns back toward the Teton mountain range. “I mean… our mountains in Tennessee are lovely, but these are incomparable.”

  True enough. On this bright summer day, the riot of colors on the range is stunning. Deep green grass and trees, slate blue rock formations, and snowy white peaks. I’ll never get tired of it.

  Sloane hung out at the barn while I did some minor repairs on one of the stall doors. It wasn’t an urgently needed fix, but Woolf always throws work my way when he can and I’m appreciative of that. It took no more than an hour of my time and then I got two horses saddled. Because Sloane was an inexperienced rider, I put her on the fattest, laziest horse in Woolf’s stock and assured her she wouldn’t move faster than a snail. She was nervous at first but once she realized this was just a relaxing ride over some well-worn trails, she gave over to the thrill of the scenery and I think forgot she was on a horse, despite the fact she was still clutching the horn as if her life depended on it.

  “So… you’re like a cowboy or something?” Sloane asks out of the blue, her eyes still set on the mountain range ahead of us.

  “The Double J employs a lot of people. I worked through high school here and part time in between other jobs.”

  “And you were in the Marines, huh?”

  “The tattoo’s kind of obvious, right?” I chuckle.

  “It does kind of stare me right in the face when you’re on top of me,” she says primly, and my chuckle turns into an outright laugh.

  She’d be right about that. In a moment of pure stupidity when I was eighteen and had just graduated boot camp, me and my buddies went out and got tattoos to display our pride in being Marines. I opted for a devil dog on my right pec. A tough-looking bulldog with a severe underbite and a Marine Corps collar around its thick neck. It glared out from my chest with the letters U.S.M.C. tattooed underneath in red and gold.

  “I was in for six years and admittedly, that tattoo was a mistake,” I tell her.

  “What did you do in the Marines?”

  “Infantry,” I tell her simply. “It’s why I ended up back here in Wyoming after I got out. Not a lot of transferrable skills in that MOS.”

  “MOS?”

  “Sorry,” I tell her as I tug on the reins slightly to move my horse closer to hers. “Military Occupational Specialty. I was 0351… an assaultman. I basically operated an anti-tank weapon.”

  “Were you in Afghanistan?” she asks, her gaze now coming to mine with somber curiosity.

  “Twice.”

  “Is that how you got your scar?” she asks, and I blink at her in surprise. No woman I’ve been with has ever asked me that question. Granted… it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date with one, and granted… most times I’m just giving a hard fucking to someone over at The Silo and there’s no opportunity for questions, but the simple way in which she asks catches me off guard. It’s not with a morbid curiosity, but rather a desire to know me better. I can see in her eyes the truth of that because she doesn’t drop her gaze from mine.

  Shaking my head, I tell her, “Afraid it’s not that glamorous of a story. I was working at a bar over in Idaho. A jealous husband came in looking for his wife. Tried to drag her out by the hair. I took exception to it, and he took exception to me taking exception to it. He got me with a broken beer bottle.”

  “Holy crap,” she says with her jaw hanging low. “Was he arrested?”

  “Nope,” I tell her with a smirk. “But I kicked his ass after that. I was satisfied with the outcome.”

  “You’re such a badass,” she says with a giggle and fuck… but I love that sound. So young, carefree… makes me want to turn that giggle into a moan of lust-filled passion. That’s probably not going to happen out here, so I’ll settle for a blush.

  “You know what I should have done?” I say as I reach out to grab the reins of her horse, right near the bridle so I can bring it to a halt with me.

  She turns slightly in her saddle to look at me, both hands still clutching hard on the horn. “What’s that?”

  “I should have loaded your ass up with the plug before I put you on that horse. Do you know how good that would have felt with you rocking against that saddle?”

  Sloane’s face goes beet red, which causes me to grin at her, and she shakes her head no. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t have let you do that.”

  “You would have,” I confidently say.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” she argues.

  “You’d let me fuck you right now if I pulled you off that horse and threw you down in that patch of wildflowers,” I tell her as I nod toward the ground, hoping to make that blush go brighter.

  “Not going to happen,” she says firmly. “We’re out in the open. Anyone could see us.”

  “We’re miles away from anyone,” I counter.

  “The moose might see us, or a bear could sneak up on us,” she sniffs.

  Winking at her, I say, “You have a point. I don’t think I could battle a moose or bear for you.”

  Releasing my hold on her horse, I kick my heels in, give a cluck, and urge my horse to walk again. Because Sloan’s horse is also dumb in addition to being fat and lazy, it follows along without a second thought.

  “I have Tuesday night off,” I tell her offhandedly, hoping this sounds casual. “Interested in hanging with me?”

  “Like a date?” she asks with wide eyes.

  Hmmmm. Not sure setting up multiple men to fuck her as a surprise is a date, but sure, why not? “Yeah… something like that.”

  “Sounds great.” Her smile pops with those dimples again.

  Fuck, they kill me.

  “You work an awful lot,” she says in contemplation. “Is that par for the course?”

  “Pretty much,” I say simply as I scan the area, looking for a place we can stop for a bit. She says she won’t let me fuck her out here, but I’m betting I can get her to change her mind. And it’s her own fault really… fla
shing those dimples at me.

  I pull my horse to a halt and dismount. Dropping the reins to the ground, knowing the horse isn’t going anywhere, I walk to Sloane’s horse and hold my hand up to help her off.

  “Why are we stopping?” She looks down at me with uncertainty, her hands still gripping the horn hard with reins trapped in between. Fucking adorable.

  “Just giving the horses a bit of a break,” I lie smoothly to her.

  She accepts what I tell her and releases her grip on the saddle. Ignoring my hand, she swings her leg over but as she starts to lower herself to the ground, I put my hands on her waist and ease her down.

  “Thanks,” she says and pushes her hair behind her ears. I’ve noticed this is a nervous move she makes, and I like that she’s on edge with me.

  Turning from her, I take the reins of both horses and lead them over to some rabbitbrush growing near the trail. I toss the reins into the branches, knowing the horses won’t move. Pulling a rolled saddle blanket from the back of my mount, I shake it out.

  The trail we had been riding was bordered on one side by a thick grove of juniper, birch, and pine and to the other side by a wide, flat meadow. About a thousand yards further and we’d hit the Snake River. I’d chosen this trail because it rides perpendicular to the mountain range so I’d wow Sloane with the beauty, but mostly because there aren’t any cattle on this part of the ranch. No cattle means no cowboys.

  That means privacy.

  Grabbing two bottles of water out of my saddlebag, I tell her, “Follow me.”

  I have two choices. Plop the blanket in the meadow grass or move into the woods and hope for a decent spot free of too much of nature’s debris. The woods would be ideal, offering more privacy and hopefully loosening Sloane’s inhibitions, but I choose the meadow because I like a challenge. Besides, fucking in a field under a bright blue sky? Nothing better.

  I find a nice spot perhaps no more than twenty feet from the trail and lay the blanket down. The grass is fairly sparse and clumps of sagebrush around us sweeten the already pristine air. I sit, stretch my legs out, and nod toward the spot beside me.

  “Take a load off, Right Hook.”

  She gives a soft laugh and plops down to my right, crossing her legs and reaching out for a piece of sage. Picking it off, she holds it to her nose, giving it a long sniff. “Mmmm… that smells good.”

  “I never get tired of that smell,” I say as I tilt my head back to let the sun warm my face a bit. I didn’t have my cowboy hat since it was too far out of the way to swing by my house, so I made due with a ball cap I had in my glovebox. Luckily, the sun isn’t too brutal today, although I won’t keep Sloane out here too long because her skin is definitely on the delicately pale side.

  “So why do you work so hard?” Her voice cuts through my moment of commune with the sun, and I turn to look at her beside me. “You work full time and fill your off hours with extra work. Sounds like a man on a mission to me.”

  “I’m taking time off now, aren’t I?” I say with a wink and lean toward her. I bring a hand to her thigh and angle my head in for a kiss.

  Her head pulls back and her hands come to my chest. “Seriously… why do you work so hard?”

  Sighing, I give her leg a squeeze, pull away from her, and lay back on the blanket. I plant my feet on the ground and rest my hands on my stomach. It takes no more than a moment for Sloane to mimic my actions and then she’s lying on her back beside me, both of us now staring up into the blue Wyoming sky dotted with white clouds.

  “I was married,” I tell her simply, but there’s nothing simple about this story and it’s not one I’ve told many people. “Five years ago. My wife had some addictions… several actually. Cocaine mostly because Rachel loved to party. But she was also addicted to shopping. She ran up about fifty-thousand dollars of credit card debt that I’m stuck paying.”

  Sloane’s head pops up, and she turns on her side to face me. I just angle my head to the right so I can see her.

  Her brows are furrowed as she asks, “But isn’t that debt split when you divorce? Why do you have to pay it all?”

  “Because we didn’t divorce,” I tell her. Her eyes flare wide with shock, so I quickly let her off the hook. “She’s dead. Been about three years now, and the cards were in our names jointly.”

  Sloane places a hand on my chest, and her face melts into a symphony of sorrow. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not,” I say coldly as I sit up and Sloane’s hand falls away. She nibbles on her lower lip with worry and confusion. “I’m glad she’s dead. She didn’t deserve this life.”

  Rearing back, Sloane tilts her head in astonishment as if she couldn’t believe I’d say something so cruel about another human being. She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it just as quickly and right there… in her eyes, I see it. She starts to disconnect from me.

  And that just won’t do. I told her the truth but not all of it, and I’m not about to lose something else to the destruction that encompassed all that was Rachel Bonham.

  Snaking my hand out, I grab hers and hold onto it before she can pull away further. “She killed our child,” I say gruffly. I know it’s a bit dramatic, but I need Sloane to understand that despite the drugs, cheating, and running up astronomical bills I couldn’t afford, there’s only one true reason I’m glad she’s dead.

  “What?” Sloane says and she goes to her knees, inches her way closer to me with concern etched over her face.

  Taking a deep breath, I blow it out harshly and tell her what very few people know about me. “She was twelve weeks pregnant. I had no clue, but she went and had an abortion behind my back. I found out from a fucking credit card bill.”

  A deep gasp of dismay comes from Sloane’s lips, and she whispers, “That bitch. That evil bitch.”

  “She was so drugged out, I’m not sure she really cared what she was doing. She died about three weeks after from an overdose.”

  “I’m glad,” Sloane says, but I know she doesn’t really mean it. She doesn’t know Rachel or me, but even as heinous as my situation was and as much as she empathizes, I can tell Sloane has a soft heart and wouldn’t wish Rachel’s horror of a life on anyone.

  I wish I could be as forgiving, but remembering that pain and misery is good for me. It helps to keep me at arm’s length from others so I don’t fall for that shit again.

  Some would look at me right now, sitting in a sunny meadow with a pretty girl and would just shake their head with humor at the situation, but they’d be wrong in thinking I’m falling for Sloane. No, I like having sex with her. She’s cool and all, and fun to hang with, but this is one thing and one thing only.

  It’s about dirty sex with an angel-pure type of girl. Once I get her dirtied up, I’m sure I’ll cut her loose.

  Chapter 14

  Sloane

  “Where are we going?” I had asked Cain when he showed up at my apartment to pick me up for our date tonight. I wasn’t sure how to dress because I hadn’t heard from him since our time at the Double J two days ago. Well, except for a short text that said, I’ll pick you up at 8pm.

  His response?

  He merely held up a black, silk scarf and said, “It’s a surprise.”

  In that singular moment, a thrilling quake of adrenaline laced with fear and excitement raced through my body as I suspected Cain was taking me to the sex club.

  I willingly let him tie the scarf around my eyes, shutting me in absolute darkness. He kissed my neck and whispered, “I hope you like it.”

  And that was the last thing he said to me.

  He helped me out to his truck and buckled me in.

  He never said another word, despite my questions and nervous chattering. He was purposely ignoring me, which was doing nothing more than focusing that fear and excitement into an almost painful cramp of tension low in my belly and between my legs.

  I have no clue how long it took us to get to our destination. With the silence and tension and darkness, my mind
was racing with possibilities, so I stopped paying attention to my physical surroundings.

  “We’re here.” His voice rumbles low and breaks the silence like the crack of a whip. I jump slightly and my hand rises to the scarf.

  “Don’t take it off,” he commands me. “Not yet.”

  My hand drops, and I hear him get out of the truck. In moments, my door is opening and I feel cool air against my legs as I’m able to get the seatbelt off. The forecast called for the temperature to drop into the mid-50s. Because I wasn’t sure if we were going casual or dressy, I chose an outfit that was in between. A mint-green circle skirt, pleated at the waist and flared out, hanging mid-thigh. I paired it with a form-fitting black turtleneck, black tights, and black ankle boots with a high heel. A cheetah-print scarf around my neck, silver hoop earrings, and a swipe of mascara were all the other accessories I’d chosen. I looked mostly sweet, which I’ve figured enough to know turns Cain on, but the high heel on the booties adds just enough sex appeal that Cain won’t forget the other side of me that he’s drawn out.

  Cain’s hands go to my waist and he lifts me from the truck. When my feet hit the ground, I sense hard-packed dirt as Cain puts one hand at my lower back and takes my other hand to lead me to the great unknown. My heart flutters madly within my chest, going faster and faster as he walks me toward something I’m sure is going to change my world.

  Up three steps that make hollow thumps and creak as we step on them. Wooden, I’m guessing.

  Four more steps, a pause, and I hear Cain turn the knob to a door.

  Is this the sex club?

  We step in, the air feels slightly warmer, and I hear the door close behind me. I’m slightly disoriented as I expected to hear more. I mean, if this is a sex club, I expected voices, maybe some music and moaning. I expected lots of moaning.

  Instead, my ears strain against the silence, and that, accompanied with the darkness I’m still immersed in, causes my pulse to soar practically out of control.

  Cain steps in close to me; I can tell it’s him by his smell and the change in the air around me. A hand to the back of my head and the scarf is being pulled away.