Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3) (16 page)

Her beautiful, brown
eyes crinkle and she can’t
help the deep laugh that erupts. “Yeah. Fuck you very much,
Kevin Vaughn.”

Now I laugh with her
and totally can’t
resist reaching out to wrap my hand around her neck, pulling her
forward. I kiss her hard and knock the laugh right out of both of us.
When I pull back slightly, I nip at her lip and ask, “Would it
be bad form for us to fuck in this house?”

She snickers. “I
don’t think I could get wet for you in this house.”

“Then I insist
when we leave here, we head over to the Bellagio. My treat. We’re
getting a nice suite with a view over the lake, and I’m going
to fuck you on a bed stuffed with feathered down and covered in
silk.”

She sighs and her
eyes are closed with a dreamy expression on her face when I pull all
the way back. That look…
right there. I want her to have that on her face all the time.
Regardless of where this creature lands in life, be it here or back
in Jackson, I want this woman to walk through the rest of her days
with that look on her face.

I step up behind Cat
as she looks out the window at the Bellagio lake below us. It’s
timed water show set to music is quiet right now, and besides, it’s
better to see that stuff at night. Of course, she’s from Vegas
so she’s probably seen it a hundred times before. But I’m
glad we’re staying here. It’s a good way to celebrate.

Celebrate that we
didn’t
get arrested.

Celebrate we found
the signed trust agreement leaving her money and the house.

Celebrate we didn’t
find the one that supposedly cut Cat out.

Of course, it didn’t
mean there wasn’t one, but it wasn’t in Samuel’s
house. We had to figure out our next move, but we could do that
later, and besides… I want Bridger’s input on that. He
always has a cool head and a chess-like mind, and this is all about
maneuvering into the right spot at the right time.

My hands go to Cat’s
waist, and I press the front of my body against the back of hers. She
didn’t
give me any argument about coming to the Bellagio for the night and
letting me pay.

That’s
progress.

Her head falls back
and my chin drops to rest on her shoulder. “You
know, I think feathers and silk are overrated. I’m perfectly
fine just fucking you up against this window right now.”

Many women would
laugh, blush, and coyly banter with me.

But not Cat.

Taking one of my
hands, she drags it across her stomach and pushes it down in between
her legs. She chose to wear a pair of camel-colored pants with wide
legs and matching heels to our scouting mission at her house. Her
ivory-colored blouse and pearls made her look every inch the rich
wife, and she quipped that if she were going to get arrested, she was
going to look damn good doing it.

I agreed. She looked
damn good, but now I’m
bemoaning the fact she’s not wearing her simple floral skirt
she had on yesterday for the ride. It would make things so much
easier.

Still, I remain
undaunted and because her hand insistently pushes mine right to where
she wants me, I reward her with a hard press of my palm against the
bottom of her zipper. I estimate her clit is right about there and I
know I’m
on the money when she moans and tilts her hips into me.

“How about we
get these pants off you?” I ask her, but I don’t wait for
permission. Instead, I bring both hands to her button, where I easily
open it and pull the zipper down. I push the material, making sure to
grab her panties with my fingers on the way down and squat right
alongside. Pulling past the smooth, silky skin of her thighs until
it’s pooled around her feet, which are still encased in
four-inch heels.

“How far can
you spread your legs?” I ask her.

She turns her head
over her shoulder, eyes at half mast, and tries to kick one leg out,
but the constraint from her pants doesn’t
give. My eyes slide to her bare ass and just a peek of her pussy
below, and I know that’s not enough for what I want to do.

“Lift your
leg,” I tell her, tapping her left calf. She lifts that one up,
so I can pull the material of her pants and underwear free. Before
setting her foot back to the ground, I kiss the inside of her thigh.

I don’t
worry about the other leg, because now she’s free enough to
spread wide. Cat doesn’t even wait for my command but pushes
her left leg out about a foot. Now her pussy opens up to me. I surge
upward, bringing my hands to her ass and peeling her cheeks apart so
I can have better access. Tilting my head back, I bring my mouth to
her and slide my tongue in as deep as it will reach.

“Oh, God…
Rand,” Cat moans.

She’s
wet and tastes amazing. My tongue is drenched with her need, and
while my thoughts were to get her off with my mouth, my cock is so
painfully hard that I want to give it relief. So I pull my mouth free
of her and stand up, my hands working at my belt, button, and zipper.
Cat’s ready for me as she bends forward, placing her hands
against the window glass and tilting her ass outward.

“That’s
a good girl,” I murmur as I pull my cock out.

Step right up to
her.

Dip my legs.

Slide my way home.

“Mmmmmm,”
I groan through tightly closed lips and gritted teeth. Because fuck,
that feels good.

She responds with a
low moan of her own, rotating her hips…
trying to draw me in deeper, but that’s impossible. I’m
rooted.

“Hard or slow
fucking?” I ask her because I want Cat to start realizing she
has choices. I might take control most times and lead the way, but I
want her to know she has the right to choose otherwise.

The right to ask for
something she wants.

“Slow,”
she whispers, and I have to smile. Usually when we go at it, it’s
as if we’re in overdrive, both racing as fast as we can to the
climax because we know we can do it all over again. But yeah, she’s
right. I think, for right now, we go slowly. We have all day and
night, as we’re not leaving until tomorrow morning to head back
to Jackson.

So I fuck her very
slow and while at times it’s
almost torturous to hold back on blowing, in the end, it’s a
fucking stellar orgasm that actually drops both of us to our knees
when we come together.

Cat

I put in my
earrings, the only pair I kept that are sedate gold hoops, and check
my watch—which I also kept. I kept it because I’m
constantly checking the time and will go nuts without it, but also so
I could have something else to pawn should I need to down the road.

Walking back out to
the kitchen of Rand’s
apartment, I look down once again at the note he left me when he
jetted out early again before I even woke up.

Cat,

Stuff to do but
make sure you’re
dressed casual and ready to go by noon.

Rand

Short, to the point,
and totally not telling me a damn thing. But it’s
the lunch hour and I’m guessing maybe he’s taking me out
to lunch. Maybe like a date?

Which is a foreign
concept for the most part. I mean…
I went out on dates with Samuel. They were formal affairs where he’d
send a stylist to me, who would dress and polish me up. Then a driver
would pick me up at my crummy little apartment I shared with two
other strippers. They’d jokingly say, “Have fun,
Vivienne” as I walked out the door, an homage to
Pretty
Woman
.

Samuel would then
take me to a posh restaurant I couldn’t
even afford to work in and we’d make polite small talk while we
ate.

So not sure that’s
really a date.

Not the type that a
twenty-four-year-old woman should have.

Maybe we’ll
go to The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar for burgers, which is totally a
tourist trap, but I’m not really a local, am I? Perhaps a
stroll around town square afterward? That sounds fun—like a
real date should.

The knocking on the
door surprises me, and I flip my watch to look at it again. Noon on
the dot, but that can’t
be Rand as he’d just walk right in.

I go to the door,
put my eye to the peephole, and see two women standing there. Young,
roughly my age. One a brunette, the other a blonde. I open the door
and peer out at them. “Can
I help you?”

“Cat, right?”
the brunette says, sticking her hand out and not even waiting for
mine to meet hers. She takes it and gives a quick handshake. “I’m
Callie Hayes… Woolf Jennings’ girlfriend.”

I immediately turn
beet red and almost start to hyperventilate. Woolf Jennings’
girlfriend is shaking my hand? What the fuck?

I mean, seriously,
what the fuck? I
had sex with her boyfriend a few times at The Silo back in the day.

I furiously try to
scrub some of those images from my head as I desperately try to think
of what to say, but then she’s
dropping my hand and the blonde—who looks vaguely
familiar—steps forward, taking it. “I’m Sloane
Preston. I think you know my boyfriend, Cain Bonham.”

A strangled sound
gurgles up from my throat, and I go dizzy. I think I might vomit for
a moment, as I can only think these women are here to beat the shit
out of me. I’ve
been with both of their men, on more than one occasion, and in a
nastier way than I’m betting these two beautiful women have
been, and I just know I’m done for.

The blonde drops my
hand, tilts her head to the side, and asks, “Are
you okay? You look a little pale?”

“Um… I…
um…” I stutter as I take a step back from them. My gaze
flicks back and forth between the women, wondering if they have
weapons and why in the hell I didn’t slam the door in their
faces.

The brunette—what
was her name…
Callie?—gives a nudge to the other with a knowing look on her
face and takes a tentative step toward me through the doorway. “She
thinks we’re here to bust her chops about The Silo.”

She says this to her
friend, but her eyes are on me. I take another step backward.

“Well,
reassure her we’re not,” the blonde—Sloane, I
think—urges her.

“I’m
here to offer you a job,” Callie says, and I halt my backward
momentum.

“Excuse me?”
I ask, stunned at this weird turn of events.

“Bridger told
Woolf you were looking for a job. Woolf told me. I happen to be
looking for someone to help with my dad’s campaign—”

“—he’s
running for governor,” Sloane pipes in.

“—that’s
right. Things are starting to ramp up and I need help,” Callie
concludes.

Okay, now this is
just too weird for me to comprehend. With all the peculiarity and
stress in my life, I seriously cannot digest what these women are
doing.

“Let me get
this straight,” I ask with hands on my hips and eyes slightly
narrowed at Callie. I decide not to hold any punches. “You want
to offer me a job on your father’s political campaign?”

“That’s
right,” she says with a bright smile. “I mean… you
can do some basic typing, right. Address envelopes? Stick signs in
yards? It’s pretty basic, but it’s a full-time position.”

I ignore the
requirements for the job as I’m
more than qualified and decide to really address the elephant in the
room. “I’ve been with both your men at The Silo. Why are
you helping me? Why in the hell are you even here shaking my hand?”

My voice gets a
little hysterical at the end, and Callie’s
eyes soften. She ignores the fact I haven’t invited her in and
takes two more steps toward me. Her hands come to my shoulders and
she squeezes them. “Cat… I don’t know you, but
Bridger and Woolf both assure me that you are a very nice person.
Sloane and I know all about The Silo and what our men did there
before we came along. And that’s where I want you to focus…
you were with them
before
Sloane and I got involved, and we have no right to judge or be mad at
something they did before we fell in love. So if we don’t
have a problem with it, I don’t think you should.”

I blink at her
stupidly because although her words make sense, I know just enough
about women to know they are jealous creatures. I also know no women
who would want to be friends or co-workers with someone who had very
kinky sex with their significant other.

“She doesn’t
believe you,” Sloane says as she leans a shoulder against the
doorjamb. “Figures.”

“Well, we
don’t have time to convince you. I’m starved. We promised
Rand we’d take you to lunch and discuss the job, so let’s
go,” Callie says in exasperation and takes my elbow.

I’m
still sort of frozen from the shock of all this, but my feet
willingly move when she pulls me toward the door.

“Rand did tell
you we’d be by, right?”

I shake my head, no
words coming out. As I grab my purse on the bench in the mudroom as
an afterthought, Sloane mutters, “Typical
man. Forgetting the important things. Don’t worry… we’ll
have a great time at lunch. Margaritas at The Merry Piglet make
everything better.”