Текст книги "Wicked Fall"

Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett

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“God, I missed this,” Woolf murmurs as he gives a hesitant rotation of his hips against me.

I moan as he rocks against me, squeezing my legs in tight against his hips. “Me too.”

He lowers himself onto me, elbows now supporting his weight on the mattress. He pumps his hips leisurely, and the sensation is exquisite. Woolf drops his face and presses his lips against my neck. “Mmmmmm,” he moans against my skin.

After a few more thrusts, he goes still again and raises his head to look down at me. “Christ, Callie… I want to draw this out but I’m having a hard time here, baby.”

I give a squeeze of my inner muscles, feeling them press in all around on his huge cock inside me. He groans and huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Just fuck me, Woolf,” I say as my hands come to circle around his head. I draw him down because I need his mouth on mine. Just before our lips touch, I tell him, “Fuck me good and hard, okay?”

Our eyes touch first and he smiles at me. “Okay.”

And then he fucks me hard.

The rockets explode and boom outside my window, my headboard bangs against the wall, and I can’t help the cries that come out of my mouth, which are thankfully muffled by Woolf kissing me the entire time he pounds me down into the mattress. He unleashes four days of pent-up passion and lust onto me, and I love every single fucking minute of it.

Within moments, I’m orgasming again with such force, tears leak out of my eyes, graze my temples, and tickle at my ears. And still Woolf thrusts into me hard and fast, our bodies coming together so perfectly, I wonder how in the world I could ever give this up.

Woolf lifts his mouth from my lips, slams into me deep one last time, and drops his forehead down until it’s resting against mine. He grinds his pelvis against me as he starts to come. “Oh, fuck. Callie… just fuck, fuck… that feels good.”

He pulls out, slams back in again, and his body shudders. “Still coming… goddamn, baby.”

His curses are like porn for the ears, knowing that my body has drawn out this normally quiet man in his fucking.

My hands come to his shoulders and I pet at him through the plaid shirt he’s still wearing. I feel his body trembling, releasing all the frustration over what’s been going on with us.

With one last grind of his hips against me, he finally lifts his face up and looks down at me. His forehead is covered in a light sheen of sweat and his breathing is erratic. My own heart is still racing, and I love the feel of him still quite full and heavy inside of me.

“You okay?” he pants.

I nod with a smile. “You?”

He grins at me. “More than okay.”

Woolf rolls off me, taking me with him. He comes to rest on his side with me pressed up against him. I can feel him start to soften but he makes no move to pull out, instead preferring to just let nature take its course.

After a few moments of silence, Woolf brushes his lips over my forehead and says, “Let’s get some of your stuff packed up. You can come stay with me at my house until things cool down and we figure it all out.”

I jerk out of Woolf’s hold which causes his dick to slide free of my body and lean up on my elbow to look down at him. “What? No, I can’t do that.”

“You can and you fucking will,” he growls at me, coming up on his elbow too so we are nose to nose.

“Woolf… I promised my father I wouldn’t see you.”

“And you’ve broken that promise,” he points out as he looks downward at my pussy with his semen leaking out of me. To punctuate his point, he presses a hand to my mound and then slips a finger inside of me. “I’m not giving this up.”

First I groan, but then I push his hand away. I hastily pull my dress down, feeling self-conscious now, and give him a level look. “Woolf… I can’t be with you. While I hate it, and it’s not fair, there’s one thing my father is right about. This will kill his chances of reelection if it ever got out that I was seeing someone who owned a sex club.”

“Then we’ll see each other secretly,” he says quickly… hopefully. “I don’t know the why of it, but I fucking need you, Callie. I’ve gone crazy these past few days without you.”

Oh, geez. Those words… I think I’ve been waiting most of my life to hear that from Woolf Jennings. So many times I wanted this man. So many times he’s walked away from me. And now, here he is saying he needs me. My little girlie heart just flops over and yells, “Take me. I’m yours.”

But luckily, Callie’s big girl head is also in play. “So… what would we do? Just sneak around? Meet for a noon quickie at your office?”

“If that’s all I can get, then yes,” he says quickly. “You just tell me when and where. How long you have. I’ll make it work. You know I work fast,” he says with a grin.

My gaze lowers, and I pluck at the material of my dress while the fireworks continue to boom outside. “So, we’d just be meeting to hookup for sex?”

Woolf blinks at me, and I see the moment when he realizes that no girl wants to be considered just a quickie here and there. “No, that’s not all it would be.”

“What more could it be?” I ask him, trying not to sound too bitter. “Not like we could go out in public. Not like I can do a sleepover with you.”

Woolf mutters a curse and pushes up and off the bed. He tucks his cock back into his pants and buttons up the fly, relatching the belt. I roll off the opposite side and pull my dress down. I can feel wetness trickling down my leg, and it’s bothersome to me. Every bit of the sexiness has been sucked out of the room by our grim talk.

“Listen… you better go. The fireworks will be ending soon,” I tell him softly.

He walks up to me and cups my cheek. Leaning in, he gives me a quick kiss and looks at me with earnest eyes. “Will you try to meet me tomorrow? We can talk about this some more.”

“I’m not sure,” I say, and then nibble on my lower lip. This screams “bad idea”.

“Just think about it,” he urges me as his hand pulls me upward on my tiptoes so he can kiss me again. Just a whisper soft touch of his lips against mine. “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

Chapter 21

Woolf

I balance the three cases of empty beer bottles precariously in my hands, trying to hold as much weight on my forearms as possible.

“Boss… let me help you with that,” Brian says tentatively. He’s our newest bartender, not a member of the sex club portion of the business, but he has potential. I heard Stephanie fucked him last week and she said he had the biggest dick she’d ever seen.

“I’ve got it,” I reply tersely, turning my body so I can back through the swinging door to the storage area.

Why I’m here at The Wicked Horse, helping to move empty cases of beer, is beyond me? Okay, that’s not exactly true. I’m here because I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself. Callie doesn’t work for me anymore, so the office plain sucks. Callie won’t speak to me anymore, so my sex life sucks as well.

Maybe I’m here because subconsciously, I want to fuck someone brutally hard and bang Callie Hayes out of my mind. Stephanie would actually be a prime candidate except her shift starts in five minutes and she’s nowhere to be seen.

Figures.

So here I am—President and CEO of JennCo, a Fortune 100 company—moving empty boxes to make room for more boxes because I just don’t know what to fucking do with myself. I’ve been reduced to this pathetic shell of my former self.

“Are you sure I can’t help you with that?” Brian asks again, and because I’ve just been a real pissant lately, I let him have it.

“For fuck’s sake,” I snarl at him. “I fucking got it, okay?”

And just as I say the word “okay,” the top box tips precariously forward and I do a weird swaying motion with my hips and forearms to try to stabilize. In slow motion, I shoot a quick glance at Brian, who’s already starting to wince over the impending disaster, and I go ahead and let out a muttered curse as the top box falls.

It hits the floor with a resounding crash and thousands of tiny shards of brown, broken glass litter the floor behind the bar. As I look down at the smashed pieces, knowing exactly how those poor bottles feel, something inside of me just snaps.

“Fuck this,” I yell out to no one, even though Brian gets the brunt of it. I throw the other two boxes down, reveling in the smash of more broken glass, and turn to stalk out from behind the bar. I catch Brian scrambling for a broom and while I already feel guilty for taking it out on him, I certainly don’t spare him another glance as I stalk down to the office I share with Bridger.

Callie Goddamn Hayes has got me twisted up in knots, and I can’t fucking stand it anymore.

When I slunk out of her house after having unrivaled sex with her, I was optimistic we could work things out. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, the amount of sneaking around we’d have to do, but hey… wouldn’t that just make it more exciting? Maybe I could sneak into her room at night and fuck her while Governor Hayes snored just down the hall. That was kinky… right? We could sustain ourselves on stolen moments until we figured out something better. I was sure of it.

Callie said she’d think about it, but I’m not stupid, so I wasn’t all that surprised when she called me two days later and told me she just couldn’t do it. When I demanded to know why not, I could almost recite the reason before she gave it to me.

She had softly said, “I’m sorry, Woolf. But what you can offer me isn’t enough. I want more.”

I stewed over that for about three days, then I threw caution to the wind and decided to brave her father’s shotgun. I showed up at her house, surprised to find Governor Hayes not in residence, but a very stern housekeeper who wouldn’t let me in the front door. When I threatened not to leave until Callie came down to talk to me, she admitted that Callie had flown back to Connecticut, and I almost went apeshit on the woman. She looked all kinds of frightened and quickly assured me it was to collect her belongings and bring them back to Wyoming.

I had to bide my time until she returned and I got another crack at trying to get her to change her mind. My extended grapevine of gossip advised me Callie had flown back a mere two days after that, but it took me almost another five days to stalk her in an appropriate manner so as to have a few precious moments alone with her.

I caught her going in her doctor’s office.

I merely followed her in and took her elbow, told Janie Mitchell behind the receptionist desk that Callie would be a few minutes late for her appointment, and marched her right back out again.

She pulled away from me and growled.

Yes, little Callie Hayes dared to growl at the wolf.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, and Christ Almighty… I wanted to throw her up against the side of the building and fuck the hell out of her.

“Trying to talk some sense into you,” I threw back at her, admiring the way her cheeks were flushed with anger, her hair was all tangled from when she pulled away and spun on me, and her nipples were budded against her t-shirt. My cock hurt so bad, I almost wept from the frustration.

We ended up having a full-blown, yelling argument right there on the sidewalk until Ernie, one of the town deputies, pulled his car over and told us to both move it along… that we were disturbing the peace.

I kicked his tire in anger before stalking off, pissed as hell at how stubborn Callie was being.

Didn’t she see that what we had was good?

No, fucking fantastic.

Didn’t she even respect the fact that I gave her monogamy?

I mean… that’s a big fucking deal.

Why couldn’t she just bend a little and give this a chance? I was sure we could make it work, but still… deep down, there was a part of me screaming at myself that I was being a dick about this. I wanted her to give and I was offering nothing back.

I punch in the alarm code to the office and walk in on Bridger and Stephanie fucking.

Rolling my eyes, I ignore them, walking right over to my desk where I plop down. I tune out the sound of skin slapping, breathy moans, and deep grunts, and flip on my computer.

“Want in on this, bro?” Bridger asks, and my eyes cut over to him. “This ass is tight.”

I narrow my gaze on them for a brief moment, and yeah… that’s hot. He’s fucking her hard in her ass and Stephanie is loving every inch of it. My dick twitches but then it lays back down, totally uninterested. It’s pouting as hard as I am that we don’t have Callie.

Pulling up my email, I scan through the messages, finding it unbelievably easy to ignore Bridger and Stephanie. There are several from Marta, another from the candidate that will be running against Reggie in the next election (word sure travels fast that I’m no longer one of his supporters), and one from Tenn.

A loud crack makes me jump and I see Bridger’s left a deep red handprint on Stephanie’s ass, causing her to screech in pain. That fuels Bridger on and he slams into her a few more times, then pulls out, whips his condom off, and unloads all over her back.

Sadly, Bridger doesn’t know anything of the unmitigated greatness of releasing yourself deep inside some wet pussy, a tight ass or a sweet mouth because he doesn’t come inside of a woman.

Ever.

He’s not afraid of pregnancy, but rather the intimacy of the act. I believe it’s the only thing that Bridger is afraid of in this world, and just like the tattoos that he wears on his torso, there’s a much deeper story that explains his aversion to that type of closeness with a woman. I know a great deal about Bridger’s horrific past, because he shares with me most everything, just as I share with him. But while I know many things that make up Bridger Payne, I think there’s much I don’t know only because he wants to spare me the pain of listening to what my best friend went through when he was growing up.

“Mmmmmmm, that was good,” Bridger praises Stephanie as he swirls a finger through the semen on her back before giving a light slap to her ass. “Better get to work.”

I shake my head and look back at Tenn’s email while the two fuckbirds get dressed.

What’s up, man?

Things cooled down? I hope so. And I’m sorry it went down that way. I know you have feelings for Callie, but trust me on this… sometimes things just don’t align the way we want them too. You spent a lot of time before I left telling me all about what drove you to open up The Wicked Horse. You and I are a lot alike… we have things that impassion us, and my best piece of advice to you is don’t let up on those goals. Do I like that you’re operating a sex club? Not particularly, but little bro… if it makes you happy and fulfilled, you have my support. I’m just really sorry that means you don’t get the girl, but hey… she really didn’t fit into that lifestyle anyway, right? It’s probably all for the best.

I read the rest of the email quickly, getting updates on Casey, Zoe, and Bree, then I focus back on the beginning. Tenn is pretty much telling me that I have his approval to pursue The Wicked Horse. This is something that should make me feel fantastic, but all I can concentrate on are the lines that keep jumping out at me.

I’m just really sorry that means you don’t get the girl, but hey… she really didn’t fit into that lifestyle anyway, right? It’s probably all for the best.

Tenn is hitting the nail on the head. My dream is The Wicked Horse. Callie doesn’t belong there. It’s simple fucking math. We just don’t add up.

“Later, guys,” Stephanie says as she walks out.

Bridger lounges back on the couch and squeezes his package while leering at me lewdly. “Dude… that was some amazing fucking right there. Would have been a shit ton better if you’d gotten in on it with us.”

I glance back to the email. “Maybe some other time.”

He snorts and pushes up off the couch. “Woolf… buddy. You need to man up.”

I look up to him in surprise. “What? Just because I don’t join you in a threesome, you’re suddenly questioning the size of my balls?”

“No,” he says with an amused shake of his head. “I’m saying you need to man up and go get your girl. I’m tired of your pissy attitude and so is everyone else to be honest.”

My walls start to rise up and slam into place. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I’m far more interested in Tenn’s advice.

It’s probably all for the best.

I stare at Tenn’s email, maybe seeking some deeper meaning. Surely that’s not what he really meant. Because fuck it… I don’t want to accept that I can’t have Callie. It’s not for the best, at least not in my mind.

Bridger’s large hand comes down on my laptop, and he slams it closed on me.

“What the fuck?” I snarl at him.

He calmly rests an ass cheek on the corner of the desk, arms crossed over his chest, and says, “Admit it.”

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” I ask, for the second time in my life wanting to punch Bridger. The first being when he was fucking Callie.

“Admit it,” he says again. So very simply, and now with a smirk.

“Admit what?” I grit out.

He just stares at me, calmly waiting me out. He knows me. He knows how much of myself I know, and he knows good and fucking well the answer to my problems wasn’t in Tenn’s email.

“Admit it,” he says again, softly.

With a sigh, I lean back in my chair and rub the bridge of my nose. When I look up at him, I grimace and say, “Fine. I love her.”

Because yeah… I fucking love Callie Hayes. It’s why she’s driving me mad, why my dick won’t look at another piece of pussy, and why I’m an asshole to everyone around me.

Bridger stares at me a moment before pushing up off the desk. “Man up. Get your girl.”

“What exactly do you expect me to do?” I ask him, slightly disgruntled that everything just seems so simple in Bridger’s mind. “Should I kidnap her? I’m sure I could shoot her dad before he gets me. And hey… if I do kidnap her, I could just tie her up and bring her to The Silo. Strap her to the St. Andrew’s cross so she can’t get away, and then I can fuck her whenever I want. That sounds like a brilliant fucking plan.”

When I finish my rant, Bridger just shakes his head and asks, “Are you done?”

“No,” I say in a completely pouty voice, but then I ask seriously, “What the fuck should I do?”

“Dude… it’s not that hard of a problem to solve.”

I cock an eyebrow at him skeptically, because I’m a pretty smart guy. I should have this shit figured out by now, but since I haven’t, I guess I need someone to walk me through it.

“You love her,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Her dad is the governor,” he presses on.

I roll my eyes, but he just waits patiently for me to play his game. “Yes.”

“And Callie can’t be affiliated with you because if knowledge of the club came out, it would kill her father’s reelection campaign?”

“Yes,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “So what?”

“So the only thing blocking you from her is the club.”

“Yes.”

“Then Woolf,” he says in exasperation while he thumps me on the back of my head. “Back out of the fucking club and get your girl.”

“No fucking way,” I say automatically, almost like a robot in fact. “This club is my life.”

Bridger gives out a harsh bark of laughter. “This club is your rodent wheel.”

I blink at him, confused. “Rodent wheel?”

“Yeah… one of those fucking wheels hamsters and shit run on to get exercise. They run and run and run, and go fucking nowhere.”

“That’s not what this is,” I say as I wave my hand around this office. “This was my dream.”

“This was your way out of a boring job managing a company you don’t have any interest in. It was a way to get lots of pussy and explore your sexuality. It was your way to stay tied to me, because you think you owe me for what I did for you.”

“No, that’s not—”

He holds a hand up. “It’s your rodent wheel, man, and I’m here to tell you… if you stay on that wheel, you are going to pass up something that I personally believe is the greatest thing to ever happen to you. A woman that cares for you, will love you, give you beautiful babies, and fuck you like a rock star. Who the fuck wouldn’t want that?”

“You,” I point out.

“I’m an anomaly,” he counter argues. “Unlike me, you have a heart, and it’s going to take a motherfucking beating if you let her get away.”

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the chair. I try to picture what it would mean to give this club up. No more wild nights of random, kinky fucking. No more threesomes with Bridger… except, well… maybe Callie would still want to do that. But no more pushing the envelope… not with sweet Callie.

I have to consider… what would I be giving up if I let her go?

That glorious pussy, her heart of gold, her love.

Wait? Does she love me?

I’ve done nothing to elicit that. I’ve left her in the dust so many times I can’t remember them. I’ve been trying to convince her the last few weeks to just let me fuck her on the sly without any offer of more stability.

I’m a motherfucking prick is what I am, and there’s no way in hell she could ever love me.

Giving up this club and going after her would be the biggest risk I’ve ever taken in my life. And I’d be giving up a lot without any guarantee that I’d get the girl in return.