Wicked Fall (21 page)

Regardless, I know one thing for sure.

Callie is not cut out for this.

I’ve done my duty and I gave her the experience, but that’s as far as that will ever go. From here on out, she’s mine alone until I can decide which life is truly for me.

I pull Callie’s clothes from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and hand them to her. We silently get dressed and without a word, she slips her hand into mine as I open the door. Immediately, the sounds of groans, curses, and slapping skin fill the air. I almost hate for Callie to see this, but it can’t be helped. We have to make our way through the orgy to get to the exit door.

Winding us through the coupling bodies, I efficiently guide us to the front of the cabin. A quick glance over my shoulder and I see Callie’s not even watching the action. I take that as a subtle sign that maybe she realizes this isn’t really for her either. That, or she’s just still a bit dazed over the entire experience.

The late June air is mildly cool but not chilly as we step out onto the porch. As soon as the door shuts behind us, I unlace the back of the hood and pull it free from her head. She takes her fingertips, scratching at her scalp and fluffing her hair out a bit as we walk over to my Range Rover. Just as I open the door and help her step up into the vehicle, motion from the opposite side of the porch gets my attention. I see Colton jogging up the front steps which are lit by the single, yellow bulbed sconce beside the door. He glances over at me and waves a hand in greeting. I immediately push Callie roughly into the seat and shut the door, praying to God he can’t see her from the darkness of where I’m parked.

No clue why that fucker is here, but I raise a hand back to him and he gives me a friendly nod before grabbing ahold of the door to the cabin. I hold my breath with unrivaled anxiety as he steps inside and shuts it behind him.

Fuck, that was a close call.

And that pretty much settles any remaining indecision I may have had warring inside my head.

Callie Hayes is never coming back to The Wicked Horse for as long as she lives.

Callie

I glance at the clock on the dashboard of my truck and mentally grimace. I knew I shouldn’t have taken the time to stop at Camarina’s, but I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted to wear something sexy for Woolf for the next time we’re together, and the high-end lingerie store was calling out to me. A teddy, three pairs of panties, and two new bras, and I was on my way to pick up some groceries as my parents were coming in for the weekend. This worked out well as Tenn is also flying in this afternoon, although he’ll be staying for a week. I say it works out well, but in fact, it sucks, because I’m not sure when I will get to see Woolf again what with my parents and Tenn visiting.

And by “see” Woolf, I absolutely mean “have sex” with Woolf.

Whipping into the grocery store parking lot, I find a spot and hop out. As has been par for the course all day, I’m thinking about Woolf. I get goose bumps every time I think about him.

I absolutely shudder if I think about what happened last night between Woolf, Bridger, and me.

I was in a room with two men having sex with me while others watched.

When I think about the mechanics of what happened… the implications… I don’t know whether to be turned on or off. I think turned on, because damn… Woolf… Bridger.

Woolf.

Really, just Woolf.

He made me feel absolutely safe and sheltered during that entire experience. It was the dirtiest, most erotic thing I could ever have imagined happening to me. I felt immense pleasure and tremendous guilt at the same time for what I was doing, and yet when it was all over, Woolf reassured my sensibilities.

He drove me home last night, and without my invitation, came inside with me. Because we had pretty much been fucking like rabbits every day, several times a day, for the last week, I expected more of the same when we got inside. Instead, we took a shower together where he did nothing more than gently help me to wash myself before pulling me out and drying me off. He sat on the edge of the bathtub with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist as I blow-dried my hair, flipping through his iPhone to bide his time.

When I was done, that is when the oddest thing happened.

Woolf stripped our towels off and swept me up in his arms. He deposited me on the bed, crawling in behind me. With his arms securely around me, legs intertwined, he kissed me on my forehead and said, “Talk to me.”

It startled me.

That simple command.

But all of a sudden, I realized… I needed to talk more about what had just happened between us. I needed someone to explain to me and help me make sense of the myriad of emotions coursing through me. I needed to know if what I did was right or if it was wrong.

“Bridger,” was all I needed to say to get the conversation rolling, and Woolf told me all I needed to know about the mysterious man.

“He’s the only one I would trust to be with you and that’s why I asked him to join us,” he told me in a steady, calm voice. “And even though he’s my best friend in the world… even though I would have never denied him a woman I was with in the past… it bothered the fuck out of me to see you with him.”

I hated that Woolf was feeling conflicted, but I can’t deny… it felt damn good to hear he was jealous.

“Is that why he… um… stopped?” I asked uncertainly.

“Yeah. He knew it was bothering me.”

“He just knew?” I asked with some level of wonder, because when Woolf talks about Bridger, it’s always with a tone that surpasses respect.

Maybe deification?

“I would trust Bridger with my life,” Woolf said with such conviction, I knew that something had happened to cement that relationship. I knew without him ever telling me another thing, that what my brother had in the way of friendship with Woolf was nothing compared to what existed between Bridger and Woolf.

And I wanted to know why, only because I’m fascinated by the connection these two men have. And oddly… maybe even a little jealous of it.

“Why do you have such a tight bond with him?” I asked.

Woolf chuckled low in his throat and squeezed me. “I’ll tell you, only because you’re one of the few people who have truly seen just how comfortable we are with each other.”

My face flamed red because I knew he was talking about the fact that Bridger fisted Woolf’s cock and then licked the tip of it. That right there was so fucking hot, I almost orgasmed just from the sight of it.

“Bridger and I became close friends right away in college. Joined the same fraternity, became roommates in the frat house. That sort of stuff. We drank, we got drunk… we talked.”

“About me,” I couldn’t help interjecting, because I knew this from Bridger.

Woolf snorted. “You were the tamest of some of the subjects we had going on, but yes… we talked. About everything.”

“About sex.”

“About the kinkiest types of sex,” he clarified. “We had a lot in common, let’s just say, when it came to all the ways in which we liked to get our rocks off.”

“Were you two… you know, ever together?” I asked timidly, not really understanding how I was feeling about that particular subject. I mean, it was so hot to watch Bridger actually guide Woolf’s cock into me, but I’m not sure I liked the idea of them having a more intimate type of relationship outside of the best buds status. It definitely made me feel jealous.

Woolf chuckled again, completely amused with me. “If you mean have we ever fucked, then the answer is ‘no’. Not really turned on by that, but when we’ve been in threesomes, or group sex parties… Bridger doesn’t discriminate in who he touches. He’s into everything.”

“When he touched you… licked you,” I asked with my face burning and thankful he really couldn’t see it as it rested on his chest, “did that turn you on?”

“It felt good,” Woolf said matter-of-factly. “But that’s not what turned me on. What turned me on was watching you get turned on by it.”

“Really?” I had asked, completely amazed.

“Baby,” Woolf said with a deep laugh. “If you had told us that it would have turned you on to have Bridger fuck me, I would have probably let him do it just for you.”

“No way,” I exclaimed and pushed up from his chest to look down at him.

He grinned back at me. “Yeah, no way. He’s got a huge cock and I bet it would hurt like a motherfucker.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that popped out, but then I turned serious when he lifted a hand and touched my cheek. “But seriously… there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for Bridger, and he for me.”

“Tell me why,” I said, taking my own hand and laying it over his. “There’s a story there and it’s important, so tell me.”

Woolf had pulled me back down to his chest and I wiggled a bit to get settled in.

“Bridger and I did some crazy shit in college. Always trying to push the envelope. Bridger got involved with the BDSM lifestyle and while that really wasn’t my thing, I loved the parties he’d take me too. Next thing I knew… Bridger and I were throwing sex parties. We’d rent a venue, charge a cover, and let people in to do all sorts of crazy fucking.”

I know this should stun me, but it truly doesn’t. Not after what I’ve seen in The Silo. Not after what I had just done. Woolf’s voice drops a little and his fingers stroke at my shoulder. “The funny thing is… we didn’t do it for the money. I mean… Bridger needed the money and I gave it all to him because I was rich as shit, but that’s not why we did it. We did it for the thrill… always trying to make that next orgasm bigger and better. We did it for the shock value and before you knew it… we were sort of addicted to that shit.”

“Like a drug?” I asked with skepticism.

“Maybe,” he said softly. “I just know… when it came to my sexual lifestyle, I liked it kinky and varied, and I was always looking for the next big rush with the sex. I never went back for seconds though.”

I couldn’t help the slight sting of jealousy and sadness that hit me. Woolf has been with so many women. Beautiful, gorgeous, sinful women that would do far dirtier things than I ever did with him. But I pushed past it because as I lay in his arms and listened to him tell me all about the importance of Bridger, I realized… he’d come back for far more than seconds with me.

Woolf went on to explain that in their senior year at the University of Wyoming, they had thrown a sex party and were stunned to see the dean’s daughter had shown up with her boyfriend. Apparently, they ended up in a threesome with Woolf, which had been recorded by someone that had snuck in a smart phone.

Within days, the video had gone viral, but only three things were discernable from the grainy quality.

The dean’s daughter’s boyfriend, who was on his back on a mattress and looking unbeknownst right at the camera.

The dean’s daughter, who was straddling his cock and had her head tilted to the side, looking unbeknownst right at the camera.

And the back of a dark-haired man with a tattoo of a bucking bronco on his right shoulder blade, who was not looking at the camera but was clearly fucking the dean’s daughter up the ass.

My head popped back up off Woolf’s chest and I looked down at him in shock, because my lips had traced across that very same tattoo many times this past week.

“Oh, my God,” I said in a whisper, and then actually covered my mouth with my hand. “What happened?”

“I was on a one-way ticket to getting kicked out of school because I had been identified by that tattoo. Not just for going all anal on the dean’s daughter, but for setting up the sex party to begin with. It sort of outed me to the campus police what we had been doing.”

“But you didn’t get kicked out?” I surmised, because I know he graduated with a degree in animal sciences.

Bitter sadness filled Woolf’s eyes and he shook his head. “Behind my back, Bridger turned himself into the campus police, who were conducting the investigation before I could even be called in for questioning. Appears the asshole had gone out and gotten a matching tattoo on his back.”

“He took the fall for you,” I said in amazement.

“And I’ll never be able to repay him for it,” he concluded with finality. “He got kicked out of school and lost the ability to complete his degree.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was mortified at the things Woolf had admitted to doing, and incredibly touched by the lengths that Bridger went to protect his friend. I don’t know about Bridger’s background, but Woolf’s family would have been terribly battered by such a scandal. The Jennings were too public to not have that adversely affect them.

I wanted to ask more questions, but in reality, I sensed that Woolf telling me that story was something I should treasure. He never admitted as much, but I think I may be only the third person that truly knows what happened there. As such, I was incredibly humbled he shared it with me and also incredibly turned on by his trust in me.

I leaned down and kissed him, letting my hand slide down his stomach to his cock, which started swelling the minute my fingers wrapped around it. I then proceeded to show him with my mouth just how much it meant that he shared that story with me.

“Callie… hey, wait up,” I hear from behind me, and instantly, my memories of Woolf and blow jobs fade away.

Turning, I see Colton jogging across the parking lot toward me. My muscles lock with anxiety because Woolf had told me Colton had shown up at the cabin last night as he was helping me into the Range Rover. I hadn’t seen him as I had my head bowed down, rooting through my purse for some gum, but I was terrified he had seen me. Woolf wasn’t sure or not, but he said Colton didn’t seem to recognize me, hopefully because it was so dark outside where the truck was parked.

“Hey,” I say with as bright a smile as I can muster. “What are you up to?”

Colton’s eyes travel down me briefly, and is that my imagination, or did they linger on my breasts? I can’t tell because it was a quick maneuver of his gaze, and then he’s staring at me intently. “Just grabbing a few things for dinner tonight. Interested in joining me?”

“Um… thank you, but no. I’ve actually got some work to do tonight.”