Wicked Ride (2 page)

Me?

I’ve
never cared much for virgins. Too stiff and unyielding, and when I
fuck, I don’t want to have to worry if I’m hurting her. I
want a woman who begs me to ram my cock into her, who won’t
mind the swift bite of pain it might cause. Doesn’t mean I’ll
give into that desire, because I find just as much pleasure with a
slow, sweet, and tender fuck. It’s all good to me.

But there’s
something about Auralie that speaks to me. I don’t care she’s
a virgin, and if I were ever lucky enough to get a crack at her, I’d
take great care to ensure I didn’t hurt her. I’d make it
good her first time, and, when she was ready, I’d give it to
her harder the second time if I felt she could take it.

No, that’s
not what intrigues me about her.

I can’t
put my finger on it, but there is something in her eyes that I
recognize. Call it perhaps one soul possibly speaking to the other
through our looks, and trust me… we’ve shared plenty of
looks each night I’ve seen her in The Silo.

In fact, just last night, I swear
we had an entire conversation with each other just through stolen but
meaningful gazes. There was a moment last night, just before Magnus
picked the lucky bastard who would get a little one-on-one time with
her, that she looked at me, and I swear her gaze said,
I
wish I didn’t
have to do this. I wish I could be free to pick who I want. I really
wish I could pick you.

And I couldn’t
help it. The look I gave back to her said,
I’ll
help you get out of this. Tell me what you need, and I’ll do
it.

But then Magnus gave a big,
booming laugh that broke our connection, and he was enthusiastically
shaking one of the patron’s
hands. My stomach cramped for a moment, thinking that he had “sold”
Auralie to this guy… someone I really didn’t know who
had started coming to The Silo in the last few months… but
then I realized he had merely been chosen for a tiny interlude with
her.

Magnus cut his eyes to Auralie
and jerked his head toward the man. The chosen patron was older than
me by about ten years, which put him about twenty years older than
Auralie’s rumored
“twenty” years of age. But I suppose he was relatively
attractive—not that I really looked at guys that way. I mean,
sure… I’ve fucked Rand a few times and he’s fucked
me, but that’s really just me looking for new and innovative
ways to get my rocks off. It’s all about consuming my mind with
the most intense and surreal experiences I can muster, so I don’t
think about… other things.

Auralie’s
head dropped slightly, and she took a deep breath. She walked up to
the man, who was clearly sporting a hard-on against his dress pants,
and took him by the hand. And because The Silo is a private sex club
that people join so they can express their sexual perversions in an
enlightened and accepting atmosphere, showmanship is often the name
of the game. It’s why The Silo is nothing more than a round
building with glass rooms on the interior, so that no fucking is done
in private, but is there for all the other patrons to enjoy and be
titillated by.

I watched last night, dreading
and anticipating in equal measure, as Auralie led the man over to a
set of low-slung, black leather chairs formed in a circle and pushed
him down into an empty one. Even though I didn’t
want her to be messing with that guy, I was also turned on by the
prospect, a feeling that completely baffled me.

Yes, I wanted those pale,
delicate hands to be working at my belt the way they were working
his. Wanted her to be pulling my cock out. I wanted her to lean over
me and have those breasts sway like hypnotic pendulums, just the way
they were for him. And Christ…
when she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his cock—which
was nowhere near the size of mine—I swear I almost felt the
sensation on my own dick. Even though I’d just fucked Rand not
an hour prior—having left him and Cat curled up sweetly
together on their bed—I became insanely horny again watching
the lovely Auralie give another man a blow job.

I was jealous, turned on, and
angry all at the same time. I wanted to tear her away and push her to
her knees before me. Wanted to punch the man sitting in the leather
chair, his face slackened from lust, and then I wanted to kick the
shit out of Magnus, who seemed to take pleasure and pride in pimping
out Auralie’s mouth
since he wouldn’t let anyone touch her pussy for free.

I watched for a few minutes as
Auralie bobbed up and down on his dick, my own thumping in my pants
for release. Locking my jaw, I watched, wishing it were me and
knowing it would never happen. The “rumor”
was that Magnus was going to auction her hymen off to the highest
bidder—and I could never afford her on my salary—but for
now, he was doing nothing more than guerilla marketing. He was
whipping the male patrons into a frenzy by parading her around and
letting her suck a few dicks so they could have a little test run
first.

I knew I was a goner when, on an
upstroke with her cheeks hollowed out, Auralie lifted her eyes and
pinned them on me. I read her expression loud and clear, for it said,
I wish this were your
cock.

Fuck…
I was a total goner.

I broke eye contact with her,
spinning around and stomping off toward the short hall that led to
the outer perimeter hall that circled The Silo. Following it about a
quarter of the way around, I chose a glass door that housed “The
Orgy” room. It was the best choice because it was always filled
with people who were nothing more than a writhing mass of cock and
pussy begging to be fucked. Grabbing a condom from a large bowl on a
table by the door, I headed toward the center of the mass. I was
going to get fucked or sucked, didn’t really care, but I needed
release.

And I’d
be imagining it was Auralie the entire time.

Auralie

I walk down the staircase, one
hand trailing along the knotty pine banister, the other holding my
long robe up so I don’t
trip. I suppress a yawn, I’m not sure why, then just let it
loose. As it is, I don’t bother to cover my mouth as manners
would dictate. The only other one who could possibly be offended is
Magnus, and I don’t care if he’s offended. I can hear his
voice, low and controlled, as I head through the small living room
and into the kitchen.

Magnus Albright sits at the round
kitchen table that seats four. It’s
also done in a blond pine with dark knotholes patterned throughout.
I’d never been to Wyoming before Magnus brought me here five
days ago and moved me into this cute little western chalet just on
the outskirts of Jackson. But I love everything about it so far, from
the stunning peaks of the Teton Mountain range to the pine log homes
that sparsely cover the vast landscape.

Yes, I love Wyoming from what
little I’ve been
able to see, but I hate why I am here.

Magnus is already showered and
dressed, his thinning blond hair meticulously slicked and combed to
the side to hide his impending baldness. His face is freshly shaven
except for long sideburns that he doesn’t
realize went out of style back in the 1800s. Magnus is all about
impressions, and he always dresses as if he’s going to be
handling “business” at any given moment. That means he’s
wearing a custom-tailored suit in dark navy with a pristinely
starched white dress shirt underneath. His tie will be added later if
he leaves the chalet, but I’m guessing he won’t since he
really has no place to go other than The Silo, and he doesn’t
even bother to drag me there until the late evening hours when the
place will be hopping with horny customers.

His muddy-brown eyes shift up to
me as he holds his cell phone to his ear, listening to whoever is on
the other end. He rakes his gaze over me impersonally, as he is
neither attracted to me, nor does he care for me. I am nothing but a
business deal, which does make me important to him, but not in the
way the heart works. I appeal to his mind and his ego, and he equates
me to nothing but a good score.

I’m
his long con that’s going to be a decidedly easy trick to pull,
even though it might take some time and effort to get all his ducks
in a row.

I’m
his pawn… his shill… and sadly, I have no choice in the
matter.

“Well, I don’t give a
darn if he’s demanding to cash out immediately,” he says
snippily.

I roll my eyes as I pour myself a
cup of coffee because Magnus refuses to curse. He thinks it’s
impolite, which is ridiculous given the fact he made me suck some
stranger’s dick last night without blinking an eye.

“Tell him that the terms of
agreement clearly state we get five days. You have to be tough,
Mickey. I don’t have time to come back and handle this.”

Magnus listens for a moment, and
then nods in affirmation of whatever is said in return. “That’s
good. And go ahead and deposit the Anderson investment into the
outsource account, let it clear, and then on the fifth day, cash him
out with a four-percent rate of return.”

A slight pause, and then Magnus
says firmly, “You
heard me right. Four percent. The man may be insufferable but he’s
well connected. He’ll refer more people to us.”

Another slight pause and a nod.
“That’s good,
Mickey. Now… would you like to talk to your daughter?”

My spine stiffens slightly and I
turn around to face Magnus, my eyes dropping to the phone in his
outstretched hand. Magnus gives me a cool smile and nods in
encouragement for me to take it. “He
wants to check in on you.”

I reach a shaky hand out and take
the phone from Magnus. Just as I start to tug it from his grasp, he
tightens his hold on it to stop my momentum and get my attention. My
eyes slide up slowly to meet his, and his look is clear.
Don’t
upset your father.

Giving a curt nod, I pull the
phone from Magnus. I then give him my back as I put it to my ear and
say, “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey pumpkin,” he
says in that faded Boston accent. He’s been in New York for
almost thirty years now, and it’s hard to detect unless he says
words like
park,
which comes out like
pah-k
.
“How are things going?”

I swallow hard against my lie and
hope my voice doesn’t
quaver. “Awesome. How are things with you?”

I purposely turn things back on
him so he doesn’t
push me for more details. Not that he would. Deep down, my dad
doesn’t want to know the details and I’m happy for that.

“It’s all good here,”
he says with a roughened breath. I can tell he’s stressed. “But
I’m holding it together.”

“That’s good, Dad,”
I say. My words come out shakily, and I know I’m about to lose
it. So I lie again. “Listen, I’m on my way out the door…
important business and all that. I’m going to hand you back to
Magnus.”

“Okay, baby,” he
says, but his voice is already fading as I turn on Magnus and shove
the phone back at him. He takes it with a cool smirk to his lips and
doesn’t even bother to look at me.

I grab my cup of coffee and head
back toward the staircase, to the safety and privacy of my room, just
as I hear Magnus murmuring to my dad again. I’m
sure my dad is pressing him for assurances that I’m truly doing
okay, but Magnus will never give him more than the bare minimum to
keep him pliant.

In my room, which is more knotty
pine walls, furniture, and flooring, the monotony of which is broken
up by a thick comforter with a Native American design done in taupe,
coral, and muted greens, I take a sip of my coffee and look around.
The walls are covered with western-themed prints of cowboys and
Indians, the matting inside matching the colors of the comforter so
it all ties in together. On the bedside table is a copper lamp with a
bucking bronco etched into the shade. A large rack of elk antlers
hangs over the bed, and while the decor sounds more masculine than
not, it actually is very soothing.

I’ve
pretty much been holed up in here when I’m not working it at
The Silo, trying to drum up as much horny anticipation and fevered
need to fuck me as possible.

After I take another sip from my
cup, I set it down on the dresser that has a large mirror attached. I
take a careful look at my reflection. My skin is clear and
translucent, apparently one of the few things my mother ever gave me
that was good. Magnus has forbidden me to wear makeup, something I
very much enjoy doing, but he says it makes me look older and that
would defeat his marketing prowess.

I do, in fact, love playing with
makeup and putting it on because it does make me look older. This I
like because I believe I look abnormally young for my age. Even
though I have large breasts, and, if you saw me naked, there’s
no denying I’m a woman fully grown, my face could sometimes
pass for a teenager. Magnus says dirty old men like that.

I shudder, hoping to God he
doesn’t auction me
off to some old perv. Every night in The Silo has been an absolute
torture as I wait to see what he’ll make me do. For the past
three nights, he’s kept it fairly simple. The first night he
did nothing but parade me around, fully clothed, which lulled me into
a false sense of security.

The next night, he struck up a
conversation with one of the other patrons and quickly found out he
was a cattle baron, which are frankly a dime a dozen out here, but
they are incredibly wealthy. Hell, all the patrons at The Silo are
sinfully rich.

They’d
have to be to afford the $50,000 membership fee.

So with the cattle baron looking
at me with undisguised lust, and Magnus calculating mentally how much
I could sell for, he decided it wouldn’t
hurt to give the man a “freebie”.

Now, since my “virginal”
status is what’s being peddled, the freebie did not mean sex.
Magnus made it very clear when he told the man—whose name I do
not even know because we were never introduced—that there could
be no penetration of my vagina.