Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(28)
He was so much bigger than she was. She felt small and delicate in his arms, and the way he’d touched her, like he was committing her to memory, had made her ache and flutter. The recollection of it now, alone in his bed, made her wet. His coarse hands had been light and gentle on her skin. Until they weren’t. Until they were rough and demanding, holding her in an iron grip. Dear God.
And his cock! Entirely proportional to the mountain he was, and bigger than any she’d experienced.
He’d hurt her at first. Honestly, he’d hurt her at the middle and last, too, but once the burning stretch had calmed, the pain had been exquisite. She’d come hard, twice, by his hand and by his cock. The soreness she felt this morning was a welcome reminder, and she squirmed a little. She’d like to feel that achy fullness again. Right now.
But she was alone.
She didn’t have a watch. Since she hadn’t been planning to stay long at the party, she hadn’t brought her bag, with her phone, in from her car, so she looked around the room for a clock—there, on the dresser.
Nearly eleven. Shit! Where was he? Did it take this long to get coffee? Was he getting breakfast, too?
At eleven-thirty, it had become more than sufficiently apparent that yes, indeed, Show had bailed on her in his own room. Humiliated and depressed, she got up and used his bathroom, then got dressed and checked in the mirror that she was fairly back to rights before she did the goddamn walk of shame through the goddamn clubhouse. Her back straight and her head high, she walked out of his room, figured out what direction to go, and headed down the hallway.
As she came into the main room, which was littered with unconscious bodies and smelled like the dumpster behind a dive bar, she nearly ran headlong into Isaac, who was heading toward the other hallway.
He grabbed her arm to avert the collision.
“Whoa, sweet—” He stopped, his brows raised, and Shannon knew he was just realizing who she was.
His surprise humiliated her even further. “Shannon. Oh. Uh…hey. You okay?”
Other than the powerful need to cry, she was just peachy. But she held it together and smiled. “Yeah.
Great. Just on my way out.”
The surprise did not leave his face. He did not look like he’d had the kind of night the rest of the Horde had had. He was showered and wide awake, here to work, she guessed. She had no idea what that exactly meant. Probably town stuff. She didn’t rightly care at the moment; she needed to get out.
“You, uh, want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. Got to go.” She pulled her arm free from his grip and strode out with as much dignity as she could muster, careful not to trip over the unconscious people and other detritus of Badger’s party.
oOo
When she got back to the inn, everything seemed quiet. She’d checked her phone when she’d got into her car—no messages, so the night had been quiet, too, apparently. That was good. They were booked solid for the weekend, but Beth always ran breakfast without her, so she probably hadn’t been missed. She could take it easy until the late afternoon, assuming no crises. Badger had an assistant, Kenny, who would be tending the animals and running the trail rides today, while Badge recuperated from his party.
Shannon needed to do some recuperating of her own, at least mentally. Emotionally. She’d thought she had made a connection with Show, that the night had meant something. She’d obviously been very wrong.
She’d never had such a humiliating experience. She’d never been left like that after sex. Even the casual encounters she’d had had ended with some dignity. With a proper goodbye and maybe a croissant and a cup of coffee first.
Back in her apartment she cast off her clothes, feeling disgusted by their feel and smell. She walked naked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, making the water as hot as she could stand. She stepped in and washed, shampooing her hair, lathering up her shower puff and cleaning away the night. She couldn’t clean the sick feeling in her chest, though, the lingering weight of it. She rinsed off and stood in the scalding stream, her mind running over the night with Show, turning sweet and sexy memories into cringe-worthy abominations. She’d been a fool.
She shouldn’t have gone. What an idiot she was. But Badger had invited her, and he’d been so sweet and excited, trying to play it off all cool and detached, but failing miserably. And yes—she’d known she’d see Show, and she’d dressed for his attention.
Well, she’d gotten it. And here she was, washing his come away. Because she’d let him go without a condom. A biker, who spent his days surrounded by girls who got passed around. Suddenly, her knees gave out under the weight of it all, and she sat hard on the floor of the shower, sobbing.
oOo
That evening, not long before they’d serve the nightcap to their guests, Shannon was sitting at her desk, preparing for the coming week—or longer. The first Hollywood contingent, two writers and a photographer, were checking in the next afternoon, with an open checkout. They were planning a week at the least. Three rooms booked for seven days was good; the inn tended to be quiet during the week. But these guests would take some extra management. They wanted space for interviews, they wanted a “guide”
(as if Signal Bend was some wild, uncharted territory), and they had an array of special food requirements that would take some effort to meet in these parts—gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan. Feeding these three people for a week would require Beth’s full attention—and all of her patience. She had had no idea what ‘quinoa’ was until Shannon had explained it, and the look on her face once that explanation had been made suggested that Beth thought people who couldn’t or wouldn’t eat wheat or dairy were not her kind of people and never would be.