Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)(10)
Sadly, sometimes I did love every bit of it. My lips curve upward as I realize, many of those times involved Rand. He’s an amazing lover and he’s adventurous. He is wide and varied in his kink, and even if he wasn’t f*cking me, I loved watching him get off with others.
And that is the reason I’m here.
Rand Bishop.
A man I’ve f*cked and sucked several times in the past.
A man I am immensely attracted to.
A man who has provided me unparalleled kindness in the last twenty-four hours.
I want him, and I want him tonight. It has to be here because I get the sense he’s deemed me to be off limits in his apartment. He wouldn’t accept my body as payment to him for his generosity last night, but that’s not what The Silo is all about. It’s about people making free choices to get their rocks off in an environment with like-minded people. It’s about sex with no strings or expectations, and pleasure as the only end goal.
Taking a deep breath, I reach into my little clutch purse and pull out my security fob. I punch the digital code it provides me into the wall panel, and the door unlocks with a soft click.
The Silo is the brilliant brainchild of business partners Bridger Payne and Woolf Jennings, although Woolf recently sold out. It’s a round concrete building with a white-domed top that looks just like an authentic silo. It sits just off the back of Bridger’s nightclub, The Wicked Horse.
While it might look like a colossal bin to store grain in from the outside, the inside is a massive round space with glass-walled rooms around the perimeter. It’s a sex club and all kinds of kinky, nasty, sexy stuff goes on inside this place. It’s a no-holds-barred type of club and anything goes as long as it’s consensual. Some of the things I’ve done in this club would make the devil blush.
As I exit the short hallway that leads me to the center, I immediately spot Rand standing up at the round, black-lacquered bar that takes up the middle of The Silo. I ignore all the other activity around me as I’ve seen it before. Fully dressed couples mingle with cocktails in their hands. Naked couples in the glass-walled rooms, f*cking in every way imaginable. It’s all almost passé to me, because I’ve not only seen it all, I’ve done it all.
Just last week, I let Bridger lock me in a stockade, effectively securing me around the neck and wrists, and then I invited several men to f*ck me. *, ass, mouth… didn’t matter. Luckily, it was one of those nights that was a good one. I enjoyed it. I came several times, and when I walked out, I didn’t feel degraded. That’s because it was my choice to be there, not Samuel’s, and I did what I wanted. I also called a stop to it all when I was done. And trust me, after the seventh guy, I was done because I was sore and my neck ached. My wishes were immediately granted, and I was treated with kindness and reverence by the men around me. Bridger was there to cover my body with a robe and lead me off to the bathroom where I could get cleaned up and dressed in privacy.
Yeah, that was a good night.
I’m hoping tonight will be better.
As I take in Rand, I see he’s wearing the same clothes he had on at the tattoo shop today. Faded jeans with a small rip in one knee, a thick, black leather belt, and a black Rage Against The Machine t-shirt that fits his chest extraordinarily well. His blond hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back in what I recognize as a habit now, causing me to smile.
He’s talking to a woman, and I take a moment to size her up. I don’t think I’ve seen her in here before, but honestly, I don’t pay much attention to the women. I like cock, so the women never interested me much. Although one time, Bridger strapped me to the St. Andrew’s cross and invited people to come in and eat my *. A procession of men took up his challenge, except one lone woman who came in as well. I don’t remember much about her other than her lips were so soft, and frankly, she worked my clit better than any man ever has before. I’m going to have to assume she was a lesbian and damn… she really knew what she was doing.
The woman Rand is talking to is pretty. Very pretty, actually, with caramel-colored hair streaked with golden highlights. Her skin is tanned and she looks to be about my age. I immediately figure either she’s a bartender from The Wicked Horse with a limited membership here, or she’s a lot like me… here with a rich sugar daddy of some sort.
Rand doesn’t look away from her. He seems to be totally interested in what she’s saying, which I can tell is something flirty by the way she’s standing in close to him and holding her drink so that her cleavage is squeezed for maximum display. She even leans in closer, goes up on tiptoes, and whispers something in his ear while resting a hand on his chest. My fingers curl inward, balling to tight fists when I see his hand drop to her hip. His fingers splay wide and while he does nothing more than grip her there, he does nothing to dissuade her from stepping in closer until her breasts brush against him.
I don’t hesitate a second. I walk through the minglers, sidestepping and nodding greetings here and there. I’m well known and get smiles from everyone. When I reach Rand and the woman I don’t know, he turns to look at me, his eyebrows rising first in surprise, then with a welcome smile on his lips. His eyes roam down my body, lighting up with appreciation. It makes me immensely happy to see his hand fall from the woman’s hip.
She also turns to me, her lip curling in disdain while she shoots daggers at me from her eyes. I don’t spare her another glance. Instead, I reach for Rand’s hand that is closest to me. His fingers immediately thread with mine and he tilts his head in question.