Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3) (20 page)

“Yes,” I
whisper back, my eyes rolling into the back of my head and lids
lowering to full darkness. If I watch Rand and see the same
expressions I saw on his face when he was fucking Logan’s
mouth, I know I’m going to burst apart so violently, I’m
afraid I won’t be put back together.

Rand starts moving,
an animalistic sound of need and urgency rising from his chest. He
thrusts in and out of me a few times, and my head starts to spin. I
become lost to the sensation of him.

But then he stops,
and my eyes open slowly. He spreads his legs, thighs on the mattress,
and I watch over his shoulder as Logan crawls in between Rand’s
legs. Using his hand, he guides the head of his cock to Rand’s
ass, and with nothing more than a lowering of his entire lower body,
he fills him up again.

Rand hisses as he’s
pushed deeper into me, sandwiched in between Logan and me. His elbows
go to the mattress, his muscles bulging and straining to keep most of
his weight off me. We’re all still for just a moment, but then
I can feel the outsides of Rand’s thigh muscles flex as he
raises his hips, pulling out of me.

Just to the tip
where he holds still, allowing Logan to pull out of his
ass a bit.

Logan pauses…
a brief moment in time where I wonder what’s going to happen
next, before I scream out in pleasure when Logan slams into Rand, who
then slams into me. Rand lets out a hoarse bark of surprise, and
Logan groans as if he’s dying of pleasure.

“Oh, let’s
do that again,” I murmur, trying to unclench my toes that had
just previously been curled.

Logan gives a dark
laugh, and Rand’s
eyes glitter as he stares down at me with equal measures of naked
desire and fulfilment.

The tilt of his
head. The soft smile. The intent stare.

Fulfilment that he’s
given me what I wanted.

And I melt again.

Then Logan starts
fucking Rand, who starts fucking me again, and I come so hard, I feel
obliterated. I
have no doubt I can put myself back together again, but I’m
just wondering what a reassembled Catherine Lyons will look like
compared to the old one.

Rand

“Are you
excited about starting work today?” I ask Cat as she leans in
toward my small bathroom mirror and puts on mascara.

She gives a soft,
“Uh-huh”
as she feathers the black goo onto her eyelashes.

I’m
fascinated by everything she does to make herself up. Not to make
herself more beautiful, because I don’t think the makeup and
perfect hair does that. It just makes her beautiful in a different
way. She could wear nothing on her face, as I’ve seen her do at
night before she goes to bed, and still be just as lovely.

But I watch because
she lets me and because I could watch her for hours doing nothing.
Pish was already pissed at me for ditching work last Friday, as well
as missing Monday and Tuesday of this week. But I pointed out to him
that I never take vacation—which is true because there’s
nowhere I want to be—and that shut him up. I also told him I
was taking Wednesday too.

Which I did and
enjoyed thoroughly. That was the day after the spectacular fuck-fest
that occurred between Cat, Logan, and me. Whereas I thought the three
of us would go all night, turns out we all fell into an exhausted
heap because of the massive orgasms that ripped through our little
group. I think I dozed with my head on Cat’s
chest and her playing with my hair. When I woke up, Cat was sound
asleep and Logan was gone. I noted the way Cat was curled into me and
I was spooned around her, and I figure if Logan saw that, he was
being the good guy and jetted out of there so we could be alone.

So yesterday…
Cat and I did nothing but relax and recover from the events of the
last few days. She wasn’t going to start with Callie and Sloane
until the next day as Callie was having a bunch of shit moved from a
warehouse over to the campaign headquarters for them to organize.

Cat and I hung at
the apartment all day, wore sweatpants, ordered Chinese takeout, and
binged on Netflix. The only sign of energy either of us exhibited was
while we were watching
Jessica
Jones
.
I was sitting on the couch, my legs propped on the coffee table. Cat
was lying on her side, her head on my thigh.

Just as Jessica and
Cage were getting it on for the first time, Cat shifted, rolled, and
came up on her knees beside me. With her face still turned toward the
TV screen and watching Cage take Jessica up against the wall, she
palmed my crotch with her hand and started rubbing.

My breath froze and
I held still.

Deliriously happy
she initiated not only because my cock was about to feel really good,
but also because Cat was embracing her sexuality in a natural manner.
She was doing something she wanted to do with no one prodding her or
expecting anything.

So she blew me right
there while I watched
Jessica
Jones
.
Well, fuck…
couldn’t watch it. Couldn’t concentrate on anything but
her wet mouth on me, so we had to rewind.

“What’s
the smile for?” Cat asks.

I blink away the
memory, coming back to focus on her watching me in the bathroom
mirror as I lean against the doorjamb. Not sure why I’m still
loitering because I could have left for work already, but like I
said… very much enjoying the view.

“Just thinking
about that blow job you gave me yesterday on the couch,” I tell
her truthfully.

She beams back at me
in the mirror as she puts the cap back on her mascara. “It
was
really good, wasn’t
it?”

“Best ever,”
I murmur, and I think it was. But then again, each encounter with
this woman just keeps getting better and better.

She turns, placing
the mascara in a black, quilted bag laying on my cramped vanity.
Resting her butt against the counter ledge, she places her palms to
either side and says, “Listen…
I want to reach out to Kevin and demand a copy of the signed will he
says supposedly exists.”

“I thought we
were going to wait for Bridger—”

“I’m
tired of waiting, Rand,” she interrupts. “I’m
sorry… but this is my life and I want to get this settled so I
can move on.”

“Move on from
here?” I ask her quietly, my throat aching just pushing those
words out.

She gives a quick
shake of her head. “No.
Not from here, here… I mean like move on from Samuel, his
family, and everything that was my life.”

I instantly inflate
with relief and wonder if subconsciously I hadn’t
been pushing the will aside because I was afraid she would leave
after it was worked out. But I can’t keep her here against her
wishes to move on, whether it be from my apartment or from a bad
life, and I swore to myself that I’d help her out as best I
could.

“Let me call
Bridger really quick and see if he’s got anything to offer
before you call, okay?” I ask her as I pull my phone out of my
pocket.

She nods and I dial
Bridger’s
cell, putting it on speakerphone so Cat can hear when he answers,
“What’s up?”

“Just checking
in to see if you got to look over the copy of that trust agreement I
brought you?”

“Sorry man,”
he says with true apology in his voice. “I’ve had a bit
of an issue going on at The Silo and just haven’t been able to
get to it.”

“What’s
going on?” I ask, completely feeling a bit guilty I haven’t
been there in so long. Bridger hasn’t said a word, and I wasn’t
poking the bear on that.

He sighs into the
phone. “I
don’t even know if issue is the right word or not, but I
accepted a new patron into the club upon a recommendation of a few of
our more established members. In fact, he bought himself a platinum
membership, as well as memberships for his harem… four of them
in all.”

My head snaps over
to Cat, and she has
the same raised eyebrow look that I do.

“Did you say
harem?” I ask with a laugh.

“I don’t
know what the fuck you call it, but the man has four women he brings
in with him, and they all sort of… belong to him, I guess.
It’s fucking weird, but hey… you know our motto…
no judgment.”

“Then what’s
the issue?”

“He’s
got this girl… woman, really, but young. Twenty years old and
supposedly a virgin. Won’t let anyone fuck her. They can do
other things do her, but not fuck her. Rumor is going around he’s
going to auction off her virginity and everyone’s in an uproar,
wanting it for themselves. I’ve been at The Silo every night
just making sure I keep an eye on things. But seriously, reviewing
that document just slipped my mind.”

“It’s
cool,” I tell him, but inside, I wish he’d have some
better advice.

“Listen,”
Bridger says, his voice coming through the speakerphone in that
slightly tinny way, “mind if I give it to Jenna to look at?
She’s good and it will be a professional eye on it.”

Jenna’s
a former college classmate of Woolf and Bridger’s who went on
to law school, and she’s also Bridger’s attorney for the
business. She plays at The Silo too—quite well I know from
personal experience—and if Bridger trusts her to review it,
then so do I.

I look at Cat and
give a nod, telling Bridger, “Yeah, that’s fine. Cat’s
going to go ahead and reach out to Kevin to ask for a signed copy of
the will that supposedly cuts her out.”

“Sure that’s
a good play?” Bridger asks.

“I have to,”
Cat pipes up, and I give her a smile. “I need to move this
forward.”

“Hi Cat,”
Bridger says, his voice softening. He always had a soft spot for her
and I wonder if he’s fucked her. I’ve never seen him do
so and he rarely participates at The Silo. But still, plenty of times
Cat and Bridger were there and I wasn’t, so it’s
conceivable.

“Hi, Bridger,”
she says back, smiling at me. “And thank you for helping.”

“My pleasure,
darling. Now I’ve got to get to work.”

We disconnect. Cat
pushes off from the counter and moves past me to get out of the
bathroom. She does this with a hand coming to my waist where it rests
softly for a brief moment, and I like to imagine that she did it for
no other reason than she wanted to touch me.

I follow her out,
through the living room and to the kitchen where she pulls her phone
out of her purse.

“I’m
calling Kevin right now.”

I wordlessly come to
stand beside her, my hand going automatically to her lower back where
I rest it lightly. A sign of support. A way to give her strength.

She taps her finger
on the screen, pulls up Kevin’s
number and poises her finger above it. “I’ve got both
Kevin and Richard’s contact information in case something
happened to their father.”

I nod because I
can’t
imagine any other reason she’d have to call them, but I see her
eyes filled with unease. It hits me all of a sudden why she would
even bother to tell me that.

My hand covers hers,
and I pull it back from the phone slightly. “Cat,”
I say, my tone soft but censuring. “I’d never think you’d
do that.”

Call up one of
those brothers.

Sons to your
husband.

Because you
wanted to fuck them.

She gives me
somewhat of an apologetic grimace. “I
just… you don’t know me, Rand, and I didn’t want
you to ever think there was anything—”

“Just stop,”
I say roughly as I squeeze her hand in mine. “I
do
know you, Cat. Now make the damn call.”

She studies me for a
moment, and I stare back at her. She finally gives me a nod and pulls
her hand free so she can tap on Kevin’s
name. She hits the speakerphone button, affording me the same
courtesy I just gave her during my call to Bridger.

It makes me feel
like we’re
a team.

Unit.

Couple.

Really, Rand?
You’re
letting your head go there?

The phone rings
twice and then Kevin is answering. I expected his voice to be higher,
maybe even effeminate, because I can’t
help but view him as a little pussy for fucking his father’s
wife. I expect he’s ugly, small, and weasely.

Instead, his voice
is vibrantly deep, and I know in an instant that he’s
none of the things I expected.

“Catherine,”
he says smoothly, as if he’d just greased his throat with
melted butter. “I thought you’d be calling me. Please
tell me you’ve reconsidered my offer to stay here in Jackson.”

Both of our gazes
rise from the phone to focus on each other. Cat rolls her eyes in
exaggerated fashion, and I grin at her.

“Kevin,”
Cat says in her most regal, sophisticated voice. I expect she learned
to talk this way being married to Samuel and running in wealthy
circles. “I want a copy of the will you claim has cut me out of
my inheritance as your father’s wife.”

“So you’re
not considering my offer?” he asks, sounding almost hurt.

“Kevin,”
Cat snaps to focus him. “I want a copy of the signed will and I
want it immediately. When can you get it to me?”

“Sorry, love,”
he says, and I can hear the smirk through the phone. I hope I get to
wipe it off him one day. “But it’s in my father’s
home office in Vegas and of course, I’m here in Jackson. Once I
return, I’ll be glad to get you a copy.”

“Wrong,
Kevin,” Cat sneers at the phone, and I can actually feel the
rage vibrating off her. “I was in Vegas this weekend. In
my
home…
your
dad’s
office… and the will you purport he signed isn’t there.”

She stops, and I’m
surprised she had the fortitude to do so. I thought she might blurt
out that we saw the original trust agreement and pour-over will
signed not long after the wedding, but she didn’t. She holds
that close to the vest, and I think that’s smart. No sense in
him knowing exactly how fired up she is or that she has a copy of
what is probably the one and only estate document in existence. It’s
best to let him think she’s just a girl poking around…
not someone to be reckoned with.