Wicked Ride (13 page)

She finally looks back to me and
says, “Okay. I’ll
do it. But first, I want to know if you’re happier now than you
were two years ago before you began your travels?”

I don’t
even bother trying to suck in a breath of fortitude. If I did, it
might actually give me too much pause and cause me to lie to her. So
I go ahead and let out the truth as best as I can relay it without
giving away why I feel that way. “There were moments where I
was happier, but there were moments that were the worst I’ve
ever felt in my life. As such, I try not to think of my life before
my travels. It’s easier to try to forget all of it.”

“Oh,” Auralie
breathes out.

The sympathy in her gaze nearly
undoes me. I can’t stand to have her look at me that way
because I have the absolutely insane urge to lay my head on her lap
and pour out all the pain I keep locked up tight inside.

I shake my head, force fleeting
images of operating tables and flatlined EKG machines out of my head,
and I call forth the one way in which I know Auralie can bring me
peace.

“Hand down your pants,
baby,” I say roughly, my eyes going down to the button on her
khaki shorts as I scoot over on the blanket to put myself between her
and the river.

She doesn’t
move or even say anything for a moment, and I refuse to meet her
eyes, terrified she’ll push me for more. But I won’t give
it. I answered the question, and I did it truthfully too.

Finally, she swings her legs out
from her Indian style of sitting and lays down on her right side,
facing me. I go ahead and mirror her movement, lying down on my left
side, with only about two feet separating us. Because my shoulders
are broad and I’m
much bigger than she is, I think I’ve got her relatively
shielded.

At least until they get past us.
If some boater happened to look back, they’d
get a nice surprise.

The prospect of strangers
watching doesn’t
make me feel guilty in the slightest. I’ve always loved the
excitement of voyeurism, both as the watcher and the watched.

Auralie takes a deep breath. With
one hand, she manages to undo her button and zipper. I’m
surprised when she even pushes the waistband down a little to give
herself more room. She slides her fingers into her underwear, and
they disappear from sight. My eyes are pinned on her crotch, her hand
moving under the pink silk of her panties. I know when she touches
her clit because she gasps and her hips jerk.

That’s
so fucking sexy that I feel it straight through to my own nuts. I
bring my hand over to rub at my crotch, not relieving anything in the
slightest, only creating a deeper ache.

“Fuck,” I curse. My
hand goes to the zipper on my cargo shorts. In a flash, I have my
cock out. I risk a glance up at Auralie, whose eyes are now pinned on
my hand jacking my dick. Her cheeks are pink and her lips wet from
repeatedly licking at them.

“Feel good?” I ask
her hoarsely, and her eyes slide from my cock to my face. She merely
nods with a feminine grunt as she rubs at her clit and her hips start
bucking.

“God, baby… that’s
so hot watching you do that,” I praise her, and then I push at
her. “Rub harder. I want you to come.”

Auralie’s
hand flies against her pussy, the movements having dragged her
panties down so I get little peeps of her wet and swollen clit.

“Imagine it’s my
tongue on you,” I murmur to her, my hand stroking and squeezing
my cock. Pre-cum oozes from the top to help lubricate my palm.

“Oh, God,” Auralie
moans. Her hand is practically vibrating it’s moving so fast.
Then she stiffens, throws her head back, and moans, “Oh, God…
Logan… I’m coming.”

And fuck, it’s
so goddamn beautiful my eyes almost hurt watching her fall to pieces
with dappled sun and shadow falling across her.

And I think I’m
dying, my need for release causing my dick to ache and my nuts to
pulse with frustration. Oh, and to have her mouth back on me again.

I release my cock and scoot up on
the blanket a few feet at the same time, my hand going to the back of
Auralie’s head. Her
eyes are glazed as she pulls her hand out of her pants, and she
doesn’t resist when I pull her face toward my hips.

“Open up, Auralie,” I
tell her, pulling her closer to my shaft.

“Logan,” she
whispers, but she still doesn’t pull back against me. “Someone
might see.”

“Good,” I growl at
her. With one hand on her head and the other on my cock to hold it
steady for her mouth, I tell her, “Open that pretty mouth,
honey. Take it in deep.”

“Oh, God,” she moans,
but her mouth opens wide. That first touch of her tongue on the head
of my dick, I can’t help it. I grunt like a fucking caveman and
slam my hips forward, filling her up. Auralie makes a slight gagging
noise, and I mutter “sorry” as I pull back a little. I
force myself to hold still.

To let her set the pace.

To let her finish me off the way
she wants.

And then her hand is on my hip
and she’s pushing me
to my back. She surges up and bends over my dick, caught up in the
lust of the moment perhaps, or maybe just not giving a fuck the way I
don’t give a fuck if we’re seen. No one would recognize
her. The most that would happen is some other guys would recognize my
boat and give me shit about it later.

But whatever.

I can’t
see Auralie’s gorgeous mouth working me as her dark hair falls
all around to shield her face. All I can see is her bobbing head and
feel the hot, wet, sucking pull of her mouth, which causes my nuts to
start to tighten and my blood to boil.

I tilt my head, look downriver,
and see a boat in the distance that was probably going by the minute
she rolled me on my back. Three men are in the boat, two fishing, one
rowing, all three now currently staring at us. I lift my hand up and
give a “thumbs-up”
signal. One of the guys holds his thumb up high in the air back at me
in salute.

And oh, yeah…
Auralie’s hand is now rubbing my balls. I think about her
finger in my ass last night, and my fingers in her ass, and how bad I
wanted to fuck it, and how much I want that hot pussy on my cock with
her under me or me riding her from behind, or fuck… the best
of all… her riding me reverse cowboy.

I think of the million different
ways I want this woman, and I can’t
hold it back anymore.

I erupt in her mouth and call out
her name as she sucks every drop I give her right down her throat.

Auralie

I step out of the shower,
wrapping the towel around me and tucking it in tight. Another is
wrapped turban style around my long, wet hair. I feel refreshed from
a long nap I took this afternoon and sparkling clean from my shower.
Drifting down the Snake River under the bright sun, casting the line
hundreds of times, reeling in fish and sucking Logan’s
dick… I was worn out when he dropped me off around noon with a
quick kiss as he walked me to the door and promised he’d be
back to get me around six PM. We haven’t made full plans, but
he suggested perhaps going out to his campsite and cooking something
simple like hot dogs over a fire or perhaps he’d bring a pizza
and we’d watch a movie. I’m personally hoping for the
campfire because I’ve never eaten hot dogs cooked over one
before.

Hell, I’ve
never been camping before.

Or fishing.

Or had oral sex outdoors for the
entire world to see.

My face should be burning hot
right now for that last one, because I’ve
become the type of woman who Auralie Foster just doesn’t
recognize anymore. That’s not to say it’s a bad thing…
these changes or perhaps they’re awakenings in my sexuality.
I’m also powerless to fight these newfound desires because
Logan blows through me like the force of a hurricane, completely
overwhelming me and battering down what faint resistance I try to
keep toward him.

He’s
getting harder to resist, and I’m extremely worried about
tonight when we’re alone. The more time I spend with him, the
more I want to ditch my responsibilities.

Will I have the power to say no
to something more? Or worse yet…
will I beg for him to give me something more, despite how careless
that would be of me?

My phone rings from where I left
it on the dresser in my room, so I scurry across the hall from the
bathroom to grab it. I see Magnus’
name on the screen briefly before my finger is “accepting”
the call. I’ve been a bit worried he hasn’t called me to
let me know when he’s coming back, and while I seriously doubt
it’s today, because that would have given him mere hours to
handle whatever problem my dad caused, I can’t rule that out
either. The man is completely unpredictable.

“Hello Magnus,” I say
with what I hope is a pleasant tone to my voice.

Why I’m
worried about being pleasant is beyond me, as I’ve made no
bones about the fact I despise him? Maybe it’s subconscious
guilt that I’m carrying on with a man who could ruin all of our
plans, or maybe it’s merely because I’m feeling so great
after an amazing few hours with Logan and one tremendous orgasm.

“What did you do today?”
he asks in an equally cordial tone.

I never once consider telling him
the truth because he doesn’t
deserve it. “Stayed around the cabin. Read a book. Watched some
TV. Took a nap. The usual lazy stuff. When are you coming back?”

He’s
silent a moment before he says, “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe day
after. Not sure.”

I grit my teeth. He’s
doing that on purpose to keep me off balance and ensure I’m a
good girl, not knowing if he’ll catch me doing something that
will void his obligation to me to keep my dad free from harm.

Sadistic prick.

“Okay,” I say like
I’m nonplussed. “Just let me know when your flight will
be in and I’ll pick you up. Now, I just got out of the shower
and I’m dripping everywhere so I’ll talk to you later.”

“You’re going to The
Silo tonight,” he says briskly, not biting at my push to get
him off the phone because I just can’t stand to hear his
sanctimonious voice.

“What?” I ask in
disbelief.

“I want you to make an
appearance tonight. Don’t want the potential customers getting
cold feet or forgetting how hot the little prize is.”

“And what exactly do you
want me to do there?” I ask through gritted teeth, not making
any pretext I don’t like this plan. I don’t like it
because it interferes with my normal plans. It also puts me in danger
of another man touching me, which I don’t want anyone to do but
Logan.

“The usual… pick
someone new and give him a blow job. Make it nice. Put on a show,”
he says as if he’s talking about an ordinary day of business.

“Any particular preference
as to who I should pick?” I ask sarcastically.

It goes right over his head. “Not
really. Just someone new who hasn’t touched you. Put on a show
and make it good, then we’ll concentrate on the few people I’ve
narrowed it down to when I return.”

God, I hate him.

Hate him, hate him, hate him.

My brain immediately starts
whirring, trying to come up with something that will get me out of
this. He’ll never
buy another illness. Perhaps I can just make up something—

“And Auralie?” He
breaks into my manic thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I want proof. Have someone
take a picture and text it to me,” he says, and I can hear the
triumph in his voice.

I take a deep breath, fight off
the overwhelming urge to hyperventilate, and try to ask my next
question as subserviently as possible. “Is
my dad okay?”

“He’s fine,” he
says crisply. “For the time being anyway.”

“Anything else?” I
ask, my voice hoarse with fury because I’m rising to his bait.

“That will be all,”
he says pleasantly. “I’ll see you soon.”

He disconnects the call on me,
and I have to resist the urge to throw my phone across the room. I
also resist the urge to call my father and curse at him for getting
us in this mess. For even stepping foot into Magnus Albright’s
world all those years ago, and dragging me right along with him.

And I was almost free of it all.
I told my father I was out. I told Magnus I was out. I would have
told Gus I was out if Gus was still in the game, but no one had seen
hide or hair of him in three months, and this scared the shit out of
me because he had been working for Magnus. The word on the street was
he double-crossed Magnus and
poof
—he
was just gone.

It’s
why I wanted out. The further you got sucked in, the bigger the con,
the more chance of getting caught. Magnus didn’t like mistakes,
and he was brutal in his reinforcement of said dislike. I was afraid
I’d one day just
poof
—be
gone—if I messed up.

Two months ago, I was almost out.

Until I wasn’t.

“
Dad,” I called
out as I pushed open our apartment door, my head bowed down over the
mail I’d picked up from our mailbox in the dingy, poorly lit
lobby of our building. “I’m home.”

“
So I can see,”
someone who was not my dad said.

My head popped up, my eyes
immediately narrowing on Magnus sitting on our couch, one leg
elegantly crossed over another. He had on his classic, dark-tailored
suit and his dishwater-blond hair gelled over to the side.

My eyes immediately took in
other people in our small living room, and my eyes snapped to my
father sitting in his old, ratty recliner. I looked just like him…
black hair and crystal blue eyes, except the main difference I saw
now was that he was sporting a split lip and a black eye. One of
Magnus’ goons stood behind my dad, and he actually popped his
knuckles as he leered at me.

“
Are you okay?” I
asked my dad.

“
Yeah,” he
mumbled. “Apparently, I’ve fucked up though.”