“Walsh… buddy, good to see you,” Jerico Jameson says as I saunter into the Social Room of The Wicked Horse.
We shake hands with a strong familiarity born from sharing a woman in bed or a good scotch at the end of an evening. Of course, that was all PT, or pre-Trista. Since then, his cock only fucks his woman, but he’s comfortable enough in his relationship that he’ll fuck Trista at the Wicked Horse sometimes.
Not going to lie… I enjoy watching.
“Anything special going on tonight?” I ask as I survey the crowd. I always come in late, usually no earlier than eleven. If I wait any longer than that, though, everyone’s pretty much worn themselves out for the type of fucking I like.
The deviant, dirty, and often hard kind.
“Same old.” Jerico grins as he rattles the ice cubes in his glass as he casually leans against the bar. Unless Trista’s here with him, he usually doesn’t venture from either the Social Room or his office.
“I’ll make something good then.” With a laugh, I lift my chin to the bartender hovering nearby. He nods and turns to get me a bottled water. I don’t drink alcohol in here.
Not because of any unpleasant experience, not because I don’t like the taste, and not because I’m against paying fifteen dollars for two fingers of house brand. Merely because I like feeling the things I do here with all of my senses.
Alcohol loosens inhibitions. However, if my inhibitions were any looser, I’d be having kinky sex in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard in broad daylight. I like sex, and I don’t need to rely on anything to get me in the mood.
But alcohol can also cut down on the feelings. Dull the nerves in my cock, slow my heart rate, and muddle my brain. If I’m going to belong to a sex club, I sure as shit don’t want to lose any of those functions.
“How’s business?” Jerico asks as I wait for my water.
“It’s Vegas and I own a thriving casino,” I say with a dry grin. “How do you think it’s going?”
Jerico chuckles and nods in understanding, but then says, “I don’t get it. You’re one of the hottest bachelors in this town, so wealthy most think you’ve sold your soul to the devil, but then you’re here almost every night banging some anonymous chick. You’re at an age where you should be getting married and having babies.”
I just shake my head and smirk. We’ve become pretty good friends over the last few years since this club opened, so he should know that’s a ludicrous statement to make about me. “Dude… just because you’ve found the perfect woman and want to spend all your little swimmers in the hopes of making babies doesn’t mean every man feels that way.”
“Aren’t you worried about being alone when you’re old and decrepit?” Jerico jokes. “You’re what… thirty-five or so?”
“Thirty-six.” I take the bottled water from the bartender and push a twenty his way, telling him, “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, Walsh,” the bartender says. No clue what his name is, but everyone knows my name here. Not only do I put on a good show for the other patrons to enjoy, but I also tip insanely well.
Turning back to Jerico, I feel the need to defend my age and single status. “Besides… did the marriage routine once. Wasn’t all that great. And thirty-six is far from being on the verge of going into a nursing home.”
“I hear ya, man,” Jerico says, and then looks at his watch. “I have to get going. I happen to have a hot-as-hell woman at home waiting for me.”
“Have fun,” I say with a wink, then turn to walk toward the door that will lead me into a world of debauchery. I told Jerico to have fun, but honestly… fucking his honey on the bed missionary style is not my idea of fun. But more power to him.
As I weave my way through the crowd, I’m stopped a few times by people wanting to chat. Some are men who want to be like me, and so they act like foolish puppies in their hero worship. Some are women wanting a taste of what I can offer.
As many people who stop me, twice as many look away, not wanting to make eye contact. The men who do that are jealous because I get the pick of the women. The women who do it are terrified I might draw them in, and I’m a demanding son of a bitch when I decide to give you my cock. If a woman says “yes” to me, then she’d better be prepared for a wild and bumpy ride that could leave her sore and maybe even a bit bruised.
I’m not every woman’s cup of tea.
When I make it to the foyer on the other side of the Social Room, I hesitate for only a minute. I spent last night in the Silo, and I’ll be there tomorrow evening for the Masquerade opener. I’m not feeling the Orgy Room right now because I’m also feeling a bit selfish, and in that room, I tend to share the spoils.
Nope. Tonight, I want a more laid-back atmosphere and I want a woman riding me, so I choose The Waterfall Room and turn left.
When I enter, I don’t bother to appreciate the lavish decor of high-quality furniture and custom fabrics. I only take a moment to observe the woman lying on her back under the waterfall while some dude eats her out and the water cascades down on them.
After a quick survey, I hone in on an empty couch beside the pool. I uncap my water as I stride there, not making eye contact with anyone. Once I take a swallow, I close the bottle and then set it on the table beside the couch. I undo my belt and pull it free, then unzip my jeans and pull my cock out.
I keep one booted foot firmly on the floor and plant my other on the cushion as I lean back and start to stroke myself.
It takes thirty seconds for a woman to approach me, and I lazily slide my eyes up to take her in. Blonde bombshell.
“Want a ride?” I ask, nodding toward my impressively large erection.
She licks her lips and nods.
“Get naked, then.”
When she starts toward the couch to presumably straddle me, I shake my head. “Get yourself wet for me.”
“But I am,” she coos.
I reach out with my free hand, push it between legs that spread wide for me, and brush my finger through her bare lips. “Nice piercing,” I comment as I brush against warmed metal. She’s got a stud above her clit.
When I slip inside, she is indeed wet.
“Feels good,” she moans.
I pull my finger free and flick it against her piercing. Her hips buck.
“Condom’s in my back pocket.” I continue to stroke myself.
The blonde bends over, fantastically huge tits swaying with the motion right in front of my face, and my mouth waters slightly. I’m a total breast man, but, like I said… tonight, I’m feeling selfish.
When she has the condom free of the wrapper, she doesn’t need any encouragement from me to put it on. I release my hold on my dick and concentrate on the sensation of her rolling it on.
Making a slight adjustment on the couch, I hold my hand out to her and she takes it. When she has her knees planted beside my hips, she puts her hands on my shoulders for balance. Her eyes are shining brightly as she leans her face closer to mine.
“Been waiting for you to notice me, Walsh,” she says breathlessly.
I don’t point out that I didn’t notice her because that would just be mean, and I don’t get off on being cruel.
“Can’t wait to have that hot cunt wrapped around me, baby,” I say, not bothering to ask her name because I don’t care what it is.
But she takes the compliment and lets me guide my cock to her opening. When the tip is nestled in, I release my hold and lean back.
“Go to town,” I encourage.
And she does, sliding down on my shaft so swiftly I see the slight wince on her face as she burns from the stretch. My dick is just plain big.
When she bottoms out on me, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, which is a sexy-as-fuck move on any woman, and starts to ride.
I hold still, fighting the urge to grab her hips to fuck her hard from beneath. I love doing that to a woman; getting so much power into my upward thrusts I’ve almost tossed a woman or two off me before.
But tonight, I’m going to let her do the work, because again… feeling selfish.
And she’s good, too. Her toned thighs tell me she’s an excellent top rider, and she grinds her pussy down hard each time. I want desperately to play around with that stud above her clit, but I’d rather her get off on my cock alone.
I can tell this is a woman who knows how to get it from cock alone, so I let her ride me hard.
I concentrate on those tits bouncing, her little yips of pleasure, and sometimes moans of pain as I swell even bigger inside her.
When she starts to come, she loses some momentum, so my hands come to her hips and I put a little effort into the game.
I punch my hips up, squeezing my ass muscles hard at the apex, and let gravity pull me back out. In and out, up and down, driving into hot, wet pussy that’s got my balls starting to pull inward.
One last powerful drive upward, and I clamp my teeth down and groan out my release. God, it’s fucking good.
Never had a bad orgasm in my life, but this one is particularly good.
The woman collapses on top of me, her fingers sifting through my dark shoulder-length hair. I let her lay like that for a moment until I feel myself start to soften, then I’m gently pushing her up and off.
She sits on her haunches, a satisfied smirk on her face like she’s the only one who has rocked my world that way. I don’t disabuse her of that notion, though.
“Want me to lick you clean?” she asks with a sexy purr, her hands pulling the condom off me.
“No thanks, baby.” I gently pick her up and stand her on the floor. Pushing off the couch, I tuck myself into my pants. I pick up my belt and quickly put it back on.
Reaching over, I grab my water bottle before planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “But you were amazing.”
I turn around and leave the Waterfall Room.
I don’t look back.
Jorinda Pearce thought she did everything right – graduated from college, married her long-time sweetheart, established a career. But what does she have to show for it now? A degree she doesn’t use, a job she hates, and an ex-husband that broke her heart.
Looking for a long overdue adventure, Jorie takes a walk on the wild side and attends a masquerade event at The Wicked Horse Vegas. It’s exactly the escape she’s looking for, and even better, she can explore anonymously. Drawn to the man masked in black leather with the body of a god, Jorie finds the greatest pleasures of her life at the hands of a stranger.
Walsh Brooks is the most sought after man in The Wicked Horse. Sex is nothing but a game to him and he’s the type that will always leave at the end of the night without looking back. Unfortunately for Walsh, there’s no way he can walk away from the mysterious green-eyed beauty behind the mask of sapphire feathers, because he knows exactly who she is.
Jorie is his best friend’s little sister and there’s not another woman in the world that’s more off limits.
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A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone.
Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great work-out, cake, or a combination of the two.
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