Chapter 18
Maggie
Bridger pulls the Ford truck to a stop before a massive barn weathered gray from the elements. I see Woolf standing out front in a pair of well-fitting jeans, a plaid western shirt, and cowboy boots. He looks good, but not as good as Bridger who is in the same attire.
When he came out of his room this morning, he was dressed like a true cowboy, even carrying a cream-colored Stetson in his hand. I’d never seen him dressed this way, as he tends to wear dark jeans with fitted t-shirts along with heavy, biker type boots. I was in the kitchen feeding Belle some cereal when he walked in and advised us he was taking us horseback riding.
I didn’t argue because I was getting sick of this house and Belle who has far more energy than me was going stir crazy as well.
I didn’t know Bridger had a truck as he kept it parked behind the work shed, but it totally fits him, way more than the flashy Corvette. He’d even had Belle’s car seat strapped in, which meant I had to sit beside him on the drive to the Double J. We took the same back road we’d taken the morning we’d left to get Belle. As the truck bumped and lurched over the gravel and dirt road, I tried not to get too hot and bothered by the way my leg pressed against Bridger’s.
To say last night was a miracle realized is an understatement. Bridger totally gave into intimacy. The moment we shared when he came in my mouth was beautiful and wondrous. Granted, the evening didn’t end on a perfect note as Bridger was well on his way to giving me an orgasm when Belle woke up from a nightmare, but regardless… it was one of the best nights of my life.
Bridger’s different today as well. He seems more open and laid back. He’s wearing a smile, and I wonder how much of that is to my credit or his own. I also wonder when we’ll be able to explore his new adventurous side again, and if he is willing to take it even further.
After putting the truck in park and cutting the ignition, Bridger hops out and rounds to the passenger side to get Belle out of her car seat. I get out on the driver’s side and wave to Woolf as he walks toward us.
When I turn back to the truck, my breath hitches as Bridger shuts the door and carries Belle perched on his hip. She’s chattering away at him in that new language she’s developed that’s filled with clearly annunciated words mixed with babble. He smiles at her and says, “Oh, really? I had no idea.”
I put my hand over my mouth and suppress my laugh, as he clearly has no idea what she’s saying but is valiantly trying to carry on a conversation with her.
We all come to a stop at the front of the truck. Woolf leans his face into Belle’s and says, “Hey pumpkin… what’s your name?”
“Belle,” she says with a giggle.
“Pretty name for a very pretty girl,” Woolf says, and that makes Belle go all shy. She tucks her face into Bridger’s neck to hide, and my breath hitches again when Bridger’s hand comes to the back of her head to hold her there.
Woolf smiles at me. “Hey, Maggie.”
“Hey, Woolf. Thanks for inviting us over.”
“Sure thing,” he says as he turns and heads into the barn, but he speaks to Bridger over his shoulder. “I saddled Lucy for you.”
“Perfect,” Bridger says, clearly at ease with the horse chosen. He told me on the way over here that he works on the range for Woolf sometimes, so he truly is a cowboy as well as a sex club owner.
Again, complex man.
Inside the barn, a dove-gray horse stands placidly outside of one of the stalls. The barn is long and has at least ten stalls on each side. Every one appears to hold a horse.
Bridger walks up to Lucy, and Belle’s eyes go wide with wonder.
“Ho-sie,” she says as she points to it.
“That’s right,” Bridger tells her and sidles up closer to her head. “Her name’s Lucy, and you can pet her.”
Bridger puts his hand on Lucy’s muzzle, encouraging Belle to do the same. She hesitantly reaches out and strokes the horse with a bright smile on her face.
“Want to go for a ride?” Bridger asks Belle.
For the first time, a moment of doubt courses through me. I mean… this isn’t a little pony but a full-size horse. And my daughter is only two and is oh so very small.
“Bridger,” I say hesitantly. “Um… I’m not sure she should…”
“She’s going to sit in my lap,” Bridger says, shooting me a glance and then looking back to Belle. “Want to ride with me?”
Belle nods her head furiously, but I’m still uneasy. I reach a hand out to touch his arm, and he turns to me.
“She’s only two,” I say with obvious worry. “And if she were to fall… I just… I don’t know if she should…”
My words trail off, torn between wanting to give in to that look of delight on my daughter’s face and my need to protect her from danger.
Bridger takes his free hand and puts it behind my neck. His fingers grasp me gently and his thumb strokes the back of my neck. “Maggie… I promise it’s safe. Lucy is the gentlest horse known to mankind, and I swear I won’t let her fall. I’ll only walk around the paddock and I won’t do anything crazy, I promise. She’ll be totally fine.”
I chew at my lip, my gaze going back to the large horse and then back to Bridger, who waits for me to make a decision. I can tell he’ll abide my wishes, but I can also tell he really wants to get on that horse with my daughter.
Ultimately, I decide to trust in Bridger, knowing he’s been our protector from the start, and he wouldn’t ever do anything to harm a hair on her head.
“Okay,” I say with a tremulous voice.
His eyes soften. He then shocks the hell out of me by leaning in to give me a soft kiss on my lips. I’m shocked he does this in front of Belle and I’m even more shocked he does this in front of Woolf. I just didn’t think Bridger was in to public displays of affection, because hello… man averse to intimacy.
I gasp in surprise as his lips graze against mine and let out a sigh of sweet joy. When he pulls away, he turns to hand Belle to Woolf and then with one hand on the saddle horn, he hauls himself up into the saddle.
And damn… no man should ever look that fucking sexy.
Bridger shoots me a grin and it’s knowing. He can tell by the look on my face I’m lusting after him at this moment, and if he were so inclined to check, he’d find my panties wet. He then turns to Woolf, who hands Belle up to him. He actually sets her sideways on the inside of his thigh where he can wrap one large arm protectively around her. Then he takes the reins. With a soft cluck and tap of his booted heels to Lucy’s flanks, the horse starts plodding out of the barn. Woolf and I follow them, watching as Bridger directs the horse into a grassed paddock whose gate is already open.
Woolf and I stand at the fence, resting our forearms on the top as we watch Bridger patiently walk the horse in a large circle while Belle laughs and giggles in unrestrained glee. By the second lap, the knot of anxiety in the middle of my chest starts to loosen and I actually start to enjoy watching them together.
“I’ve never seen Bridger with a kid before,” Woolf says out of the blue. He doesn’t turn to look at me but keeps his eyes on the horse and its riders. “He’s damn good at it.”
“Total natural,” I agree.
“I’ve also never seen him kiss a woman before,” he observes.
“Really?” I ask, turning my head to Woolf.
“Well,” he says with a sly glance at me before turning back to look at Bridger. “I’ve seen him kiss a woman with the expectation of blowing a nut after, but never seen him kiss a woman just because he wanted the kiss and nothing else.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but my heart flip-flops over the implications that the kiss I just got was apparently very special indeed. I watch Bridger slowly walking a horse around in circles to entertain my daughter, and I realize how lucky I was to get that kiss.
“Maggie,” Woolf says softly and I turn to look at him. His face is somber, and something bottoms out in my stomach from that look. “Bridger has some seriously dark demons. His past is… well, it’s really bad. I never thought there would be a woman who would have the ability to push him past that, but I think that might be you.”
“You do?” I whisper, wanting to believe him because it’s what I want.
“I do,” he murmurs. “But it’s not going to be easy. You’ve clearly made some breakthroughs with him, but it’s going to get harder before it gets easier.”
“What happened to him?” I ask, hoping a clearer understanding of the mystery of Bridger Payne will let me help him.
Woolf shakes his head. “Not for me to say. But I’m just telling you… if he slides back into that closed-off person… have patience with him, okay?”
“Of course I will,” I tell him reassuringly. “He knows I’ll accept whatever he can give me.”
“Well, I hope that’s not true. I want you to push at him for more, but just be cognizant of the fact that he’s got a lot of years of being a certain way, and what you’re offering him is probably as terrifying as it is thrilling. Bridger’s happiest in his darkness, and while he might be enthralled by the light you’re casting, he’s going to be distrusting of it.”
I turn back to look at Bridger, his smile even wider than it was minutes ago. My daughter secure in his arms. I see perhaps a future there in that paddock and wonder if I have the fortitude to grasp onto it.
“What’s the best way I can help him?” I ask Woolf without taking my eyes off my daughter and the man who may be what dreams are made of.
“Let him lead the way. Let him be in control. And don’t push him too hard.”
“I can do that,” I say with resolve.
“Even if it takes forever,” Woolf adds on.
“Even if it takes forever,” I agree.
The commitment is made. I’m in this for the long haul.
Bridger continues to walk Lucy around the paddock, a few times even breaking into a little trot that caused Belle to shriek first in terror and then uncontrollable laughter. I almost shrieked too the first time he did it, but I luckily maintained my composure.
Finally, Bridger walked the horse back through the gate and handed Belle down to Woolf, who sets her on his hip. She looks over his shoulder at me and exclaims, “Mommy… you see me on ho-sie?”
“I did, baby,” I tell her with clear pride in my voice. “You were so brave, and that was amazing. Can you tell Bridger thank you?”
Belle looks up to Bridger and says, “Tank you, Bwidg-uh.”
“My pleasure, darlin’,” he says. He even tips his hat at her, and oh man… I swear my ovaries just combusted.
Bridger turns his eyes to me and holds his hand down to me. “Come on. Your turn.”
“What?” I ask, taking a step backward. “No way.”
“Yes,” he says, snapping his fingers before holding his palm out again. “Get that gorgeous ass up here.”
Woolf turns and walks away with my daughter, calling over his shoulder. “I’m going to take Belle up to the house. Callie will have lunch ready in about an hour.”
I look at Woolf’s retreating back as he walks to Bridger’s truck and puts Belle back in her car seat. “But… but…”
“Come on, Mags,” Bridger says in a low voice.
I chew on my lip again, all the same fears I just had for Belle coming to the front of my mind. Except this time, it’s me I imagine falling off the horse and getting trampled to death. “I’m scared of horses.”
“You’re scared of nothing,” Bridger says with a pointed look. “And I’ll go just as slow as I did with Belle. I promise.”
With a pained sigh, I give him a nod and say, “Okay… how do I get up?”
Bridger considers me for a moment before he dismounts. “I was going to just swing you up behind me, but now that I think about it, I’d rather have you in front of me. Means I get to wrap my arms around you.”
Oh, swoon. Did he just say that?
Now all of a sudden, I’m dying to get on that horse.
Bridger comes up behind me and with hands to my waist, helps to lift me easily into the saddle. The horse stands completely still and then Bridger’s hauling himself up behind me. Two of us can’t really fit in the saddle so with an arm around my waist, he hoists me up a bit and sets me down right over his crotch.
This, of course, makes me think lewd thoughts. They’re immediately driven away when Bridger clucks and taps the horse’s flanks with his boots, and the horse starts walking. My hands go to the saddle horn. I latch a death grip on it as Bridger leads the horse away from the paddock and onto a trail that starts on the far side of the barn. The Teton Mountains loom straight ahead with gray, craggy peaks covered in snow.
Bridger chuckles and tightens his arm around my waist. “Ever been on a horse before, Mags?”
I shake my head. “Nope. It wasn’t high on my bucket list.”
“Well, try to relax. You’re stiff as a board.”
I try to relax, but I can’t seem to remove the steel pole out of my spine. I try to concentrate on the sway of the horse so I can make sure I counter sway and maintain the best stability.
“You need an orgasm,” Bridger whispers in my ear.
“What? Huh?” I ask, startled, my hand gripping onto the saddle horn even tighter.
“I was going to tell you to put on your jeans when you got dressed this morning, but I couldn’t resist the easy access these little stretchy pants you wear would provide,” he says, and then his hand is slipping down the front of said stretchy pants.
“Bridger,” I hiss at him. “Stop. Someone might see us.”
“So,” he says dismissively as his finger scrapes against my clit, but I know he’s being dismissive because my concern is ridiculous. There’s no one out here, and Woolf has already left with Belle.
My head immediately falls back onto his shoulder, but I don’t give up my death grip on the saddle horn.
“That’s it,” he urges me. “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”
The tip of his finger dips into my pussy, which is flooded, and he pulls that wetness back up to my clit, rubbing in quick circles.
Then comes the ear porn.
“Wanted to do this last night,” he growls near my ear. “With my mouth. Wanted to lick this clit and suck you absolutely dry until you couldn’t possibly give me another orgasm. Then I’m pretty sure I was going to fuck you after and make you come again.”
“Oh, God… just damn, Bridger,” I say in a complaining voice. “You are way too good at dirty talk.”
He laughs darkly and flutters his finger over me faster. I give into the sensation, let the sun warm my face and I listen to his continued filthy talk while he finger fucks me to orgasm. It doesn’t take long and Lucy, God love her gentle soul, doesn’t even flinch when I scream out my release.
Bridger pulls his hand out of my pants and licks it clean. All I can do is lean back into him, utterly relaxed and ready to enjoy the rest of the ride.
We’re silent for a moment, but because I’m feeling so mellow and Bridger’s in such a good mood, I ask him, “So last night… it was good?”
“You mean am I good after coming in your mouth?” he asks, and I don’t miss the humor in his voice.
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“I’m good, Mags,” is all he says, but he doesn’t elaborate.
So I push forward with another question that’s been eating at me. “The tattoo… the birds on your torso. Those have special meaning?”
“They do,” he says, but then nothing more.
“Will you share the meaning?” I ask hesitantly, fearing his rejection.
It comes swiftly and simply. “Nope.”
That should be enough to dissuade me from trying further intimate conversation, but I’m not going to give up. I promised Woolf I wouldn’t, and I’d rather not wait for “forever” to break through to him completely.
“Then tell me about The Silo. Why did you open a sex club?”
I hold my breath and brace myself for his rejection. He’s silent for a long moment but finally, he takes in a deep breath. When it’s released, he says, “You already know I’ve got some screwed-up ideas when it comes to sex, so I guess the easiest way to explain The Silo is that it’s able to sort of bring order to my thoughts about sex.”
“Like how?”
“The Silo is about freedom. About doing things that make you feel good with no guilt or shame. It’s about expressing desires, passion, and lust, and doing it in a way that lets you sleep soundly at night because there’s no judgment.”
“Have you been judged?” I hazard a tentative guess.
“Not for expressing my sexuality,” he responds confidently.
“Ashamed?” I whisper.
“Every fucking day,” he says.
I sit straight up because I’m so stunned. Craning my head to look at him, forgetting my fear of falling, I ask him, “Why? Why would you ever be ashamed?”
His eyes bore into me, and I immediately regret asking him such a personal question. I expect him to tell me to mind my own fucking business, but he doesn’t.
But he also doesn’t answer my question.
Instead, he asks one of his own, “Would you ever go to The Silo with me? You know… after this shit with Zeke gets sorted?”
“Sure,” I say with a quaking voice as I turn around and face forward again. But the thought of going to a sex club terrifies me. I’m terrified of what I’ll see… namely that Bridger might like the things that go on there better than he likes just plain old sex with me.
“Would you let me fuck you in The Silo?” he presses me, arm tightening around me again. “In front of all those people?”
“I… I…” The words won’t come out, lodged deep in my throat.
But he moves on, and I’m starting to understand he’s trying to make a point to me.
“Would you let me lock you in a stockade, fuck you in front of everyone, and then invite all my friends to come and do the same?”
My stomach rolls.
“Or maybe I can put you on my St. Andrew’s cross, and I can stripe your skin with a whip? How about that, Mags? Would you let me do that?”
“Bridger,” I say with dismay.
He growls low in his throat and puts his lips near my ear, causing a shudder born of fear and anxiety to ripple through me.
“I’m ashamed, Mags,” he murmurs in my ear. “Ashamed because I want to do all those things to you, and I want you to love it. I’m ashamed because I want those things, and I know you can’t ever give them to me because they’d cause shame in you. And mostly, sweet Maggie, I’m ashamed that I’m even torturing you with this, because when it boils right down to it, I’ll never act on these desires. You and I are just too different, so it’s all moot.”
“No,” I automatically say in denial, because I don’t want to believe we can’t have common ground even though what he wants to do to me is beyond my comprehension at this point. “I could try.”
“I wouldn’t want you to try, Mags,” he tells me with brutal honesty. “I’d want you to beg for it.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask him with a hard edge to my voice. “Truthfully, Bridger… why are you saying these things?”
“Because, babe,” he says before nipping my ear. “I’m trying to make you see that while I’m enjoying you immensely right now, The Silo is my life. It’s how I survive, and that makes us too different in the long run.”