Chapter 5
Bridger
The orgasm is just beyond my reach, taunting me with its special brand of relief. It’s not something I really want, but it’s definitely something I need. Opening my eyes, I look down at the blonde head bobbing vigorously over my cock. I can’t see her face, but I can feel the warmth of her mouth as she takes me in deep and sucks hard.
Carina. One of my bartenders.
She gives good head, minimal gag reflex.
I should be busting an easy nut, but my body’s not cooperating. Oh, my cock’s hard enough and it feels good, but I can’t seem to get the job finished.
For the first time in… well, forever… I’m being sidetracked by worries, and it’s impeding on my ability to blow a hard load.
Fucking Maggie.
Goddamn gorgeous woman with a shit life and an even shittier future at this point, camped back at my house and completely lost in this world. I don’t want her problems to be my problems, but, for the life of me, I can’t seem to shake them free. I’m obsessing about her healing, keeping her safe from Zeke, and wondering how in the hell I can help protect her daughter when I don’t even know where she is. I’ve taken on her worries because I know how hard it is to break free from a terrible situation. I know what it’s like to have no good options. Most importantly, I understand the overwhelming guilt that gets directed toward yourself for not doing it sooner once you finally do get free.
Almost as if you enjoyed the abuse you were receiving.
And Christ… the abuse she took. Maggie probably doesn’t understand it, but when I realized all that shit she took… beatings and torture, but she never broke down and gave Belle up? Well, that right there had me respecting the shit out of her.
Carina changes tactics, concentrating on just the head of my dick and jacking the base with her hand. Yup… that feels good too, and I try to concentrate on that feeling so I can get it done.
Involuntarily, I start to imagine warm, brown hair instead of blonde, with streaks the color of a dark caramel running through. It’s the first thing I noticed about Maggie when she came out of the shower three days ago and I saw her clean for the first time. Her hair was stunning, even still damp, but it dried while we talked. The colors broke through then, and I couldn’t stop checking her out.
A tingling starts in my balls. This gives me relief the end is in sight and my dick isn’t broken. Apparently, just the thought of Maggie’s hair does it for me. I wonder what would happen if I imagined those full lips pulled back and her teeth grazing against my cock…
“Pull off,” I mutter to Carina as an orgasm starts to build from deep within. Thoughts of Maggie sucking my cock become vivid. In my imagination, she looks up at me with fern-colored eyes filled with lust as her teeth scrape over the head of my cock.
Carina doesn’t listen, apparently wanting to show me that her amazing skills include an aptitude for swallowing, and she tries to suck me in deeper.
I wonder if Maggie could deep throat me?
“Fuck,” I mutter as a violent tremor runs up my spine. I grab Carina’s hair, pulling her off me just as I start to erupt. Not a single drop lands on her tongue, thank fuck, but instead hits the side of her face as I push her away from me with a low groan of half-hearted release.
“For fuck’s sake, Bridger,” Carina complains as she sits back on her haunches and wipes my jizz off her face with the back of her hand. “I was willing to swallow.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t,” I growl at her as I push out of my desk chair and tuck my softening dick back in my jeans. That was utterly lackluster. The three seconds of pleasure seems almost wasteful, the only redeeming part of the whole experience was imagining Maggie on her knees before me.
Christ, I have got to get control over this shit. I’ve got no business even thinking those thoughts.
I don’t look back at Carina as she starts to push off the floor, but I do gentle my voice somewhat. “Go ahead and get back to work. There’ll be a little bonus in your paycheck.”
She snorts in response but in moments, I hear her walk out the door and pull it shut behind her. Carina likes pretty clothes and designer handbags, and gladly sucks my dick while we both pretend the extra money I add to her regular paycheck isn’t a form of prostitution. It sort of compromises my morals, but those are so tattered to begin with, I don’t obsess about it much.
I look back to my desk. There’s no denying I’ve got plenty of work I could do. I have to look over account reconciliations and sign off on inventory orders, but truth be told, I’d rather head back to my house and see what Maggie’s doing.
There’s a brief moment of indecision before I think, Fuck it.
Grabbing my keys off my desk, I head out of my office and call it an early night.
*
I find Maggie on her usual perch, on my big leather couch, sitting on one end with her feet curled up underneath her. I don’t need to look at the television to know she’s watching The Walking Dead. I know it by the way she has a soft blanket covering her body with the edges pulled protectively up to her neck as she stares at the screen with wide, tension-filled eyes.
“Thought you were too scared to watch that by yourself,” I say as I close the front door and lock it. I toss my car keys on the small table sitting to the side of the door.
She doesn’t take her eyes off the TV but says, “I can’t help it. I’m addicted.”
A lot and not much has happened in the past three days since Maggie came out of her drug-induced stupor and told me about her predicament. She’s slept a lot, and that’s good. It’s the best thing for her healing, and I can tell she’s moving around more easily now and taking less pain meds.
She’s quiet for the most part, trying to be unobtrusive in my house because she doesn’t want to be a burden on me. I’m sure she’d be fascinated to know that I don’t find her to be a burden, but I am worried about the situation as a whole. Instead, I find Maggie to be a calming sort of roommate. She’s considerate and keeps her stuff picked up, which includes a ton of new clothes that I went out and bought for her despite her protest. I merely pointed out to her that she couldn’t live in her one outfit. It had bloodstains that wouldn’t come out.
I also told her I didn’t mind getting her the clothes, although I’ll admit my thoughts ran on the lewd side as I was picking out her panties and bras in silk and lace rather than practical cotton.
Maggie’s cleaned my house, although I’ve asked her not to because I don’t expect it, and I know she has to still be in some pain. She ignores me though, and when I get home from work, my house is sparkling and she’s got dinner cooked. I don’t argue against dinner though as she’s a much better cook than I am. In the evenings, I found myself coming home early from The Wicked Horse, and we’d end up watching TV together. She told me that first night when I introduced her to The Walking Dead that she hadn’t seen a movie or television program in well over three years as there wasn’t a TV in her room at the compound. The most she’d seen had been some bad porn Zeke would play before he fucked her—a fact I would have rather not known about, but Maggie doesn’t hold anything back. It’s as if once she told me the truth of her past, she wasn’t going to hide the brutal details from me.
“Did you eat dinner?” she asks as she pulls the remote control out from underneath the blanket and points it at the TV, pausing it.
“Yeah,” I mutter as I walk around the coffee table and sit in my recliner. “Grabbed something at the club.”
I told Maggie I owned The Wicked Horse, but I obviously left out the part about me owning a secret sex club attached to it. There’s no way she’s ready to hear about The Silo and everything it entails.
I haven’t seen Maggie all day, having left early this morning before she awoke. I’d moved her into the guest room—not the one I’d fucked Jared in as I hadn’t been able to replace the comforter—and she’d been asleep when I’d left this morning to go help Woolf out on the ranch. I’d been wanting to get back on a horse and ride range for a while, something I find myself deeply desiring the more time I spend in my office as I’m a true outdoorsman more than I am a businessman.
My eyes quickly roam over her, and I observe, “You look better. Feel okay?”
I ask her this each night before we watch TV together. She smiles, like she always does, and nods. “Yeah… I feel a lot better each day. I didn’t even take any pain medication today.”
“You should take it,” I admonish gently.
She shakes her head. “No, seriously… I’m feeling much better. The bruises are fading, and I’m sleeping a lot. I really don’t hurt very much.”
“But you still hurt,” I point out.
“Not enough for those pain meds,” she counters with a pointed look. “I don’t like the way they make me feel, and besides… Jared said I didn’t have to take them if I didn’t want to.”
I grimace. Fucking Jared.
He came to check on Maggie yesterday at my request. He proclaimed her to be healing very well, which was fantastic news.
But when I walked him to my front door, he turned to me with expectant eyes. I shut that shit down quickly. “I thank you for what you’ve done and I owed you, but I also paid you. Got it?”
He hesitated only a moment before nodding at me with a look of sadness. He started to turn away but stopped when I said, “Jared.”
Once his eyes connected to mine, I made sure he understood the situation. “You do not tell a soul about Maggie, you hear?”
He nodded again. While I’m pretty sure he’d never say a word, I reiterated. “You’ve got secrets that I protect too. Quid pro quo, right?”
“Of course,” he assured me. “Quid pro quo.”
Maggie pushes the blanket off her and it draws my attention, snapping me back to the present. She stands up from the couch, and I have to clamp my teeth down hard to keep my mouth from falling open. She’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of workout pants that I bought her. In hindsight, they might be a tad too small. They look painted onto her. I take notice of how luscious that ass of hers really is and that her tits are huge, which is something I can’t appreciate when she’s wearing my t-shirts. I swallow hard and turn my head toward the TV screen.
“I’m going to make some tea and then take a bath,” she says softly. “Want some?”
No, it’s definitely not tea that I want. Bath sounds interesting, but she’s clearly not inviting me.
“No, thanks,” I tell her with a pasted smile on my face. She smiles back hesitantly and turns toward the kitchen. I unabashedly stare at her swaying ass as she walks away. When her body is hidden by the kitchen island, I push up from my recliner and make my usual rounds that I implemented the day Kyle dumped Maggie on me. I walk through the house and check all the doors and windows to ensure they’re locked. After, I set the security alarm, and then check my stash of guns.
It’s Wyoming and as a native son, I have guns. Lots and lots of them.
I use them mainly to hunt and target shoot, but now I’ve got them set up strategically around the house in case I were to need them for… oh, say… Zeke finding out I’ve got Maggie and coming after her. Got a shotgun under the couch, a pistol in one of the kitchen drawers, another taped under my bed, and a fourth shotgun in the middle guest room mounted just behind the door. I asked Maggie if she knew how to use a gun, and she shook her head with a look of extreme fear in her eyes. I assured her I’d find some time to teach her, but she looked positively sick at the thought so I let it go for the time being.
Maggie did ask me an interesting question on the heels of that though. “Do you think I should just go to the police right now? Tell them Zeke kidnapped me, beat me, and that Kayla tortured me?”
I had to give that some serious thought, but ultimately, I didn’t think it was a good idea. First, he’d probably be arrested and let out on bail, then Maggie would be in more danger than she was right this moment. Also, I didn’t want to do anything to screw up Kyle. He asked for some time, and, as long as Maggie was safely hidden, we could afford to give it to him.
As I’m walking down the hallway to head back into the living room, I hear the sound of running water from the guest bathroom as I pass by it. The door’s closed and light seeps out from the crack below. I can tell by the sound that she’s filling the bathtub up, and I sigh with frustration that I want the woman who sits on the other side of that door. But that’s certainly not cool, particularly when I’ve told her she’s safe here and being with me would not be safe.
I’m slightly startled when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Cal Carson, a friend of mine from New York.
I walk back toward my bedroom for some privacy as I answer, “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Just got off the phone with Logan and Auralie, giving them an update. Thought I’d do the same for you.”
I enter my bedroom and shut the door behind me. A few weeks ago, Cal helped out Auralie and her father by arranging legal protection for them. He facilitated a deal with a federal prosecutor to help bring down Magnus Albright, a fucking skeevy son of a bitch who was using Auralie to run a con in The Silo. He was peddling her as a virgin to the highest bidder, and she had no choice but to do his bidding or Magnus would kill her father. It was a bad situation, and my buddy Logan got caught up in it, but all’s well now. At least, I think it is.
“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly, and I hope to fuck it is. I’ve got enough worries at the moment.
“It’s all good,” Cal assures me. “Magnus is still in jail and can’t afford bail. The prosecutor wants to know if you’re interested in pressing charges since you’re sort of a victim too as the owner of The Silo.”
“No way,” I say without needing to think on it. While I’m in no way ashamed of my business, I don’t want it paraded out there in public. “Besides… I’m sure they got more than enough to put him away for a long time.”
“That they do,” Cal says with a laugh. But then he gives a cough and says, “Listen… Macy and I want to take a little trip. Figured we’d finally accept your invite to come visit The Silo. That still good?”
I smile as I pace my bedroom floor, because I know without a doubt that Cal and Macy will love The Silo. In fact, I’d first met them in New York when Woolf and I were visiting a sex club there called Voyeur. We visited several around the country as we were making plans to open The Silo, getting ideas and taking the best of them to create our own vision. While Woolf and I didn’t participate with Cal and Macy, we certainly watched each other do some kinky ass shit. After that, we all went out for drinks together. It started a solid friendship based upon a mutual appreciation of the more debauched pleasures in life.
Cal had openly admitted he’d had a hard time with the concept of a sex club and didn’t like his first experience there. But since then, he’s indulged Macy. After his third scotch, he even more openly admitted that once he gave his heart to her fully, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. And if that included indulging in her sexual whims, he would happily do so. He also admitted, after the fourth drink, that once you love someone, the worries and insecurities seem to melt away, and it makes the kinky fucking that much better.
Woolf howled with laughter at that, but Macy merely smiled at him with eyes shimmering with love.
It was nice.
They’re nice.
“Sure,” I tell him. “Love to have you. Just shoot me a text when you’ll arrive. I’ll book a hotel room for you at The Wort, and you’ll have VIP access the entire time to The Silo.”
“Excellent,” Cal says jovially. “Macy’s been hounding me for months, but I’ve been so fucking busy with work. But it’s a good time for us to slip away and have some relaxation and fun.”
“Look forward to seeing you,” I tell him, but my mind starts slipping away and focusing back on Maggie. I can’t put off this talk. “Listen buddy… I’ve got to get going. Text me details, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Cal responds. He disconnects the call after a quick, “Later.”
Taking a deep breath, I look at my bedroom door, knowing Maggie’s on the other side and just down a short hallway. As soon as she finishes her bath, it’s time we talked.
More accurately, it’s time she learned about The Silo and what I do for a living. I have no choice but to disclose it to her now.
I look back to my phone, tap on the “text” icon, and pull up my messages.
The one on top with the bolded name “Zeke” seems to pulse like neon. I’d received it a few hours ago. It’s what precipitated me to have Carina suck my cock to try to work off some of the tension it immediately caused.
Be back in town tomorrow. Be at compound at 11pm. I want a show.
Yeah.
It’s time Maggie knew about what I did for a living and how that connects me to her abuser.