Chapter 3

Logan

I walk into The Silo tonight tense and on edge. I spent all day out on the Snake River with a father and son visiting from Maryland. The boy was eleven years old and the first cutthroat trout he pulled out of the water had him screaming with excitement. I maintained a lucid smile on my face while I removed the hook from the corner of the fish’s mouth, trying not to show how much it hurt when the father reached an affectionate hand out and ruffled his kid’s hair with pride.

Those twinges of pain are to be expected, but are usually alleviated by the mere fact that my job during the summer and fall months consists of taking tourists out on float trips down the Snake River for a taste of some Wyoming fly fishing. While I certainly can’t speak for all careers and professions out there, I can say, without a doubt, this is probably the best job I’ve ever had. Even more so than fucking myself into a stupor at The Silo.

There is nothing more peaceful or restorative to my soul than three or four hours spent floating lazily down a meandering river with blue sky and gentle breezes washing your worries away. Now granted… that restorative fix is usually destroyed by my nightmares, but I can say that there are great chunks of my day that are pleasant and even happy at times.

Today was no exception, except that as the evening got nearer and I knew I’d be heading to The Silo, I started to get knotted up with unease. This was very strange because I go to The Silo almost every night, and I fuck almost every night. I love sex. It’s amazing and addictive and freeing and numbing.

So I try to do it as much as possible.

It is something that causes my steps to become lighter once I walk toward a guaranteed orgasm within that building.

But not tonight.

I walk in that door, and I immediately tense up with wondering what Auralie will be wearing. How will she smell? Will her hair be up or down? Nipples hard or soft? Will her eyes look at me with the same meaning as last night, and will I absolutely hate watching her touch and taste another man if Magnus so deems that to be the night’s main attraction?

I’m late getting here, perhaps even subconsciously hoping that Magnus will have already paraded her around before I arrive, but the minute I step into the circular opening of The Silo, my eyes are immediately drawn to the pale pink of Auralie’s dress.

I know what Magnus is doing. He’s playing up every bit of youthful innocence she possesses, and I have to say, it’s a brilliant move for most of the perverts in here that want to pop her cherry.

Who wouldn’t want to be the big, studly man who gives the virgin her first sweet orgasm?

I hate to break it to these fools in here, but I know something about Auralie that they don’t. I’ve never talked to that beautiful woman once, but I know that she knows exactly what an orgasm feels like. It may not be by a man’s cock if Magnus is to be believed, but she’s had a finger, tongue, or vibrator up against her tight bud before.

I can tell.

It’s in her eyes.

She may not like sucking the dick she’s had to suck, and she might not like having her flesh peddled—all things that are patently clear—but when she looks at me and she conveys that message of want and desire for yours truly, I know it’s because she knows how fucking good an orgasm feels and she’s imagining one with me.

God knows… I’ve sure as shit been fantasizing about it from my end.

Her slender back is to me with her long hair that is so black it shines blue hanging down her back almost to that rounded ass, but she stiffens slightly when I walk in. Almost as if sensing me, she turns her head slightly and lets her gaze roam the room until it comes to a complete stop right on me.

She gives me a soft smile, but the real meaning simmers in those cobalt eyes. You’re here. I’m so glad.

I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’m angry and frustrated by these circumstances, and I can’t help my return look. I’m not so glad. I can’t have you, and it’s going to kill me to watch you be given to someone else.

Sadness fills her eyes, making them shimmer briefly before they shutter closed. Her lips draw down, and, with a regretful sigh, she turns from me to listen in on the conversation Magnus is having with the Cleimdens, a married couple who are into some seriously kinky shit that includes the wife pegging her husband in the ass while he brays like a donkey. I hope to fuck Magnus is not going to let Auralie play with them tonight.

Turning away, I make my way through the crowd up to the center bar that’s circular like the room. A black lacquer top and contemporary chrome stools upholstered in buttery black leather are heavily occupied except for an empty seat right beside Bridger.

He’s sipping on water, ass sitting on the edge of a stool while his foot is propped up on the chrome railing at the bottom of the bar. He rests an elbow casually on top of the bar, but his gaze is pinned on Magnus and Auralie. He’s clearly unsettled by the couple as his gaze is wary, but I can tell by the loose set to his shoulders that he’s also accepting of their presence. Bridger does not try to curtail the kinky shit that goes on in this establishment as long as all participants are willing and consenting.

Knowing Bridger as I do, which isn’t all that great really because the guy is a complete mystery to most, I’m sure he’s thoroughly checked out this Magnus dude as well as ensured Auralie was a willing participant in his shenanigans, contrary to what her eyes have told me in the past.

“What’s up?” I announce my presence behind him with a slight clap of my hand on his back.

He’s not startled because he’s Bridger and nothing rattles him, so he merely swivels his body my way and nods. “Not much. What’s up with you?”

I shrug. Not much is up other than my blood pressure and feelings of guilt and anger over the thought of Auralie touching someone else tonight, but I’m not going to tell him that.

This Bridger notices all in one skilled glance because my emotions are painted clearly on my face, but he tries not to make a big deal out of it. “You seem tense.”

I don’t respond but call out to Heather, one of the bartenders, who looks my way. “Maker’s Mark… neat.”

“Must be tense,” Bridger comments. “You don’t ever drink on work nights.”

“I might take the night off,” I muse, trying not to get insulted by Bridger’s snort of disbelief. Me coming to The Silo and not getting my rocks off is just… unheard of.

“Seriously,” he prods at me. “What’s up?”

Taking the drink, I slug back a hefty swallow and set it back down, enjoying the burn. I shouldn’t even bother to engage, and I’m better served by walking out of here and staying away until sweet Auralie is sold off, but I can’t fucking help myself.

“What’s the deal with the virgin auction?” I say, carefully veiling my feelings by not even daring to mention I know Auralie’s name. I mean, it’s hard not to given that everyone is talking about her and her “owner” Magnus—which is a seriously stupid fucking name—but I don’t want him to see how affected I am.

Bridger’s head swivels back to Auralie and Magnus, and my gaze follows. I receive a jolt that makes my legs shake as I realize she’s staring straight at me. Time seems to stand still as she gives me that wistful look before turning away. Bridger looks at her for just a moment more, and then turns back to me.

For a moment, I can’t even move, but then I tear my gaze away from that pretty pink dress and look back to Bridger, trying to seem unaffected. I’m met with a highly arched eyebrow of curiosity.

“What?” I say with a belligerent tone. “I’m curious about them, that’s all.”

“Have you been fucking her?” he asks in a low voice, leaning in toward me. “Because if he’s advertising her as a virgin, someone’s going to be disappointed.”

“No, I’m not fucking her,” I mutter, but damn… I so wish I were fucking her.

“That look she just gave you,” Bridger says knowingly. “It’s carnal.”

“I haven’t touched—”

“Maybe not carnal as in physicality, but you two know each other in some way,” he presses.

Yeah, if you give any credence to silent, wordless communication, then sure… I know her. I know she doesn’t belong here selling that sweet pussy to someone, and that I should be the one to have her.

I think this all in a sullen tone inside my head.

“You don’t have enough money,” Bridger says flatly, but not unkindly. He’s just trying to make me see reality.

Oddly, I do have some money if I was so inclined to bid on a virgin, but no one here knows that and besides… it’s probably not enough for the amount Auralie will eventually command. So it will continue to sit in my savings untouched… just as it’s been for the past two years. As far as anyone here knows, I’m practically a vagrant who wanders the country in search of the next big rush. I’ve landed in Wyoming and stayed longer here than I have anywhere in the last two years, mainly because I love my job as a fishing guide and I love the unlimited sex that lets me have some measure of solitude. The fact that I live on a permanent campsite in a small tin trailer with wheels that I pull behind my beat-up old Ford truck lends to the air that I’m pretty much penniless. And that’s really how I exist. My income is nominal from my job, but it’s enough to pay for my campsite, put good food in my belly, and clothing on my back when I need it.

I don’t respond to Bridger’s comment about money, but instead I ask, “You sure she’s doing this of her own free will?”

“So she says,” he responds. “I talked to her at length, and she was adamant that she was.”

“So she’s selling her virginity?” I ask incredulously. I mean, who does that? Fuck… who still has their virginity at her age?

Which is?

“How old is she?” I ask hesitantly.

“Says she’s twenty,” Bridger says, and I wince. Christ… I’m thirteen years older than she is. Not a huge difference, but enough to know we’re probably worlds apart in our emotional mentality.

And she certainly could pass for twenty.

But damn… she looks like she sucks cock like a pro, and I remember what it was like when a twenty-year-old would blow me. Most don’t know what the fuck they’re doing at that age. Women are infinitely better in the sex department as they get older and their confidence grows.

“If I can have everyone’s attention please,” I hear called from across the room. The chatter slowly dies down. I’m stunned the announcement comes from Magnus, and he beams out to the patrons with a smarmy smile.

“What a tool,” Bridger mutters, and this confirms what I had suspected.

He doesn’t like the dude any more than I do.

“As you all know,” Magnus says as he picks up a lock of Auralie’s hair and brings it to his nose to sniff in dramatic fashion, “my pet here… Auralie… is a young and fresh innocent. Smells so sweet.”

My gaze slides to Auralie. Her face is tilted to the ground, her eyes shyly hiding from the spectacle Magnus is creating. The crowd presses in a little closer to listen to what he has to say.

“A select few of you have felt the pleasure she can give the past few days, but I want to offer up something different tonight. I’m going to choose one of you lucky men tonight who want to get a crack at something so sweet and pure that you won’t be able to think of anything else after. A chance to feast between the lovely Auralie’s legs and see that, although she may be virginal, she is more than ready to be pleasured by someone.”

Auralie keeps her face down, but I can see the pink tinge to her cheeks and the tightening of her jaw as he’s just offered her pussy up to someone’s greedy mouth. I involuntarily stand from my stool, but Bridger claps a hand on my shoulder and growls, “Stay out of it.”

But how can I?

When my mouth is fucking watering at the chance to eat her out.

My dick starts to swell at the thought. I give it a frustrated shove over in my jeans to get it out from behind my zipper, but I refuse to sit back down on my stool. Bridger’s hand falls away from me, but he stands up on high alert. I think he’s afraid I might run over to her, pick her up, and throw her over my shoulder like a caveman to jet out of here with my virginal prize.

Instead, I pick up my drink and slug the rest of it back, slamming the highball glass down on the bar top. Heather walks over and looks at me with eyebrows raised.

“Another,” is all I say.

In the meantime, Magnus, with his captive crowd and blossoming beauty ready to be devoured, looks around contemplatively at the potential customers he wants to milk for semen and money. Finally, his eyes come to rest on Jacob Johnson, a local lawyer who made a fortune suing pharmaceutical companies for several years while he practiced in L.A. The rumor is his last settlement yielded a twenty-million-dollar fee, so he retired and owns several homes around the United States. He spends the summer months here in Wyoming, fucking most nights at The Silo.

While he’s generally a nice guy and we once got our dicks sucked together by the same girl who alternated between the two of us while we shot the shit, I hate him right at this moment as he steps up to Magnus and shakes his hand with a grateful smile.

“How about you take her into The Orgy room?” Magnus suggests with a sweep of his hand that way.

There are only five people in there right now. Two guys lying on a silk mattress kissing and caressing each other, not in a hurry to get it on just yet. And a threesome going at it… guy fucking a girl from behind while she sucks another guy’s dick.

Been there done that.

Several times.

I watch as Jacob takes his hand and wraps it behind Auralie’s neck, giving her a subtle push toward the hallway that leads to the back doorways to the rooms. He pushes her along, not roughly but with command, as if he’s confident in his abilities. But I’ve watched him eat pussy before. He’s sloppy at best and won’t give her what she deserves.

My fingers itch to do something, but I’m not sure what.

Heather returns with my drink and I take it from her, knocking it back in one long swallow that burns my guts up but gives me a slight head rush. I don’t do liquor very well anymore.

She starts to turn away, but I say, “Hold up.”

Heather stops and looks expectantly at me. I turn to Bridger, who is facing me again now that Auralie has been led away. I tell him, “I need to borrow Heather for a bit.”

Bridger just shakes his head with a flat line to his lips, not denying my request but rather empathizing with my poor, fucked-up head.

“Go ahead,” he says, and Heather’s eyes light up.

She and I are very well acquainted with each other, and she’s a favorite fuck of mine. I jerk my head toward The Orgy Room and say, “Let’s go.”

“Absolutely,” she says with a grin as she walks toward the other side of the bar that houses the swinging pass through so she can exit.