CHAPTER 7
Walsh
I’ve been coming to The Wicked Horse ever since it opened a little over two years ago. I forged an easy friendship with its owner, Jerico, and it absolutely suits my lifestyle.
For as long as I’ve been sexually active, I’ve always been dirty.
I mean, really dirty.
My ex-wife Renee can attest to that, and it was really the one thing that held the marriage together for as long as it did. She was a wildcat in bed. While The Wicked Horse wasn’t around when we were together, she would have totally been a swinger there with me. I know this because we swung with other couples on occasion.
Once I got divorced, I found dating to be just fucking hard. It was more effort than it was worth. I didn’t want to get married again, but not because Renee destroyed me or anything. In fact, our parting was quite amicable. It’s just that marriage didn’t serve any purpose. At least my marriage to Renee hadn’t other than having constant and amazing sex whenever I wanted it. After my divorce, I wasn’t lonely. I didn’t feel the need to share my deepest thoughts with a woman. I was completely fine and happy having casual sex without commitments.
So coming to The Wicked Horse has always been a treat. It’s never been repetitive. It’s never been dull. It’s been quite fulfilling as a matter of fact, which is probably why I come at least five out of seven days of the week.
But tonight, as I ride the elevator up, my stomach is cramped into a painful knot. I’m here two hours earlier than I normally come, and only because I need to know if Jorie is really going to take advantage of this place again.
I swear I’m not going to interfere, but I need to know.
“Good evening, Mr. Brooks,” Larissa says from behind the podium with a welcoming smile. She’s a great fuck, and I’ve had her multiple times. I’m not the kind of man who only has a woman once. If she’s sweet and makes me come, I’ll hit it again.
And again.
I just won’t buy her dinner for it first.
“Larissa,” I say somewhat stiffly because I’m tense as hell. I should ask her to take a break and suck my cock, but that wouldn’t even scratch the surface of my anxiety.
I head to the bar and order two fingers of whiskey, house brand being fine because I do nothing more than shoot it down. The bartender eyes me warily since I never drink alcohol here. With a hiss, I set the glass down and make my way to The Orgy Room to see if Jorie is really going to do what she promised.
♦
Two hours later, she still hasn’t shown, and I don’t know whether I’m relieved or pissed. I mean… of course I’m relieved she’s not here. I don’t want her randomly fucking guys because she needs to prove to her ex-douche that she’s sexy and desirable. I’m happy she hasn’t walked through those doors.
But I am slightly pissed I’ve wasted two hours of my life because I let Jorie pull my chain.
No, wait… she yanked my chain and she did it hard.
She did it to prove I’m invested in her and she did it brilliantly, little minx. I have it in my mind that the next time I see her, I should bend her over my lap and turn that pale skin bright red with the palm of my hand.
No, wait… not going to see her again. We’re done. If I were to put her over my lap and spank her, that would most definitely lead to me slipping a finger inside to see how much she loved it and then that would lead to us tearing each other up.
I’m sure of it.
My eyes roam around The Orgy Room where I’ve been waiting for Jorie to appear. There’s a chance, I suppose, she went to one of the other rooms to seek her pleasure, but I doubt it. She mentioned this room specifically because the little smartass knew I’d show. Her not showing means she has the power right now, and I don’t like that one bit. Control is my middle name.
I should just fuck someone in here. There’s not a woman in here who would say “no” to me and I’ve had several approach who I’ve turned down. Pick a girl, pound one out for both of us, and get gone. Easy plan.
Except I’ve sat here in this room for almost two hours, watching all kinds of filthy stuff going on, and while my dick isn’t dead, it hasn’t reacted appropriately. It’s been semi-hard for sure, but it’s not been aching for release. I have a moment of panic that maybe I’m getting too old for this shit, or that I’m just not turned on by this stuff anymore, which means my sex life will be on the decline.
But I immediately push that thought away. I have no choice but to because Jorie struts into The Orgy Room, and my dick goes rock hard. She’s wearing a denim mini-skirt that’s barely covering her goods, black ankle boots with a heel so high I’m not sure how she walks, and a white halter top that’s so thin her hard nipples are poking through.
Fuck.
I involuntarily push my palm down onto my dick, not to rearrange it, but to try to force it into submission.
No luck.
Her eyes scan the room slowly… leisurely. They cross over me, and she sees me standing there because she gives me a slight smile and a nod of greeting before continuing her perusal. She doesn’t look back my way, and that fucking pisses me off so badly my feet are moving before my brain tells them to.
As I cross the room, Jorie’s eyes seem to focus on something, so I look that way.
A man, lounging provocatively on one of the couches, beckons her closer. She smiles at him and moves his way.
Oh, hell no.
I cut across toward her on the diagonal, hurdling one of the low chaises to stand in front of her ten feet before she reaches the guy.
“Not going to happen,” I tell her firmly as she’s brought up short.
Jorie smiles up at me, and that black hair with her bangs right over those green eyes makes a startling effect. They remind me of the snake in The Jungle Book, the way it hypnotized that little boy. Jorie used to make Micah and me watch that with her over and over again. I hated that stupid movie but right now, the memories make me want to smile.
“Good,” she says as she steps in close to me, placing a hand on my stomach. “You’ve come to your senses.”
Christ, it kills me, but I take her hand in mine and push it gently off. “My senses are the same as they were this morning. Nothing’s changed. You’re just not going to be using this club to get your rocks off.”
“Well, that’s fine if you don’t feel any differently,” Jorie says calmly and makes a move to step around me. “But you have no control over me. I can do whatever I want in this club.”
Fury rages through me that she’s so cavalier about this. She doesn’t seem put out at all that I’m not interested in her that way, but that rage is nothing compared to what I feel at the thought of some random dude putting his hands on her.
“Jorie,” I warn, and I swear it’s the same tone I used once when she was little and was getting ready to touch the outdoor grill my dad was cooking on.
She turns fully to me, and I can’t help but notice the way her breasts sway under the material of her top as she does. I want to fucking bite them.
“You can either fuck me or I’m getting it from someone else tonight,” she says resolutely.
My cock is jumping up and down yelling, Pick me, pick me. “I don’t think of you that way.”
Jorie rolls her eyes because she knows that’s as ludicrous a statement as it sounds.
“But you have thought of me that way,” she says, reminding me of something that shames me greatly. Tilting her head slightly, she asks, “Tell me, Walsh… how old was I? What was your dirty thought?”
I don’t answer. I refuse to answer.
“Want to know a secret?” she asks.
I keep my mouth firmly clamped shut.
She leans in and whispers. “I’ve had dirty thoughts about you before… when I was younger. Lots of them actually.”
My balls start tingling. She thought of me that way before?
“Back when I first started, um… discovering things about my body,” she continues in a husky tone. “When I’d lay in bed at night and touch myself.”
Jesus fuck.
Her eyes study me carefully, waiting to see some reaction. I don’t show it, though. I don’t let her see I want her so badly that I’d sell my soul to the devil right now just sink to my cock an inch inside her pussy. Clamping down hard on my conscience for stability, I refuse to let myself be baited into something I’ll regret again, no matter how good it will feel getting to that regret.
Realizing she’s not getting the reaction she wants, she gives a nonchalant shrug and sidesteps me, her intent to head to the man she was originally walking toward.
I turn and watch her take a step, then another.
One more, and I’m filled with a dire urgency to prevent her from doing this.
No… filled with a need to prevent her from doing this with anyone but me.
It only takes me two paces before I’ve got her hand locked in mine. She gives a small gasp as I pull her in the opposite direction toward the exit door.
“What are you doing?” she asks as she tries to pull away.
“I’m taking you back to my place.” I give a tug on her so she catches up to my long stride. “And I don’t want to hear anything from you about it. You want me to fuck you? Fine, but it’s going to be done in privacy.”
She doesn’t say a word, so I keep muttering. “Can’t believe you came to a sex club, for fuck’s sake. Or came back to one a second time. Jesus, Jorie… just… fuck.”
I think I hear her husky laugh and I swear I’d strangle her if it was true, but I grit my teeth and don’t say another word as we make our way back to the Social Room.
“Call down and have them bring my car around,” I tell Larissa.
“Yes, Mr. Brooks,” she says as I punch the elevator button. The doors immediately open, and we walk in. Jorie stands close to me on the ride down. Maybe I’m going crazy or something, but I feel like I can smell her lust. Or maybe it’s mine I’m smelling.
We reach the bottom floor, through the lobby of the Onyx Casino, and for the first time, I leave The Wicked Horse with a hard-on. My car is indeed waiting for me, and my driver opens the door. With my hand gently on Jorie’s back, I guide her in first. She moves to the opposite side. When I get in, I stick to my side, knowing if I touch her, I’ll fuck her before we make it back to The Royale.
In fact, I don’t even look at her.
She’s too much of a temptation.