I certainly wanted to make the best of it, so I brought her out to The Deck. We hadn’t fucked out there before, and as I watch the video of what we did last night, I think it might have been the most intimately erotic thing we’ve done together. More so than me eating her out in The Orgy room while men held her legs, or fucking her with Kynan.
I simply pulled her out there, her sexy heels clacking on the clear, acrylic see-through flooring. Everyone’s eyes were on us and I didn’t need to look around to know that.
I felt it.
Everyone wondering why Jerico Jameson was interested in this girl.
What was so special about her?
I was trying to figure that out myself, almost the entire time I was on The Deck with her.
When I pulled her right up to the acrylic wall that let us see the glitter of Vegas but didn’t let the rest of Vegas look in, I turned her so the front of her body was pushed up against the glass.
I wondered about the special hold she seems to have on me as I pulled her dress up around her hips, pressed my body against hers so she was sandwiched between me and the wall, and then slipped my fingers into her underwear and got her off quickly.
You’d never know by the video that such deep thoughts were running through my head. Especially not when she came beautifully on my fingers, then I quickly opened my pants, freed my cock, and put a condom on. Granted… my mind went blissfully blank when I drove into her from behind while she stood pressed against the wall. Her palms were spread on the acrylic, fingertips trying to dig in. Her head was turned, cheek resting against the coolness, and she groaned as I moved slowly in and out of her. My legs were slightly bent to give me better upward momentum, and while I fucked her slowly, I did it deep. Every drive into her pussy, my hips rocked under and my ass muscles clenched violently.
I’m amazed as I watch that my hips have that much flexibility, but when I think about how good she felt around me, I know my body was reacting on its own instinct to maximize every single feeling between us.
Yes, it was the most intimate sex we’d had and we were fully clothed. But it revealed a few truths. One, Trista definitely has some type of hold on me. Funnily enough, she doesn’t even know it and I’ll not admit it. Two, not once last night as I slowly fucked her on The Deck did I get a rush out of doing it in front of other people. They all melted away, and I didn’t think about it at all. I only cared about how wet Trista was and how she made these cute little panting sounds as she rotated her hips, trying to encourage me to go faster. Even as I slid out of her after a massive orgasm that left my knees shaking and smoothed down her dress before I zipped up, I didn’t think about us being in the sex club.
There was only me and her.
“Fuck,” I curse as I realize something’s happening to me that is beyond my control. I tap on a key to stop the video playing and extract the DVD from my laptop. It’s a compilation of the greatest moments between Trista and me. While this would certainly make Jayce’s eyebrows raise, it’s nothing compared to the spectacular footage of her swallowing my cock while Kynan fucked her from behind.
“Jesus fuck,” I mutter a second curse and toss the DVD on top of a stack of printed pictures taken from the video, most of them impressive quality. There’s no doubt it’s Trista being defiled in a dozen different glorious ways.
My stomach churns at the thought of turning these over to Jayce. He’ll be disgusted, think horrible thoughts about his sister. He’ll be beyond furious with me, but that’s what I want, right? To dig the knife in. To get my revenge. To cause him the deepest kind of pain.
With a sigh, I pick up the pile of raunchy revenge. I push out of my chair and walk over to the mahogany built-in that runs the length of my office. It has cabinets along the bottom for storage of business documents, which are locked, and open shelving on the top hutch where I have displayed various knickknacks, photos, and objet d’art the designer picked out. And in the center, there is a large open space that exposes the wall behind. A framed print of Ansel Adam’s famous photograph of the Snake River in Wyoming hangs there. It was a gift from Bridger when The Wicked Horse Vegas opened.
I pull on the left edge of the frame and it swings away from the wall on hinges, exposing a safe behind. It was a stupid touch to put in when the club was built because I don’t have anything that secretive or expensive to protect within this office. I’ve never even locked it and long forgot the combination, knowing my office was secure with the digital security system on it.
I’m going to put it to beneficial use now.
To hide dirty videos and photos of Trista and me.
I throw them inside, shut the safe door, and swing the picture shut.
Shut it all out for now.
Turning, I head to the door and pull the black tuxedo jacket off the hanger before I slide it on. My tie is already in a state of perfection. It’s time for me to pick up Trista for an evening away from The Wicked Horse.
?
Trista lives in a neighborhood that sits in between middle and low class. When I pull my Range Rover into the short, concrete driveway, I take in the small bungalow house that can’t be more than twelve-hundred square feet total. There’s a “For Sale” sign out front, and it surprises me. Trista hasn’t mentioned she was selling her home, and this kind of bugs me. Since I learned about her niece, I’ve come to know a little more about her because well… in between the fucking, there’s been some talking.
I know she dropped out of college in the middle of her sophomore year because she just didn’t like it, that she hates raw coconut but toasted is fine, and she worked for a douche of a dentist for years who fired her when she had to miss work because of Corinne’s surgery. Trista likes goofy reality shows like The Bachelor and Naked and Afraid because she says they’re so ridiculous they make her laugh, but the only movies she’ll watch are science fiction or fantasy because it’s worth the price of a ticket to be transported out of reality for a little bit. Fuck… I know she won a spelling bee when she was in third grade over the entire middle school, but I don’t know why she’s selling her house.
I make my way up to the front door. It’s still light enough outside to see, but the porchlight is on anyway. I’m not nervous in the slightest, because I keep telling myself this isn’t really a date. I have a black-tie function to go to tonight. When I asked Trista to go with me, it was in lieu of working at The Wicked Horse tonight. It’s part of her employment with me, so absolutely nothing to be nervous about.
Nope.
Don’t care I’m meeting her mom and niece.
I barely knock on the door twice before it’s swung open and I’m looking at Trista’s mom. They look unbelievably alike although her mom’s face is slightly aged and she’s a little curvier. But past that, the resemblance is astonishing. At least Trista will know she’s going to be a knockout when she’s her mom’s age, which I guess would have to be early fifties.