Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)
Sawyer Bennett
Prologue
Rand
I walk through The Silo, turning off the lights behind me as I go. Normally, this would fall to Bridger or Cain, but neither is around tonight. Bridger is attending a party out at the compound for the Mayhem’s Mission motorcycle club, which translates into fucking some free * unassociated with The Silo. While this is Bridger’s baby, I get the feeling that his “duties” here wear on him sometimes.
There are times it seems he actually hates “servicing” some people, but maybe I’m trying to read something into the situation that isn’t there. Regardless, he’s not here and neither is Cain.
He just flew back from Tennessee today, and he’s shacked up with Sloane. I’m sure he’s still hammering out the necessary apologies that woman deserves from him.
Cute couple though. I figured out of all of us dudes, he’d be one of the last to drop given his history with Rachel, but what the fuck do I know? I’m definitely unlucky in love, but I’m okay if it never comes my way again. I’ve got friends, a great job, and all the kinky fuckery I could ever imagine.
I snicker to myself, thinking about that.
Kinky fuckery.
Some chick said that the other night while Logan and I were both doing her, and we thought it was hilarious. She said it was a term in one of her favorite books, but whatever.
It totally describes what happens within the walls of this circular building.
I make my way down the short hallway to the exit, flipping down the switch of the sconce lighting and pushing open the door. The air is crisp and smells refreshing. Cleans the soul kind of good because sometimes when I walk out of The Silo, I feel like I’m tainted by the things I do.
But again, whatever. I might feel dirty at times, but some of the shit I dip my wick into also feels fucking amazing.
I pull the door closed and ensure the lock is engaged. Security’s become more important now than ever given that fuckwad Colton Stokes blabbed his mouth. Of course, on one hand, you could say it was a good thing because it brought Sloane Preston to our neck of the woods. Not only was she a fantastic fuck, and I hope Cain lets me in on that again, but it’s also made my buddy super happy. So maybe Colton just deserved an ass whipping instead of the murder I’d like to dole out to him for threatening our existence.
The parking lot is nearly deserted, The Wicked Horse having closed about an hour ago. The Silo is technically open twenty-four/seven for any members who want to get debauched, but the bartenders go off duty at the same time The Wicked Horse closes down at two AM. I’m the last to leave after getting a last-minute cock suck from Carol, one of the lovely purveyors of fine drinks. She toddled out not fifteen minutes ago with a tart goodbye. I should have returned the favor to her, but she owed me the blow job because she lost a bet last week on the Yankees’ game. She’s a transplanted New Yorker and I hate the Yankees, so I always bet against them, no matter the price of the potential loss.
My eyes zero in on my Suburban parked up near The Wicked Horse in the space closest to the slate path that leads from the back door over to The Silo. I click the remote entry fob and the lights flash, indicating the doors are unlocked. I reach for the handle, pull it open, and just as I’m about to step in, my gaze falls on a white Mercedes coupe sitting two rows back and three spaces over. I start to turn away and then do a double-take as I realize it’s Catherine’s car.
I know she left The Silo probably about half an hour ago after giving everyone a show tonight. Since her husband died last week, she’s been at The Silo every night, indulging in every wicked sex act you can imagine. Not that she didn’t indulge before, but for some reason, since the old fart’s death, she seems a bit more free-spirited in her pursuits. Maybe even doggedly determined to outdo herself every time.