Wicked Ride (28 page)

Fullness of heart, for sure.

But something else.

Life.

For the first time in years, my
life feels…
overflowing.

Complete.

I fuck Auralie slowly and
sweetly, a first for both of us. Seems like it’s
straight from a fucking fairy tale, but we both come together,
groaning into each other’s mouths, which haven’t lifted
from the other since I pushed my way inside her body.

When I empty myself in her, I
wait for that blissfully blank space I normally go to. That place
where sex usually leads me. A safe, insulated place where only I
exist.

Except now, it feels completely
different because I’m
not there alone. Auralie is right there with me. It feels so fucking
good that I’m not ever going to let it go.

Auralie

Three weeks later…

“Well, I think it’s
okay for Logan to call off his guard dogs,” my dad says in
exasperation.

“Dad,” I say in
warning. “Until Magnus goes to trial—”

“He’s in jail,
Auralie,” my dad points out. This I already know as he was
arrested almost two weeks ago after the prosecutor tallied all the
evidence from my dad as well as some other witnesses, including the
Ponzi investors. Because of the nature of the white-collar crimes,
all of Magnus’ assets were seized by the government at the time
of his arrest, so he was without funds to make bail.

“Yes, he’s in jail,”
I agree. “But he still has contacts out in the world, and
you’re the primary witness against him. So keep the guard
dogs.”

“It’s hard to run a
scam with them looking over my shoulder,” he grumbles, and I
have to laugh. I mean, it’s not funny that my dad makes his
living on the streets, but it’s what he knows. I’m trying
to change that though, and Logan and I are hoping to talk him into a
move here when he comes out to visit later this week.

“Dad, those guys don’t
care what you do,” I remind him. “They’re not
police. They’re—”

“Guard dogs,” he
inserts.

“Woof-woof,” I bark
at him, and he laughs at me.

I laugh back, and it’s
easy, natural and fun. I can do it because my life is set right
again, and I have so much to laugh about.

“Okay, Dad,” I say
into the phone as I hold it between my ear and shoulder at the same
time I’m trying to put new sheets on the mattress. It’s a
difficult enough task to do on its own, but it’s nearly
impossible when I’m on the phone, because Logan’s little
bed extends from wall to wall with no room to walk on either side.
Add in the fact I’m trying to carry on a conversation with my
dad has me grimacing in frustration as one corner pops off as I try
to pull another tight. “I’ll see you in a few days, and
we’ll have so much fun when you get here.”

“Can’t wait,
darlin’,” my dad says. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” I
mutter, dropping the phone from my shoulder where it clatters to the
floor. I then pull the one corner tight, crawl across the bed and
pull the other tight, before rolling off and holding my breath,
hoping the sheet stays in place.

The door to the trailer opens,
and Logan stomps inside. I look over my shoulder at him, and he
laughs.

“What’s up with the
look of consternation?” he asks as he comes up to stand behind
me.

I turn to look back at the bed
and warn him, “Don’t
move too suddenly… that damn sheet might pop off at the
slightest provocation.”

Logan laughs again, and oh…
I love that sound.

“I don’t know,”
he says between chuckles. “It looks pretty solid to me.”

“You didn’t just
spend the last fifteen minutes wrestling with it,” I mutter.

“Well, let’s test it
out,” he says.

Before I know it, I’m
hauled into the air, twisted around and then sailing toward the
mattress where I land with a bounce, then another, before Logan is
jumping on top of me.

He straddles me at my waist and
looks down at me with a grin. “See…
sheets held tight.”

“So I see,” I say
dryly.

“Let’s give them a
real work out, okay?” he says as his hands go to my shirt to
whisk it off me.

I giggle and make a half-assed
attempt to push him away, but then his hands are on my breasts and
his fingers are plucking at my nipples through the thin material of
my bra.

Sighing in contentment, I then
start to squirm under his ministrations, which are sadly brief
because his hands are at my jeans and they’re
being pulled unceremoniously from my legs.

I stretch like a cat as he crawls
back up my body and lays part of his weight on me, the rest being
held up by his strong arms locked at my sides.

“Your dad good?” he
asks as he peers down at me.

I nod as I pull my bottom lip
between my teeth briefly, let it pop free, and say, “He’s
excited about coming to visit. Thank you for buying a ticket for him
and putting him up in a hotel.”

“You smile at me like that
more often, and I’ll buy you the world,” he quips.

Turns out, Logan might not
actually be able to buy me the world, but he’s
far from a poor Wyoming fisherman. That night almost three weeks ago
when Logan came to me in New York, and after he confessed what he
deemed to be unforgivable sins, he told me all about his prior life.

He was able to talk more freely
once we got past the tragic circumstances of Carrie’s
death, and he clued me in on a few things. Although Logan had just
finished his residency, he had made good money. Add on his wife was
also a surgeon and that they were both fairly frugal, and that meant
they had a nice savings when they split up. He got half of all assets
in his divorce, including the equity when they sold their home and
those monies have sat in investment accounts getting bigger and
bigger while he led a meager life the last two years. It didn’t
make Logan super wealthy but it gave him enough money to hire
protection for me and my dad.

My heart contracts painfully now
as I think about Carrie. After that painful unloading that day, we’ve
talked here and there about his daughter. I think if Logan has his
way, he wouldn’t talk about it ever again, but I’m not
about to let that happen. He needs to remember the good times with
her, and he can’t do that when he shuts everything about his
past out. I’ve also encouraged him to reach out to his parents
and they’ve had some tentative talks via phone. They’re
pushing to come here for a visit but I don’t think he’s
quite ready for that yet. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to
bring it up whenever I can, because he needs to reconnect with them.
He needs to have them back in his life.

Sometimes he gets frustrated with
me for continually pushing him to confront his past, but I’ve
also noticed positive changes since I’ve been hounding him.

The nightmares for one thing.

They’ve
dwindled to coming very infrequently, and when they do come, I’m
there waiting for him to use me in the way that he best needs. It’s
never like it was that one night when he needed me so badly that he
couldn’t even take the time to get me wet, but rather, if he
has a nightmare, he’ll wake me up first from slumber, then he
wakes my body up with his mouth and hands. After that, he fucks me,
usually quite urgently but with no less care than he’s given me
since that day we reconnected in New York City.

That day…
it was the start of my new life.

Logan’s
too.

I packed my bags and returned to
Wyoming with him three days after he arrived, content to live in
Logan’s little tin
trailer for the rest of my life, although he’s mentioned a few
times perhaps we’ll move to a condo with a bigger bed and
better kitchen. While I still could never tell my dad everything that
happened between Logan and me, because that would include having to
clue him in on the terrible things Magnus had me do, I told him
enough that he was content with the knowledge his daughter was
falling in love for the first time.

And since I returned with Logan,
I’ve continued to
fall for my doctor-turned-fisherman.

Helplessly, deeply, irrevocably,
and forever in love with this man.

“Baby… that look on
your face makes me want to eat your pussy until you come about fifty
different times,” Logan growls, and I focus in on his face.

So intent.

So serious.

Filled with lust and something I
think is love, but I’m
not quite sure.

But one thing I’ve
come to realize over these past three weeks living my new life with
Logan is that he’s still hesitant to accept the good. He’s
still fearful it will be ripped away. He’s afraid to believe
that I’m here to stay.

So I attempt to make it easy on
him.

My hands go to his face. I rub my
fingers against the bristles of the beard he claims he’s
going to grow for the winter months. “I love you, Logan.”

He sucks in an astonished breath
and his eyes go slightly blank…
as if he’s afraid to believe my words and he’s distancing
himself from the pain of rejection.

“It’s true,” I
say, making my tone matter of fact while pressing my fingers into his
cheeks to make sure I have his attention. “I’ve gone and
fallen right down the rabbit hole of love with you, Logan McKay.”

He blinks down at me, and I see a
slight flicker of hope in his eyes.

“Yup,” I continue on
lightly. “No clue how it happened, but now that I’ve
given into it, I’m rolling with it. And it feels right, you
know?”

He gives a slight nod, and I beam
back at him.

“Be honest with me,”
I say to him seriously. “I’m not too crazy to be feeling
that, right?”

He doesn’t
hesitate in the slightest, just shakes his head at me. More hope
fills his gaze and it’s almost painful to watch, but I press
forward.

“And it’s okay if you
don’t feel the same,” I say neutrally. “I can wait
for you to—”

“I love you,” he
blurts out. Giving me a look of fear, he waits to see my reaction.

That breaks my heart that he’s
so out of tune with his own capacity for love, but I put on a
brilliant smile. “Well, of course you do,” I say
brightly. “What’s not to love about me?”

“There’s everything
to love about you,” he murmurs.

I watch, spellbound, as all the
apprehension finally melts away and he’s staring back at me
with nothing but abject devotion and tenderness.

My eyes mist up briefly, but I
know I can’t make
this moment too heavy for Logan. He’s still sensitive to the
newness of expressing emotion, and I don’t want him to retreat
or think on it too much. So I slide my hands around the back of his
neck and press my fingers into his muscles.

“Soooo,” I drawl out
as I wiggle underneath him. “I think you said something about
fifty orgasms.”

That’s
usually enough to get him focused, but the usual flare of heat my
seductive words would cause doesn’t come. Instead, he looks
down at me with that same mix of sweet tenderness with a slight bit
of unease because we just got done exchanging very important words
that cement our bond even stronger.

I tilt my head and silently ask
him,
What’s
wrong?

“I love you,” he says
firmly, enunciating the words so they ring clear and true. “I.
Love. You.”

I let out a quavering breath. My
insides turn to absolute mush as I realize that Logan is not only
telling me how he feels, he’s
also communicating to me that he is fucking owning these emotions,
and he’s doing it so bravely and without fear that it will all
get jerked away from him at some point.

“Oh, baby,” I
whisper, pulling him down to me. His head goes to my shoulder and his
arms lock around me. I hold him tight to my body, and I revel in this
man surrounding me.

This man who has invaded me and
now controls my heart.

My life.

“Auralie,” he says as
he turns his head into my neck. “I’m accepting it.”

“What’s that?”
I ask, but I already know the answer.

“That maybe it’s okay
if I have something great in my life.”

“Yeah, honey,” I say
with a smile on my lips and lightness in my heart. “It’s
totally okay to accept that.”

We’re
silent for a moment, just holding on to each other.

Then he shifts, lifts his head,
and peers down at me. “Now
I think I’ll hand out some of those orgasms we were just
discussing.”

I smile at him, unable to stop my
body squirming at the thought. “That’s
something I can totally accept too.”

Bridger

I walk into my cabin that sits on
Double J property, completely exhausted. I stayed at The Silo until
the last customer left because we had a packed house, and when you
get a whole lot of people doing freaky fucking, the hormones and
pheromones that circulate can make people crazy.

As it turns out, I had to break
up a fight between two girls over some dude’s
huge pierced dick, as well as stop a whipping session that got out of
hand because the fucker wielding the whip had no clue what he was
doing. He drew unnecessary blood on a woman that she didn’t
want and wasn’t prepared for. And although she was fully
consenting and it was in fact her idea to let her “date”
try some new kink on her, I knew she was going to be in a world of
hurt if I let it go on. The dude was pissed and threatened to pull
his membership. I grabbed him by the back of the neck, dragged his
sorry ass out of The Silo, and before I slammed the door in his face,
I told him his membership was revoked. The fucker then had the balls
to beat on the door. When he wouldn’t stop, I opened it up,
stepped out, and beat his ass. It wasn’t much of a fight as two
punches—one to his jaw and then one to his right kidney—had
him down moaning like a bitch. I’m sure he’ll be pissing
blood tomorrow. I had one of the male bartenders take him home with
strict instructions to impart to him he’d get more if he came
back on the property again.