Page 94 of West Bound
“Come up here on this bench.” I stand to make room for her. “On your elbows and knees.”
She moves into position, her skirt bunched around her hips and her ass up in the air, taunting me like a pretty little peach. I wish I could take her there, sacrifice her on that altar while she says my name like a prayer. But I can’t. I’d need more patience than I have left to take her slow and easy, working her up to take all of me. I want her to love it—love me—so fucking much she can’t forget. So much that she begs me for it the next time. We'll save it for a day we both need her to remember how good I can be to her.
I make quick work of my clothes and slide into her with a low groan. She clenches down around me, and my fingers bite into her hips as I start to move.
“Oh fuck,” she cries out and splays her hands, trying to find purchase on the pew as I take her deeper.
I don’t waste time fucking her slow or sweet. I take her like she belongs to me. We’ve both spent far too much time on the edge today. The room fills with the sounds of us, moans and muttered curses, skin on skin, and her slick little cunt working me to crest the next wave. I wish I’d thought to record her here like this.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Look how well you take me like this.” The praise has her cunt practically choking my cock in agreement.
“I’m so close,” she murmurs as she shifts her hips up to take more of me.
“Fuck me. Sometimes I think you’re so tight I won’t make it.” I curse, pausing to turn her over to her back, lifting her leg to my shoulder and nipping the inside of her ankle.
Her fingers slip down her neck and over her sternum. Her breasts glitter with sweat and the light of a thousand different refractions of blues and greens and golds from the stained glass. She uses the pads of her fingertips to tease her nipples, and they peak under her touch, her skin rippling with a fresh round of goose bumps as I take her closer. She’s always beautiful, but like this? She’s art, and I get a private showing of the rarest kind. Something no museum or reliquary could ever dream of having.
“Oh god.” She bites down on her lower lip and arches her back, rocking her hips against every stroke of my cock as she moans my name. “I’m close, but I—” I switch the angle I’m at, leaning down to tease her nipple before I scrape my teeth over the tip and suck hard. “Oh god. Yes, like that. Oh my…” Her words fade into moans; her sweet little cunt shivers around my cock as she comes hard.
I use my thumb, circling her clit to take her through a second wave as I pull out, using my right hand to finish myself off with heavy-handed strokes until thick streams scatter over her chest and stomach. Her eyes follow my addition to the artwork,and she runs her fingertips through the pearlescent splatters, dragging them through a rainbow of color. She streaks it over her left nipple as she throws her head back and arches into the last crashing wave of her orgasm, calling out my name as I bend to run my tongue over the pink tip of her breast.
I make easy work of the cleanup as her breathing slows, lapping up the mess I’ve made—the taste of us melding together on my tongue. Her fingers run absently through my hair, brushing it off my forehead and curling the ends around her knuckles while she watches me.
“Am I forgiven for the rope?” she whispers.
“Until the next time you do it.” I kiss my way up her chest.
“I’m not sure I’ll risk a next time.” She grins down at me, and I lift my head to meet her eyes. She rolls her lower lip between her teeth. “Seems dangerous to taunt a wolf like that.”
“Let’s hope you do, little red.” I smirk, placing one last kiss in the center of her chest.
THIRTY-NINE
Levi
“All right. We’re in.”I glance over the screens in front of me as they light up with the cameras I’ve hacked into in the governor’s home.
Zephyrine, Bishop—my latest acquisition to our team—and I are all in the basement of the Avarice, the casino and resort that Grant and I own. I keep all of my latest equipment here in one of the subbasements because it’s the closest thing we have to a fortress, and usually the most convenient. It’s not at the moment, but I can’t exactly do this work out in the middle of the woods.
But doing the work here means I had to bring Zephyrine to the Avarice with me, as she’s the most likely to be able to identify rooms and help me create a floor plan we can use to navigate the governor’s mountain home. She’s sitting next to me, her fingers playing with the gold cross on her necklace as she slides it back and forth and takes in the scenes in front of her. The home looks dead at the moment, with only one or two people walking thegrounds, but I’m sure it brings back memories seeing a place she hasn’t been in such a long time.
“He’s not there, is he?” she asks as her eyes scan the displays.
“Shouldn’t be. The copy of his schedule we have says he’s in Denver all this week.” Bishop scans his phone again as he takes a bite out of an apple, his foot propped up on a chair at the back of the room.
Bishop’s an old high school friend of mine who lived with us and worked for my father when we were younger. His family and mine never quite saw eye to eye, and our fathers had a tense relationship that went back decades. His family owned another ranch outside Purgatory Falls, one that had failed years before we sold our cattle off. When his dad turned to other sources of income to make ends meet, it sent him on a collision course with the Horsemen. But it didn’t stop my father from taking Bishop in when his father kicked him out, as long as I was willing to vouch for him.
He joined the military when I went to college. I tried to reach out a few times, but he disappeared like a ghost, and rumors of his death circulated a few years after that. When we looked for him when my parents died, he was declared missing and presumed dead. So when I heard his name mentioned when I was looking for mercenary help earlier this year, I made a mental note to find out if it was really him. He came well recommended but completely off book. So I spent last week tracking him down in earnest through an elaborate game of cloak-and-dagger and was relieved as fuck when it really was my old friend who met me in the back of a dark biker bar up in the Springs.
He all but jumped at the chance to run this job with me, shrugging off how god awful the odds were and completely unbothered at how little of a plan we have to go on. Like it's fate, he has connections for a pilot and a medic who are up for the challenge too. So now the three of us are in the casino’sbunker, working through the hand-drawn map that Zephyrine created from her memories and matching it with the view from the security cameras I managed to hack on the property. We’ll need to use it to plan our heist and memorize it well if we have any hope of getting out in one piece.
“This is the main living room,” Zephyrine speaks up again after she’s had some time to study the screens. “This hallway over here is this one. It leads into the kitchen. There’s a butler’s pantry behind it that has a stairwell to the basement.”
“Is there another stairwell?” Bishop asks.
“Yes. Three of them. One at the back of the house. One in the butler’s pantry, and another is at the main stairwell in the side entry near the garage. It leads up to the second floor and down to the basement,” she explains.
“Perfect. The more entries and exits, the more likely we are to get out of there alive.” Bishop furiously scribbles notes on the tablet in front of him.
