Chapter 9
SHEP
“What?” I said, when I grabbed my cell off my side table and answered it. I was facedown on my bed, my pillow half over my head.
“You okay, son?” Pops asked.
I sniffed, sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Sleeping.”
It was Sunday and the shop was closed. Unless there was a call for a tow, I was off.
“Checking in about that text from yesterday. You still good with having a new employee?”
Right. The kid who’d graduated from the mechanic program at the community college.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said, flipping over onto my back, kicking my foot out from the tangle of sheets. I rubbed a hand over my face.
“All right. I’ll tell Hank. Starting tomorrow work for you?”
“Sure. No problem.”
“Good. See you this week for dinner.”
He hung up and I dropped the cell beside me, then flung my arm over my eyes to block out the daylight.
I had the lazy, slack feeling from a really good orgasm. I also had the pissed off feeling that I wasn’t getting any more.
Once we’d fixed our clothes–minus the panties–we didn’t have too much to say to each other. My brain had felt like a fuse had been blown and the only thing I wanted to do was take her upstairs and find some empty bedroom in this place and fuck her properly. And all night long.
Instead, Rocky’d caught up with us to collect payment.
His arm was wrapped around one of the women who was only in a pair of hot pink panties.
He’d held out his hand, like I had three grand in cash in my pocket.
Instead, I pulled out my cell and sent him the money through an app.
My business was solid, I lived in a small house on the family ranch. I wasn’t loaded, but I could cover it.
He’d pulled out a wad of bills and stripped a few off and handed them to Francesca. It was a stark reminder that while what we’d done had been mindblowing and pretty much life altering, to her it was just sex. For cash.
Before I had a chance to pull her aside and tell her what it meant to me–like a high school girl clinging to a disinterested jock after a quick fuck–Francesca’s friends had pulled her out the front door.
They’d all gotten fucked and gotten paid. Night over.
I’d been stuck there in the fancy-ass kitchen until Jackson and Cyrus finished up. No way in hell was I wandering around and finding their bare asses while they fucked.
I couldn’t even complain about what a fucked up night that had been, how what I’d done with Francesca was a shit ton more than sex for money, but I would have been a hypocrite. That’s exactly what it had been.
Sex. Money.
Other than getting in touch with Rocky, which I sure as hell wasn’t gonna do, I didn’t know how to get in touch with Francesca. Hell, maybe take her on a date. Do shit right.
That wasn’t happening, so what I was now was a guy who paid for sex and had the dirty panties to prove it.
I’d used a condom. I always did. It’d been a while, but I never went without.
Never. I got a taste of Francesca and knew she’d be mine, but I was realistic.
She’d volunteered to fuck for money and I’d asked her consent all along the way, but there was no question she didn’t sign up for a baby. Not with a stranger at a sex party.
Still, even though we’d been watched, it had felt like it had been only the two of us. I’d seen her and only her. Felt her. Breathed her in.
Since then, I thought of what it would feel like with nothing between us. If I’d fucked that virgin pussy raw. That had made me so fucking hot.
I had a girl out there thinking she was nothing more than a quickie and didn’t know what she meant to me. On top of all that, it’d happened at the Trout ranch, one of the only places in town my entire family hated.
What kind of Wilder was I?