I’d helped him for a bit, organizing sleeping bags, ensuring the water jugs were full. Before any of the men who were on the trip arrived, he’d kissed me one last time and sent me on my way, patting my ass as he did so.
And now I was headed toward Cy and his ranch, a smile on my face, and an ache in my pussy.
One thing I hadn’t considered when agreeing to a fun threesome was how my body would be sore in ways and places I never imagined. Muscles ached, my pussy was a little tender from their very big dicks. Cy wasn’t gentle, and that was A-OK by me. He was crazy bossy. No, he was a dominant. I doubted he’d ever been to a sex club or was into BDSM or anything, but he definitely had wanted me to submit. He’d given me every opportunity to say no, but there hadn’t been, for one second, a moment where I would have.
I wanted to be dominated. I wanted him to tell me what to do. I wanted him to spank my ass for being bratty. I wanted his dirty words, his dirty actions.
I wanted to submit. To give him my power. My accident had taken it away from me and I was lost. Out of control. The rush I got from winning a race, flying down the mountain at ridiculous speeds was like an orgasm. Like one. The absolute thrill. The intensity, the focused mind. Everything disappeared but the hill and me and my skis.
But then I wiped out. And that craving for control was gone.
And giving it to Cy obviously wasn’t keeping control. I gave it to him. But that had been my choice. I’d wanted him to take over, to lead, to tell me what to do because I didn’t know anymore. And besides the orgasms… god, they’d been incredible, he and Lucas made me whole again.
Crazy? Absolutely. I didn’t completely understand it myself, but I craved more from Cy. It wasn’t a downhill race, but it might just be better. Was it stupid to keep this going? Definitely. I was only going to get hurt, at least my heart. The fact that I was eager to get to him was a bad sign. This was turning into more than just fun.
A song I liked came on the radio and I turned it up, sang along. I was in the middle of nowhere on a two-lane road, the grasses a golden yellow from the cold weather. A dusting of snow blanketed everything, a reminder to me that my time was up.
I couldn’t ignore the winter. I couldn’t ignore the approaching race season any longer. Mark had been right. It was time to get back into it.
But why did I not have the same excitement I usually did? The anticipation? Why did the idea of packing a bag and getting my passport filled with foreign stamps make me… depressed?
I loved Cutthroat. It was just like any other ski town in Montana or the Rocky Mountains. I’d been all over the world, been to towns just like it. But it called to me.
I put on my blinker—even though there was no one around—and turned on to the county road. No, Cutthroat didn’t call to me. Lucas did. Cy now, too. Just the day before I’d taken this same drive not having met Lucas’ best friend. And now I knew him intimately.
There wasn’t just chemistry, but a connection. Was I driving to the ranch for that or for the really big dick and the guy who knew how to use it?
The radio went silent and I stared at it, confused. Then the dials on my dashboard dropped to zero. No speedometer reading, no oil temperature gauge. I stared, confused, then the car died. It didn’t sputter, just cut out and I rolled, quickly slowing down without any power.
I glanced in my rearview mirror out of instinct, then steered the old SUV over to the side of the road where it rolled to a stop.
“Great,” I muttered. The Land Cruiser had been my mom’s when she’d been on the race circuit. She’d driven me to all my junior races in it, and when she’d bought a new car, I’d claimed it instead of her trading it in.
I loved the SUV—although it was made well before the term sport utility vehicle was ever coined, hell, before I was born—but it was moments like this when I wished for something brand new.
Grabbing my bag off the passenger seat, I dug out my cell to call Cy. I paused, remembering I never got his phone number. I had no way to reach him. Lucas had his group of vets with him now, even if they hadn’t headed off on their overnight. I couldn’t call him.
Fortunately, there was cell service, and I looked up a tow company in Cutthroat… the only one in town. I sat playing a game on my phone as I waited the thirty minutes for the tow truck to arrive.
“Looks like you’ve got a bad alternator,” the guy said, letting the hood drop back in place and wiping his hand on a rag he’d pulled from his jeans pocket after he’d taken a look to see what might be wrong.
I was leaning against the driver’s door, staying out of his way.
“I’m not really sure what that means,” I replied.
“An alternator helps charge the battery.”
“So the car won’t run because no power is getting to the battery if the alternator is bad.”
He grinned, nodded. “You got it.”
The man had introduced himself as Mac. If I weren’t head over heels for Lucas and Cy, this guy could give them serious competition.
He should have been on the back of a Harley, not driving a tow truck. I was bundled up in a heavy sweater against the cool weather while he had on a black T-shirt with his towing company’s button up thrown over top. A serious five o’clock shadow didn’t hide his square jaw or full lips. And his gaze… penetrating, like he could see all the way to your soul. Yeah, he was that hot. To top it all off, his right arm was covered in tattoos. A full sleeve.
Bad boy to the extreme, except he seemed pretty darn nice.
“I’m Hailey, by the way. Hailey Taylor.”