Foreword
So, I have a toddler.
A little girl.
And we read every night.
It’s my greatest hope that she inherits my love of reading. She doesn’t quite understand what Mommy does for a living, but she knows I write books. She’s pulled some from my shelf to look at my picture in the back.
Now, if you’ve read me widely, you know I write in a variety of sub-genres when it comes to romance. I’ve done new adult, rom-com, sports romance, straight-up contemporary romance, sweet romance, and, of course, I’ve done erotic romance.
If you’ve ready any of my Wicked Horse series, then you know this is my erotic series. You’ll also know that this series is not “erotica” as it sometimes gets referred to. The Wicked Horse books are romances with erotic sex scenes.
Why am I even mentioning this?
Because I do worry about how women who write this type of novel are perceived, and I worry about the perception of the women who read these works. Despite the many steps forward we’ve taken for women to be treated equally, it is somehow deemed wrong by the public for us to even consider reading *gasp* books with sex in them. Forget about it if they have erotic scenes.
I hate this for my daughter. Of course, she’s not allowed to read these types of books until she’s of age, but I don’t want her to be ashamed Mommy writes it, and when she’s an adult, I don’t want her to be ashamed to read it.
Sex is natural.
Sex is fun.
Sex can be thrilling, adventurous, and even scary sometimes when limits are pushed. The Wicked Horse books will make your eyebrows rise at times. You’ll probably blush and sometimes think, “Oh, people really do that type of thing?”
Why, yes, they do.
If you’re wondering if I’m writing from personal experience, I have to tell you I’m more well-read and researched than a practical-application kind of gal. Still, I find writing these books to be fun and liberating. They are a way to escape to another world, because that is the point of fiction.
But the books in my Wicked Horse series are about more than sex.
Far more than sex.
There are complex characters you will love and hate. Plots with twists you didn’t see coming. Scenes that may have you laughing, and yes… some that will have you sobbing. Those are all the moments you’ll remember most about these books (but you will enjoy the sex scenes, too). This is why my books are not erotica. They are not designed for titillation to be the sole purpose. If that happens, so be it, but these are realistic love stories with realistic people, and as such, they are true romances.
Bottom line… I hope you enjoy, and I hope you can do so in an open environment where you don’t have to be ashamed to enjoy sexy stories. In fact, feel free to open my book on your Kindle as you sit right next to someone on a plane, a train, or in the hair salon, and be proud that you enjoy reading these works.
I know I sure as hell enjoy bringing them to you.
Love,
Sawyer
CHAPTER 1
Walsh
“Walsh… buddy, good to see you,” Jerico Jameson says as I saunter into the Social Room of The Wicked Horse.
We shake hands with a strong familiarity born from sharing a woman in bed or a good scotch at the end of an evening. Of course, that was all PT, or pre-Trista. Since then, his cock only fucks his woman, but he’s comfortable enough in his relationship that he’ll fuck Trista at the Wicked Horse sometimes.
Not going to lie… I enjoy watching.
“Anything special going on tonight?” I ask as I survey the crowd. I always come in late, usually no earlier than eleven. If I wait any longer than that, though, everyone’s pretty much worn themselves out for the type of fucking I like.
The deviant, dirty, and often hard kind.
“Same old.” Jerico grins as he rattles the ice cubes in his glass as he casually leans against the bar. Unless Trista’s here with him, he usually doesn’t venture from either the Social Room or his office.
“I’ll make something good then.” With a laugh, I lift my chin to the bartender hovering nearby. He nods and turns to get me a bottled water. I don’t drink alcohol in here.
Ever.
Not because of any unpleasant experience, not because I don’t like the taste, and not because I’m against paying fifteen dollars for two fingers of house brand. Merely because I like feeling the things I do here with all of my senses.
Alcohol loosens inhibitions. However, if my inhibitions were any looser, I’d be having kinky sex in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard in broad daylight. I like sex, and I don’t need to rely on anything to get me in the mood.
But alcohol can also cut down on the feelings. Dull the nerves in my cock, slow my heart rate, and muddle my brain. If I’m going to belong to a sex club, I sure as shit don’t want to lose any of those functions.
“How’s business?” Jerico asks as I wait for my water.
“It’s Vegas and I own a thriving casino,” I say with a dry grin. “How do you think it’s going?”
Jerico chuckles and nods in understanding, but then says, “I don’t get it. You’re one of the hottest bachelors in this town, so wealthy most think you’ve sold your soul to the devil, but then you’re here almost every night banging some anonymous chick. You’re at an age where you should be getting married and having babies.”
I just shake my head and smirk. We’ve become pretty good friends over the last few years since this club opened, so he should know that’s a ludicrous statement to make about me. “Dude… just because you’ve found the perfect woman and want to spend all your little swimmers in the hopes of making babies doesn’t mean every man feels that way.”
“Aren’t you worried about being alone when you’re old and decrepit?” Jerico jokes. “You’re what… thirty-five or so?”
“Thirty-six.” I take the bottled water from the bartender and push a twenty his way, telling him, “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, Walsh,” the bartender says. No clue what his name is, but everyone knows my name here. Not only do I put on a good show for the other patrons to enjoy, but I also tip insanely well.
Turning back to Jerico, I feel the need to defend my age and single status. “Besides… did the marriage routine once. Wasn’t all that great. And thirty-six is far from being on the verge of going into a nursing home.”
“I hear ya, man,” Jerico says, and then looks at his watch. “I have to get going. I happen to have a hot-as-hell woman at home waiting for me.”
“Have fun,” I say with a wink, then turn to walk toward the door that will lead me into a world of debauchery. I told Jerico to have fun, but honestly… fucking his honey on the bed missionary style is not my idea of fun. But more power to him.
As I weave my way through the crowd, I’m stopped a few times by people wanting to chat. Some are men who want to be like me, and so they act like foolish puppies in their hero worship. Some are women wanting a taste of what I can offer.
As many people who stop me, twice as many look away, not wanting to make eye contact. The men who do that are jealous because I get the pick of the women. The women who do it are terrified I might draw them in, and I’m a demanding son of a bitch when I decide to give you my cock. If a woman says “yes” to me, then she’d better be prepared for a wild and bumpy ride that could leave her sore and maybe even a bit bruised.