Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
He had gotten less weird around me, but he still didn’t talk to me much. At least not like he used to.
When I reached the tact door, it was open, and I hurried in to go get my things, anxious to get outside. My helmet and boots were there, but the crop wasn’t. After slipping them on, I looked around to see if it had been misplaced. With no luck there, I gave up and made my way across the rows of stalls to the other end of the stables to the tact room where extras and new unused equipment was held. I’d only been there once, when I had been given the tour the first time.
Hopefully, my crop showed up, but until then, I could use one of the extras they had available. Just as I reached the door, I heard a noise that was muffled too much for me to be sure what it was. Reaching for the knob, I turned it and walked into the room only two steps before the air in my lungs felt like it had been sucked out.
Unable to take another step forward or backward, as if my feet had been superglued to the floor beneath them, I stood, looking at a completely naked woman with her hands tied up with a rope that hung from the ceiling. Behind her, with one of his hands covering her mouth and the other gripping her hips, Thatcher stood, equally naked. His bare ass flexed as he thrust his hips.
Both sets of eyes turned to me, and I wanted to run, but again, my feet seemed to not be cooperating. Thatcher released her and stepped back away from her body. My eyes fell to his rigid condom-covered erection before I could stop myself. The rest of his body was as perfectly formed as his chest, back, and arms were.
“FUCK! Don’t stop! I was about to come!” the blonde cried out in a throaty voice, not at all concerned that I’d walked in on them.
The sick, painful tightening in my stomach and chest weren’t pleasant.
My eyes snapped up from Thatcher’s penis to see his face, and the fierce expression on it was apparently what I needed to be released from my frozen state. I turned and ran. A lump formed in my throat, and I hated that it was affecting me like this. I had known Thatcher had lots of sex with curvy, gorgeous women all the time. But I’d never witnessed it. That was different.
Needing to get outside, where there was fresh air and I might possibly be able to breathe again, I didn’t speak to anyone as I rushed by. Barreling out of the front entrance to the stables, I crashed into a hard chest and would have ended up falling on my ass if Sebastian hadn’t grabbed me by the arms to steady me.
His concerned look almost broke me. The tears were right there, waiting to embarrass me.
“Whoa,” he said gently, and I wished he would stop being so nice. I could not cry. That would be horrible. I might never recover from it. “What happened?”
I took a deep breath and reached down deep, grabbing at any strength I could muster to calm down and be normal. So, I’d walked in on Thatcher having sex. I was sure most of them, if not all of them, had done the same thing. He did it a lot. He didn’t lock the door either, it would seem. Why had his butt been tanned? God! Why was I thinking about his butt? I had to shake this off.
“Nothing,” I said, then shook my head. “I mean, clearly, something.” I added a laugh then, hoping to make this a ha-ha funny moment and not a cringey one.
Sebastian stood there, still holding my arms, studying me like he could read whatever was wrong on my face.
“I couldn’t find my crop,” I said. “So, I went to get an extra.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened immediately, and I felt his hands flex before they eased up on their hold. “You went to the extra tact room?”
I nodded.
He knew. I guessed this wasn’t the first time someone had walked in on Thatcher screwing in there. That didn’t make me feel better. It should, but it didn’t. It made it worse.
“Take your hands off her.” Thatcher’s voice carried from inside the stables.
Sebastian’s hands dropped from me, but he glared over my shoulder at his brother.
“Go to the track, Capri,” Thatcher ordered.
I stepped around Sebastian, trying not to look back at Thatcher and failing. My will to act like I was as unaffected as he was about all this sucked. I turned to see him wearing a pair of jeans, unbuttoned, no shirt, and no boots. There were claw marks on his side and under his pierced nipple. I jerked my gaze off him, not wanting to think about how and why they had gotten there.