by K. Webster
“That’s why you married me. Good girls always love the bad boys,” I tell her smugly as she stands between my legs.
I slide my palms up the outsides of her thighs and look up at my angel. The morning light comes in from the window behind her, and it lights up her blond hair, making her look just like the angel she is.
“I can be bad sometimes,” she assures me as she slips her fingers into my hair. “How is your cut?”
I’m distracted by her womanly scent and am nibbling through her sweater in an attempt to get at her belly instead of answering her.
“I’ll take that as you’re just fine.” She sighs in bliss when my hands move around to grip her bare ass.
“Can breakfast wait? I’d rather have you,” I breathe against her.
She makes a mewling noise but manages to free herself from my grasp. “I know, but we can do this after we eat. You’ll need your strength.”
I groan but heed her words. She thinks I need my strength for her on my cock, but I really need to get a second wind so I can attempt to hunt again. Yesterday, I was a complete fucking failure. I won’t fail today.
My knees buckle beneath me when I stand, and I’m thankful Caroline is within grabbing distance. She sends me a worried glance as she helps me steady myself.
“Maybe you should sit back down,” she whispers. The fear in her eyes is more painful than the angry cut across my chest.
Shaking my head at her, I let her go to step over to my jeans. On wobbly legs, I slowly put them on. By the time I shuffle over to the table, she’s sitting and waiting for me.
“Fancy,” I compliment as I take in the arrangement of the table.
Two bowls of beans have been divvied up. I don’t miss the fact that the bacon chunks are in my bowl or that my bowl holds more beans than hers. Two glasses are filled with water. In the center of the table, she placed a plate with two playing cards fanned out on top.
The king and queen of hearts.
She beams at me. “I thought our last meal could be romantic.”
The fact that she called it our last meal sobers me up, and I force a smile at her. I will find some fucking food for us if it’s the last thing I do.
When her smile falls, I see the hurt in her eyes. Before she can give in to the insecurities in her head, I reach over and take her hand in mine.
“Care, this is the first meal of many. Don’t quit fighting, baby.”
Her eyes find mine and she nods.
Neither of us fully believes my words.
“YOU CHEATED!” I shriek and toss my cards onto the table.
He lets out a full-bellied laugh that warms me to my core. “I did not fucking cheat. You’re a sore loser.”
My bottom lip juts out as I faux pout. Shaking his head at me, he gathers the cards and begins shuffling them again. Today, we spent all morning making love and then the rest of the afternoon playing cards, ignoring the grumbles in our tummies. I’ve seen the way he keeps eyeing his gun. I know he wants to hunt, but he can’t in his condition.
“It will be dark in a couple of hours. Maybe I should do a quick run nearby to see if anything is moving,” he suggests lightly as he deals the cards between us.
Neither of us wants to fight, but the lack of food doesn’t help a thing. I know we both need to eat, but I don’t want him to leave. He nearly died on me last time.
“I’ll go with you,” I tell him as I set my cards down. I don’t necessarily want to watch him kill anything, however, I can’t handle him going alone again.
“Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. You can stay here.” His words are firm as he mimics my actions and drops his cards onto the table.
Huffing out at him, I stand and scamper over to my clothes to begin dressing. “Too bad, Bentley. I’m not budging. Either we go together or we stay together.”
He grumbles, and I hear his chair scrape across the floor behind me. Expecting him to argue some more, I’m surprised when he yanks a shirt from the floor.
“For the record, I’m not fucking happy about this.”
I roll my eyes at him as I slide my leggings up over my thighs. “Neither am I. I am quite warm and happy in this cabin. I certainly don’t want to get cold, but I’m not staying here alone while you risk your life for us out there. The wind is picking up, and I feel like we’re about to be hammered again soon. I won’t have my husband getting killed in the elements while I play the waiting wife all alone. If we die, we do it together.”
After many muttered curse words, he nonverbally concedes and we’re soon trudging through the snow. It’s late afternoon, but the sun is hidden behind the dark clouds of yet another freaking storm. We won’t be able to stay out long before this thing is upon us.
Bentley stays ahead of me and occasionally holds a hand up to halt me if he hears something. When he thinks it’s an animal, he raises his gun and searches the landscape. If he thinks it was just wind, he lowers his gun and we keep making our way through the freezing cold.
Darkness quickly descends as the light from the fire in our cabin seems to get farther and farther away.
“We should go back,” I urge, but he once again stops me with his raised hand.
“Shh,” he says softly.
I hear a scratching noise, and for once, I pray that he’ll shoot the animal. Our survival is more important at this point, and I’ll have to swallow down my discomfort of abandoning my veganism right along with any meat we can get our hands on.
He lowers his gun and points it toward the dark shadows of the trees.
BAM!
I shriek and recoil as the shot of the gun echoes through the forest. He launches himself toward the dark and shouts at me to stay where I’m at. Several minutes later, I hear him cussing like a sailor.
“Motherfucking bullshit!” he growls as he trudges back to me.
“Did you kill it?” I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.
“No. I think I injured whatever the fuck it was, because there was some blood, but it’s long gone. Goddammit! I’m sorry, Care.”
Sorry? “B, don’t be sorry. Believe me, I’m not even sure if I’m ready to eat meat just yet, so it just delays the inevitable,” I tell him with a smile that is meant to lighten the mood.
He grumbles and stomps past me, back toward the cabin.
The sounds of wolves yipping and howling far off in the distance cause a chill unrelated to the weather to skitter down my spine. I can’t help but wonder if they just ate our dinner.
After a long trek back and a bathroom break, we reenter the warm cabin. Bentley has a dejected air about him and pouts in silence as he undresses. I bite my lip and tend to the fire so it will blaze and warm us up.
While I grab the pot to boil some water, I flick my gaze over to him. He’s naked and sitting on the cot. His elbows are resting on the knees of his spread legs, and his head is buried in his hands. As the flames reflect on his skin, he’s absolutely gorgeous. I know he’s angry and upset, but he’s an incredible vision in this moment. If I had a camera, I would capture it.
A smile curves my lips up as I remember the phone on the table. He checked it earlier to see if there was a signal. Of course there wasn’t and the battery was almost depleted, but I know there is enough left to snap a picture of him.
I quickly take the picture and then carry the pot to the door. Once I step outside to gather some fresh snow, I’m met with a blast of chilly air from the north. Icy particles bounce off my face, and I nearly scream in frustration that it is once again snowing. I hurriedly scoop the snow up and head back inside.
Bentley is in the same exact position and I’m so worried about us. What will happen if nobody finds us or we don’t find food?
Instead of letting these thoughts plague me, I carry the pot to the fireplace and boil the snow. While it heats up, I shed my wet clothes and lay all of them out by the fire. Finally, once the water is boiling, I pour the steaming liquid into two mismatched mugs and take them over to my husband.
&n
bsp; He mutters his thanks as he accepts the cup, and I sit beside him. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I reach my toes toward the flames in an attempt to thaw my frozen feet. When I see that my legs are hairy now, I frown.
“What I wouldn’t give right now for a hot shower,” I sigh before I sip my water. It isn’t a meal, but it’s warm and will fill my belly for now.
“Hmph.” That’s all I get from Bentley.
I slide a cold hand over his thick, muscled thigh and squeeze. “Cheer up, B.”
A heavy breath escapes him, but his hand covers mine and he blows on his mug. “I’m trying, Care.”
“I’m trying, Care.”
I stare right through my husband, who’s holding a dozen of the most exquisite roses I’ve ever seen. But it doesn’t matter. Not now. Not ever.
“What exactly are you trying?” I murmur. “What was wrong with trying three hours ago?”
He growls and tosses the flowers onto the couch beside me. “I told you on the phone I was sorry for canceling dinner. We had a big day at the office and auditors fucking showed up out of nowhere. There was no way I was getting out of there at a decent hour. In fact, they’ll be here all damn week. So you may as well prepare yourself to eat alone.”
A tear rolls out as I wait for a more heartfelt apology.
The dinner meant nothing.
The reason for the dinner meant everything.
I can’t believe he forgot.
“Noted. I’ll eat alone. Are we done?” I choke out as I stand, not making eye contact with my husband.
He stalks toward me, but with the couch behind me, I have no way to retreat from him. His delicious scent envelops me before his maddening presence does. I swallow thickly when he lifts a hand and swipes his thumb over my cheek, erasing the tear.
“We’ll never be done. Why are you so upset, Caroline? It was beyond my control.”
I bite my lip to keep from crying more and shake my head at him. “You’re their puppet. I forgot. Oh, and speaking of forgetting, happy anniversary,” I snip out bitterly. Shoving my fist into his other hand, I drop the cufflinks I had custom designed with his initials on them onto his palm.
Before I can escape, he snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him. His chest is warm on my back, and I have to keep from melting in his arms. I whimper when his lips drag along my neck and he kisses me softly.
“I didn’t forget, baby.”
One of his hands abandons me to dive into his pocket. He retrieves something and holds it in front of me. I hesitate briefly before plucking the ring from his fingers. Three stones glisten as they reflect the light of the lamp near the couch.
“Past,” he murmurs as kisses my shoulder.
“Present,” I say in a quiet voice as I slide it on the finger of my right hand. The present isn’t really my favorite, and I hate that the stone representing that one is the biggest. It seems fitting though.
“Future.”
I hope the smaller stone is a glimpse of us finding the simpler relationship we had in college.
“Happy anniversary, Care Bear.”
When his hand slides up over my breast, I close my eyes and finally give in to melting against him. For now, I’ll forgive him. I just wonder how many more times I can do this.
“If I die, I want you to eat me,” Bentley teases, startling me from my memory.
I burst out laughing. “I’m barely over the idea of eating a bunny, and now, you want me to turn into a cannibal? You’re insane, mister.”
He chuckles as he wraps an arm around my waist. “I’m serious. Don’t turn into Juliet and dramatically kill yourself if I die. You need to eat me to survive, and then you can get rescued by Harley. He can make you his mountain woman and you can live happily ever after.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Not happening. Like, ever.”
He sets his empty mug on the floor. “Good. I would roll over in my grave if you ended up with my brother. I’m not joking about my body though. My cock would make for a healthy snack.”
I giggle at his silliness and secretly revel in his mood change. The water has cooled, so I quickly down the rest of it before setting the cup next to his.
“Your cock is more than a snack. It’s kind of like a Thanksgiving dinner,” I joke.
“With make-your-own gravy?” He quirks an eyebrow up in question.
I laugh and swat at him. “You’re so gross.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
The next few moments are a flurry of madness as he tickles me and I attempt to escape. But as quickly as the playing around started, it abruptly ends. His wicked fingers change their pace and start to caress me, delicately dragging along my ribs southward.
“Care, it’s not fucking fair,” he growls out as he lowers himself over me.
I wriggle against him and urge him to enter me, but he doesn’t. “What isn’t fair, B?”
“This. Us. We finally figure our shit out and it’s all in vain. Without food, we’re going to die and it is all my damn fault!”
His tone is harsh, self-loathing dripping from his words. In contrast to his words, he pushes himself gently into me.
“Like this . . . This could be our last time. We should make love and have it be sweet, but all I can think about is fucking you all the way into the afterlife,” he groans.
His thrusting is slow and methodical. It’s making me crazy.
“Harder. Do it, Bentley.”
He shakes his head and pumps almost lazily. His eyes are glazed over, like he’s in another world. I can see that he blames himself for everything and it consumes him. The urge to slap the foreign look right off his beautiful face overwhelms me.
A week ago, I wouldn’t have dared to outwardly express my feelings. But now? Life’s too damn short to leave things unsaid.
“Get a grip, B,” I bark out before popping his cheek with my palm.
His dejected eyes flare to life and fire blazes behind them as he glares down at me.
“Fuck me,” I hiss.
His eyes dart back and forth, but his body is still. Indecision wars across his features, so I decide to help him make the decision. Raising my hand, I go to swat at him again, but he seizes my wrist and pins it almost painfully against the cot.
“Why, baby? Why do you want me to fuck you?”
I squirm to free my wrist, but he grips it hard enough to leave a bruise. “You’re angry. You need the release. Now, husband, please fuck me.”
He lets his gaze flit over to the fire. I can feel him giving up. So I slap him once more with my free hand.
When his head snaps back to me, his eyes devour my face with a mixture of fury and lust.
In the beginning of our marriage, he and I did some freaky stuff. But as our marriage waned on, we became somewhat tame. Now, though, I can see the wildness behind his eyes. He’s remembering those days just like I am.
“Are you going to make me slap you again?” I murmur with hooded eyes.
He yanks my hand and holds it to the cot as well. “You can slap me later, because you’re about to get fucked.”
HER NEEDY WHIMPER does me in, and I slide myself almost all the way out of her before slamming back into her. Her cries ignite my need to possess her body, so I release one of her wrists in order to feel the pulse that thrums through her neck.
God, she’s so alive.
I need to keep her that way.
I roughly tangle my fingers in her hair and tilt her head up. When my mouth finds her neck, I nip at her flesh while I pound into her. Her moans and whimpers are my undoing, and I fuck away my anger at our situation.
The unfairness of life.
I know I’m being rough with my gentle flower of a wife, but with the way her body responds, with the way she moans out my name, I know she wants it just as much as I do. With every suck on the flesh of her neck, I know I’m marking her.
Whoever finds our dead bodies will know that we left this world one hundred pe
rcent in love and devoted to one another.
With every thrust, the cot creaks and scrapes against the floor. That coupled with the roar of the fire has me so caught up in the moment that my breath is stolen from me when she comes hard beneath me.
The second her pussy clamps down on my cock, I lose it. All of my anger and frustration and fear pours out of me. I release it all. Our moments may be limited, but I’ll be damned if I spend the rest of them not enjoying each precious second with her—my Caroline.
I relax my body against hers and slide my elbows in next to her so I don’t smash her with my weight. Her blue eyes are twinkling as she regards me with a happiness I haven’t seen in some time. God, I’m such a fucking fool to have ever let her go.
And I did.
I fucking chose my job over her.
I chose Armani over her.
I chose a stupid-ass car over her.
Never again. I will always choose her over everything else.
When her belly grumbles, I feel some of the rage from earlier bubble up in my chest, but she calms me when she smiles. She lights the dark cabin up with it.
“What?” I question, my mouth hovering over hers.
She meets my lips with hers and kisses me. “You.”
I smirk at her and raise an eyebrow in question. “You like getting fucked, Care Bear?”
Her giggles infect my soul, and all of my anger is obliterated by it. I can’t help but grin back at her.
When her fingers skitter up my shoulders and she lightly scratches me, I relax and bury my head against her neck. This was always the way she comforted me when I would stress, and it’s the first time she’s done it in almost a year. I groan in delight as I remember the first time she had to calm my ass down.
“That motherfucker won’t let me retake the test!” I snarl as I pace Caroline’s dorm room.
In a short few weeks, we’re going to graduate and begin our life together. So I thought.
Well, until Professor Fuckwad threw a wrench in our plans.
When Mom’s hardware store caught fire, she called me, hysterical. I hauled ass out there to help her deal with the damages. As a result, I missed my final exam in managerial finance. Though I begged and pleaded, the asshole wouldn’t budge.
