The Road Back to Us

by K. Webster

  “B, it’s going to be okay,” she says softly as she reaches for me.

  I shrug her off and continue wearing a hole in her carpet. “It is not going to be okay! That means that, even though I had an A in his class, I’ll fail. Fucking fail, Care. That means I can’t marry you this summer. I can’t fucking whisk you away to Vancouver.”

  Her bottom lip quivers as she crawls into her bed, diving under the covers.

  Fuck.

  After kicking my shoes off, I stalk over to the bed after her and slide in behind her. “God, baby, I’m sorry. I lost my head. I’m just so fucking pissed off. We had plans. Now, they’re ruined.”

  Sniffling, she turns over to face me. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying, and I feel like worse of an asshole than Professor Fuckwad. I palm her cheek and lean forward to press an apologetic kiss on her lips.

  “Our plans are us. Don’t you see? No matter where we go or when we go, as long as we’re going together, that’s all that matters,” she says emphatically.

  I roll her beneath me and kiss her reverently. Whenever I’m in her presence, she soothes a part of my soul I never realized needed comforting.

  “I know, baby. You’re right. It’s the journey, not the destination. I get that. I just had high hopes of becoming your husband this summer and not this fall.”

  She whimpers when I press my now hardened cock against her pussy through our clothes. “Bentley Harrison,” she murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere, ever.”

  Her nails slide up my shoulders, and my eyes slam shut. As she expertly drags them along my skin under my shirt, I suddenly forget what I’m angry about. All that exists in my head is her. It’s always her.

  “Mmm,” I respond as I lazily thrust against her. We’re fully clothed, but I’ll soon fix that.

  “So we stay here during the summer. Consider us lucky. I’ll move into your apartment for three months and then we’ll head for Vancouver. Maybe God gave us three more months to enjoy ourselves before having to worry about careers and bills and all that other responsible crap,” she giggles, never ceasing the methodical circles with her nails on my flesh.

  I find her earlobe with my teeth and chuckle. “And with only one class to take, I suppose that’ll be more time to make love to you.”

  She moans when I slide down and taste her neck.

  “Care Bear, I’m marrying you this summer anyway. We’ll run off to Mom’s one weekend and get married. I’m not waiting for the fall on that one. The moment you begin sharing my bed, you’ll be Mrs. Harrison.”

  This time, I overtake her mouth with mine and don’t give her an opportunity to answer.

  “Do you think we should leave this cabin?” she questions, dragging me from one of my fondest memories.

  That night, we made love over and over again. It was that weekend we were married. And fortunately, I picked up a two-week intersession class and nailed down the A that was deservedly mine. We still waited until the fall to move to Vancouver and used the entire summer to enjoy being Mr. and Mrs. Harrison without any other distractions.

  “Leave? We have fire here. It’s safe and warm here,” I bark out as I lift up to look at her. “Why would we leave?”

  She frowns at me. “Because we don’t have food. Because, if we don’t at least try, we’ll die out here.”

  This time, I’m the one scowling. “Well, we’ll sure as hell die out there. You saw how fucking ridiculous it was when we were trying to hunt. We’d barely made it a quarter mile from the cabin. You were with me. There was nothing. No houses, no roads, nothing. It’s a damn nightmare out there.”

  Her eyes flicker over to the dark window. “Tomorrow, we can spend all day hunting, but by the next day, we need to consider leaving. We can bundle up and head north toward the fire smells. I’m sure there have to be some homes nearby. I don’t want to die, Bentley. I want to take our life back—together.”

  She firmly presses her lips together and cocks an eyebrow as if she’s waiting for me to challenge her. I’ve always loved it when she gets feisty. I can already feel myself thickening within her.

  “I’m serious,” she gasps in exasperation once she realizes I’m turned on by her words.

  I grin crookedly at her. “How about you let me make love to you and then we can talk about all this ‘serious’ bullshit?”

  My dick is now completely hard and I’m barely moving in and out of her. The moment I pick up speed, she moans.

  “Yes, okay. Keep doing that. We can talk later.”

  Unbeknownst to her, I’m going to distract her all night and put off the talk as long as I can, because a dark thought sits firmly in my mind about her idea.

  We’ll definitely die the moment we leave this cabin.

  “Are you ready?” I ask, letting my eyes roam over her.

  This morning, we slept in late. Neither of us had the energy to get up and face the day. But as our grumbling stomachs became louder, the realization that we need food soon dragged our asses out of bed.

  She yawns and shakes her head. Even sleepy and dirty and starving, my wife is beautiful. “Not really, but I know we need to do this.”

  I nod at her and open the door a bit. The snow is once again piled up, and I’m exhausted just thinking about wading through it. However, we make a break for the outhouse before beginning our trek.

  After three hours of nothing, I sit on a partially exposed, fallen log once I’ve dusted the snow off it. “Rest, baby.”

  Her nose is bright red, and her eyes are teary. I’m not sure if she’s been crying or the elements are getting to her. Either way, I want to hold her.

  She shuffles through the snow and plops down beside me. “I’m so hungry,” she pouts. A garbled sob escapes, managing to tear a hole in my heart.

  “I know. Believe me, I know,” I coo as I wrap an arm around her and pull her to me.

  Together, on our log, we sit in silence. The wind howls around us, indicating that more bad weather is headed our way. I’m tempted to flip the sky off, but that would require energy—energy I cannot afford to waste.

  The forest is eerily quiet. I wonder if we’ll freeze to death on this log and become one with the silent scenery.

  “B,” Caroline hisses.

  When I drag my gaze to her, I find her staring at one of the trees. And then I hear it.

  Chirping.

  Raising my rifle, I point it in the direction of the noise. Once my eyes settle on a few birds, my heart leaps into my throat. I’ve always been a great shot, but the weight of the rifle in my weak arms is making my hands shake. I take a deep breath and align my sights on one of the birds.

  Bang!

  Caroline shrieks and the birds take off. I’m not even sure I’ve shot one, but I shoot again, praying to hit one. I’m still recovering from the echoing when Caroline bolts from the log and rushes over to the tree.

  “Oh my God! He’s still alive!” she cries.

  I groan as I wade through the snow over to where it is. Sure enough, one of the birds, looks like a winter wren, is flailing around and chirping like mad. I didn’t get a clean shot and obliterated one of its wings but didn’t kill it.

  “Care, look away,” I instruct.

  “No, don’t,” she sobs and clutches my arm as if to stop me.

  I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, but it will bleed to death anyway. Let me put it out of its misery.”

  The moment she turns her head and gives in to hysterical crying, I bend over and scoop the bird up. Even I have to look away as I quickly break its neck. The moment the chirping stops, I tuck the dead bird into my pocket.

  “Come here,” I say as I pull her to me.

  She cries for a minute before her sobs turn into hiccups. Eventually, the forest is quiet again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  A sigh rushes from her, but she lifts her head to face me. “It had to be done.”

  I frown but nod as we make our way back to the cabin. The storm is quickly ascending on us and the wind is picking u
p. Not to mention I can’t feel my feet. We need to get back inside.

  “Go on inside and boil us some water to drink. I’ll clean this while you do that. Can you also boil some water for the bir—for the meat?” I question as we approach our refuge. Reminding her that we’re eating a bird seems like the wrong thing to do.

  She says that she will, but before she can get too far away, I haul her into my arms and steal her chapped lips with my equally chapped ones. I kiss her hard enough that I feel my bottom one crack a bit.

  “I love you,” I whisper into her mouth.

  We spend another moment kissing, this time gentler. “I know. I love you too, B.” Then she breaks away and heads inside.

  Shoving my hand into my pocket, I whip out dinner and begin plucking feathers.

  I WALK INTO the cabin and choke back a sob. Killing the bird was a necessity. It doesn’t mean I liked it though. But as my stomach rumbles and roils, I know I’ll eat whatever meat he can get from it. I hate that getting caught up out here has made me have to resort to straying from my vegan diet.

  With a sigh, I remove my cold, wet clothes and then lay them out by the dying fire. Bentley is still outside with the bird, so I rekindle the fire and locate the pot.

  I crack the door open and see him working away, his back turned to me. Quickly, I divert my eyes, scoop some snow beside the door, and pop back inside. I’m waiting for the second pot of snow to boil when he finally comes in.

  He winks at me but discreetly carries the bird in his hands and drops it into the pot. “There won’t be much meat because it was so small. But it will be something. I figure we can cook it in the water and drink the broth after.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and nod as he undresses. When he rids himself of the last shirt, my eyes skitter over his chest and the angry cut across it. It has scabbed over but still appears to be painful. My normally muscular husband is beginning to thin out. He requires much more nourishment than I do, so I worry about his health at the moment. Even though I hate that we are having a bird for dinner, I’m thankful for the find. And if I’m truly honest with myself, I wish it were something bigger, like a rabbit.

  He unzips his jeans, pushes them to the floor, and steps out of them. It isn’t until he’s as naked as I am that he lifts his gaze to me. This time, he eyes me hungrily, as if he only needs to survive from sexual gratification and I’m the only thing on the menu.

  Like two magnets drawn to one another, we step toward each other until he’s wrapped his heavy arms around me. I love the way he envelops me—the presence of my husband consumes and comforts me. His skin is chilled, but he radiates an inner warmth that warms me to my soul.

  “Care Bear?”

  “Yes, B?”

  “When we get home, we should just walk around naked all the time. Clothes are such a hassle,” he laughs.

  I smile. He said “when,” not “if.” His words give me hope.

  “When we get home, I’ll remain naked as often as possible, I assure you.”

  His hands roam my body until he has my ass in his grip. I whimper and slide my hands up his chest to his neck. We remain in our position until the cabin begins to smell mouthwateringly delicious.

  “Sit on the cot,” he instructs as he pulls away. “Tonight, we’re having a date.”

  I scrunch my nose up. “Where are our dinner reservations?” I laugh.

  He saunters over to the fire but flashes me a quick grin. “Cabane dans les bois,” he replies in flawless French. Cabin in the woods. Real clever.

  “Aren’t you a gentlemen,” I tease. “And what’s on the menu?”

  “Nous avons oiseau pour le dîner, mon amour.”

  I grin like a stupid, lovesick schoolgirl as my handsome husband prepares our supper. While in this moment, I can almost forget that we’re trapped in an old hunter’s cabin, planning to eat a forest bird so that we don’t starve to death. Instead, I can nearly imagine that we’re having a romantic getaway. A getaway where my husband has chosen me over his job and is incredibly sexy in his efforts to woo me.

  I gaze into the fire as he clatters about in the kitchen area, feeling nostalgic as I remember our honeymoon. Once Bentley and I married, after he made it big, we traveled a lot. I’ve been to the bluest beaches with the whitest sands, breathtaking ski lodges, and some of the most gorgeous cities in Europe. But our honeymoon was my favorite.

  “Do you remember our honeymoon, B?” I call out with a smile.

  He chuckles. “I’ve tried my hardest to make up for it ever since.”

  Glancing over at him, I sigh. He’s focused on his task of dividing up the food into two bowls so I allow my eyes to skitter over his perfect frame. My mouth waters, but it isn’t for the food. His flaccid—though still impressive—cock bobs with each movement he makes. I bite on my lip as an embarrassed burn creeps up my neck from checking him out so blatantly. Lord, the things I want to do to that man’s body.

  “I loved it. It was my favorite vacation,” I finally say.

  He cocks his head to the side and flashes me a wicked grin. “That’s because I spent most of it with my head between your legs.”

  “Want another beer?”

  His deep voice always manages to send a shiver throughout my body. I crack my eyes open and peek over my sunglasses at him. The sight of him dripping with water from the pool has me licking my lips. My husband—yes, husband now—is freaking hot. I still can’t believe he’s mine and we’re married now.

  “Yeah,” I murmur, but only because I want to watch him some more.

  He saunters over to the ice chest and bends over, giving me a nice view of his ass. The water on his shorts has caused them to mold to his body. I can’t say that I’m complaining one bit. When he turns to me, I’m regarded with a raised eyebrow. My eyes linger on his cock for a brief moment before I innocently smile up at him.

  “Will you ever be satisfied, Care Bear?” he questions as he pops the top off the beer and hands it to me.

  I smile but don’t answer him. After a long pull on the ice-cold beverage, I shake my head and set it down on the ground beside me. “Probably not. You’re going to have your work cut out for you.”

  His gaze narrows at me as he kneels down on the end of my lounge chair. I’m nearly catapulted out of it, yelping in surprise before grabbing onto the sides to keep from sliding toward him. He briefly looks over his shoulder and scans the empty pool area before turning to stare at me. Then his eyes skitter over my shred of a bikini and a hungry growl escapes him.

  I squeal when he pours his cold beer between my legs. “Bentley, you ass!”

  He flashes me a mischievous grin. “I’m sorry, baby. Hand me that towel and I’ll clean you up.”

  I sense a trick, but I toss it to him anyway. My eyebrows pinch together in confusion when he wraps the towel around his shoulders instead of cleaning me up. When he pulls the towel over his head and dips down to my pubic bone, I gasp.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss.

  But I know what he’s doing. He’s under the towel, yanking at the strings of my bikini, and a second later, his tongue is on me.

  “Oh my God,” I pant as he slides his tongue between the lips of my pussy. “Someone will see us.”

  He ignores me and uses his thumb to open me to him. I find myself quickly becoming an accomplice on his mission, because I slide my feet up the chair so that my knees are in the air. Then I drape the towel over them. Now, I can see him as he has his naughty way with me.

  My skin burns from having been in the sun all day, but all I can think about is the expert way he’s tasting me. How in God’s name did I get so lucky to land him as my husband?

  “Your pussy is always so ready for me, Care,” he says breathily against my clit.

  I nearly come from the sensation. “More,” I whine.

  His tongue darts out and circles the bundle of nerves pulsating for him.

  “More, more, more,” I chant out.

  He goes faster and harder, bu
t it isn’t until he fills me with his finger that I lose all sense of reality. Then the towel falls from my grasp, but I don’t care. All I care about is latching on to the orgasm that is so close.

  He’s nipping and sucking and lapping.

  All the while, I’m losing my sanity.

  This man controls my body so easily. I’ve never been taken to the sexual heights he takes me to. It’s as if we’re two small stars in the cosmic universe that, when brought together, explode with perfect ecstasy.

  “Yes!” I cry out, bucking and wiggling, needing more and less all at once.

  His free hand digs into my thigh as he pushes it up against my chest. I moan when his finger inches deeper than before. As he owns me with his mouth and his finger works me from within, his other finger slides over my other hole and I nearly come unglued. It’s only rubbing me because of the position he has to be in to finger fuck me, but it drives me crazy. Good crazy. My mind races with wonder as to what it would feel like to have him there too.

  The simple idea of it pushes me over the edge and I lose myself to my orgasm. Everything spins and tilts around me as I ride the blissful wave of pleasure.

  “Oh, wow, I love you,” I murmur.

  He lifts his head up and grins at me. His lips and chin glisten with my climax, and I swear he’s never been hotter than in this moment. I expect him to pull his finger out, but instead, he gently presses the taboo finger against the virgin hole. When I let out an embarrassing moan and gape at him with wide eyes, he winks at me.

  “All you have to do is ask, baby, and I’ll be there in a fucking heartbeat.”

  “What are you grinning about?” Bentley questions, snapping me from my memory.

  At having been caught, my eyes widen and I’m momentarily at a loss for words. “I, uh, was remembering our honeymoon. The pool was nice.”

  He explodes with a full-bellied laugh. “The pool was nice? Baby, we were at a cheap motel near our college. The pool was all of twenty feet from end to end. It was not nice. We honeymooned in a fucking roach motel.”

  I smile at him. “But it was perfect. Everything about it. Even when the manager threatened to kick us out for our public displays of ‘affection,’ it was still perfect.”