Kept by the Beast

by Sasha Gold

  “What’s Romeo going to say about your grant?” Denise asks after lunch as we’re leaving.

  I shrug. “I don’t really know.”

  “That rock on your finger could pay for all four years.”

  I glance down at the ring and sigh. It’s true. The ring makes me look more like the regular students at Stowe, instead of high-risk. Funny how I can’t get that phrase out of my mind. To me everything seems high-risk. Like the next catastrophe is right around the corner.

  When Denise and Josie found out I’d gotten married they insisted I go to the school’s clinic and get on birth control pills. I didn’t tell them any of the details of Trig and my marriage, but went ahead and did as they suggested. I know Trig and I won’t have an arrangement with benefits, but it’s best to be prepared. Just in case… oh, I don’t know. We might get marooned on a desert island or something like that.

  I drive home, thinking about what I’m going to say to Trig. He knows I had this lunch today and that I’ll find out about funding for the fall semester.

  He probably won’t even ask. Trig and I have been married six weeks and I’m sure we talk less now than we did when I lived with Wes and Jane. At least then, I saw him a few times a week for dinner. Now, his communication revolves around a few words here, a few words there, mostly in the mornings, standing by the coffee machine.

  He’s always growly in the morning. We watch the coffee fill the cup and argue over who gets the first coffee. It’s the one ritual we have. He tells me that he should get the first cup because he busts his ass all day while all I do is sit around and study.

  Even though he doesn’t crack a smile, I know he’s teasing me and he always hands me the first coffee. If his sexy voice weren’t enough to drive me wild, his bare chest, powerfully muscled, derails any rational thought I might have first thing in the morning.

  We part ways around eight. He heads into town while I head to school, the opposite direction. I get home before he does. A couple of times a week, I’ll go to Wes and Jane’s house because I miss them and the boys. Every so often, Trig and I show up at the same time and we all eat dinner together. Just like we used to.

  I worry about school and how I’ll come up with the rest of my tuition, but my biggest stress right now is the court hearing. I still haven’t gotten my letter. I thought by now I’d be done with the whole mess.

  When I get home, I park beside Trig’s truck. The dogs bound off the porch to greet me and while I pet them, I wonder why he’s home early. I hope he doesn’t have a headache. I hurry inside, my worry growing with every step. He told me to stay out of his room, but if he’s hurting I’ll have to help him. Nothing would keep me from him.

  I step inside and the first thing I see is a vase of flowers. Roses. A vase sits in the middle of the table filled with pink and white roses. Drawing closer, I’m struck with their perfume. Gorgeous. I smile and inhale deeply.

  “You like them?” Trig asks from the doorway.

  “I do. What’s the occasion?”

  “You finished your first semester.”

  He crosses to me and instead of wearing his usual work clothes, he’s in boots and jeans and a crisp button down shirt. The white fabric contrasts with his deep tan. The edge of his tattoo is barely visible.

  “You look… nice,” I say, shyly. A tacit understanding exists between us. We’re not supposed to say anything complimentary, or mention looks. I can’t resist and he shows no sign of being displeased.

  He smiles. “I took off early to get you some flowers.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “And I thought I’d take you out for dinner.”

  “Like a date?” I’m venturing onto thin ice here and I half-expect a rebuff.

  “We’re going to Wes and Jane’s but if you want to call it a date, go right ahead.”

  A short while later, we’re on the road. I’ve changed into jeans and boots too. I wear a light sweater. Every week, Trig sets out money for me, leaving it on my bedside table. It’s more than enough to cover gas or lunch. I always have plenty to go clothes shopping. From the beginning, I knew he hated my black stuff, so I’ve made a point to buy things with a little color.

  “I got my grant for the fall,” I tell him. “It will cover ninety percent and none of summer school.”

  “You want to go to summer school?”

  “I do.”

  He glances at me and then shakes his head. “I would think most girls your age would want to lay around the pool, or relax.”

  Girls your age… What’s that supposed to mean, Grandpa? When I’d first met him I would have come back with a comment like that, but not now.

  “I want to get school over with. You never know. My situation could change and I want that degree.”

  He frowns. “Then take summer school.”

  “I can’t afford it and it’s too late to get a loan.”

  His frown deepens. “Who said anything about getting a loan?”

  I’m not sure how to respond to that. Lots of kids take out loans. I plan on getting through school with grants, loans and part-time jobs.

  “We’re married,” he says. “Which means I’m on the line for half of that loan.”

  That actually hadn’t occurred to me. Holy shit, that’s shocking. If the grants don’t come through, I’m really up the creek. I stare out the window at the springtime landscape. Everything’s green and pretty from a week of rain. All I can think is how it might take six years to get a degree.

  “If you want to go to summer school, then go, Maggie. You don’t need a grant or loan or job. I’ll pay for your schooling.”

  Stowe tuition comes out to about a thousand dollars an hour. It’s private so it’s super-expensive.

  “Summer school would cost twelve-thousand dollars,” I say quietly.

  We pull into Wes and Jane’s neighborhood and drive along the wide, tree-lined streets.

  “That’s fine, Maggie. I want what you want.” Parking the truck in the driveway, he turns to face me. “Unless what I want is better. Then I want what I want.”

  This is the most we’ve spoken since we took our vows. It’s nice. I’ve missed his teasing.

  “You’re doing all this nice stuff for me. I’ll pay you back. One day.”

  Trig nods. “Damn straight.”

  The door opens and Thomas blasts out, stopping at the top of the stairs. “They’re here!”

  “There’s a reason I married a smart woman,” Trig says quietly.

  We get out of the truck and walk up to the house. Our steps fall in unison and I imagine what it would be like to reach for his hand, or even better, if he were to reach for mine.

  “Why’s that?” I ask.

  “When you graduate, you can go make millions and I’ll be a kept man.”

  His eyes light with a soft warmth that makes my breath catch. We’re drawing close to the boys but I want him to pull me close and wrap me in his arms. I shiver. He offers me everything I could need but not the one thing I want. Him.

  Chapter Thirty

  Trig

  After a lot of going back and forth, I manage to convince Maggie to enroll in summer school. It’s no trouble to pay for classes, I tell her, but I can tell it bothers her. She insists on paying me back when she graduates.

  When the bill comes, they’ve knocked seventy-five percent off and I honestly thought she might start crying when she tells me. Her advisor says Mr. Hendricks lined up a bunch of grants from local businesses. They had to be used up by fall so the school allowed them to go towards her tuition.

  A few days before her classes start, the boys finish their school year. Every year, the boys come to my house for a camp out to celebrate the beginning of summer. I make hamburgers and they sleep in tents. The tents aren’t set up outside. We tried that once and Thomas had a melt-down. The past couple of years I set the tents up in the basement.

  It’s pretend-camping. The best kind.

  This year, Maggie’s here to help. The two
of us make hamburgers together and we eat outside. After, we go fish in the pond for a half-hour before sun set. Everything’s muddy from the rains and the creeks moving fast. The boys have muddy boots, but they’re happy and Maggie looks like she is too.

  I go downstairs with all the stuff we need for s’mores. The boys sit around the fireplace while Maggie sits cross-legged on the bed I’ve set out for myself, telling them a scary story. Not too scary, but scary enough to keep their attention firmly on her.

  Which is right were my attention is, too. Her hair hangs loose. She wears no make-up. Her shorts and t-shirt show off her slim, toned body. I love seeing her here. Relaxed. Smiling.

  We make s’mores and while the boys polish off the last of them, Thomas makes an announcement. “Maggie’s sleeping down here, too.”

  “There’s no room for her,” I say. “Sorry Maggie.”

  Thomas looks crest-fallen. “She said yes.”

  She gestures to my bed, a king-sized air mattress I bought two years ago, especially for this little party. For the boys, it’s all about sleeping in a tent, in a sleeping bag. I have two tents for the four of them. I’m not interested in a sleeping bag. I’m interested in comfort.

  “No girls allowed,” I tell him.

  Maggie smiles. “That’s okay. I can sleep in my own bed.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Uncle Trig,” Thomas wails.

  “Yeah, that bed’s big enough for two,” Seth argues. “She’s not even that big.”

  Maggie blushes and shrugs. “This wasn’t my idea.”

  All four boys look at me, pleading silently.

  I didn’t see this coming, but if I don’t agree, I’ll look like the bad guy here.

  “Maggie says she’s never been camping before.”

  I scrub a hand over my face. This isn’t actual camping, I’d like to point out.

  “She can stay for a little while,” I tell them. “Go get into your pajamas and brush your teeth.”

  Maggie’s the first one to respond. She pops up off the bed. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  The boys run after her and I’m left alone in the basement, next to the fireplace. Shit. For months, I’ve ached to hold her in my arms. I’ve kept away from her, fought my need every minute of every day. Now she’s going to lie next to me on a camping mattress with four little boys a few feet away.

  Great.

  Upstairs, I pass Maggie in the hallway and try to keep my gaze from drifting down the front of her. Her eyes glint with amusement. She doesn’t look like a woman who’d be traumatized by my touch. I’m sure I saw a hint of challenge there. A look I’ve never seen before. It only takes an instant to ignite primitive lust inside me.

  She heads back down with the boys. I change into a pair of sweat-pants and t-shirt and follow.

  The boys are already in their tents, the zipper zipped. Beams of flashlights zoom around wildly until the boys get settled with books. If things go like they have in the past, they’ll read a while and then snap off their flashlights and go to sleep.

  Maggie’s on the far side of the bed, lying under the blanket and illuminated by the dying fire. I know the boys are only a few feet away, but all I want to do is yank her into my arms. I drop my weight down to one knee. The impact of my weight makes her bounce and she almost falls out. She turns and gives me a how-could-you look.

  Lying down in the middle of the bed, I sink a few inches and slowly she slips down towards the dip. I hear her gasp and she tries to keep from sliding down towards me. She grips the edge but it’s no use, gravity pulls her down.

  My self-control crumbles and I gather her in my arms. She laughs softly as her body sinks against mine.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper.

  “I think we should.”

  Her lips brush my neck and that’s all I can take. My restraint falls away. I lift onto my elbow, press her back and kiss her lips. A shudder rolls down my body. Blood burns along my veins. My whole body is instantly hard. She responds with the smallest moan, parting her lips when I brush my tongue against her lips.

  I’ve wanted this for so long. Having her in my arms feels unreal, like a dream.

  She runs her fingers along my back, her touch softly exploring my shoulders. I’d always worried she’d be fearful or that I’d stir up some old trauma, but she seems as eager for my touch as God knows I am for hers.

  Still, I take it slowly. I’d love to tear that scrap of a nightie off her and have her naked, but won’t show her that side of myself the first time I give her a real kiss. Good thing the boys are right here. I won’t let anything progress with them a few feet away.

  Angling to deepen the kiss, I lace my fingers through hers. I stroke my tongue past her lips. She’s sweet. Her kiss is perfect. Every nerve in my body is aware of her, feeling for any sign of retreat, but she welcomes me. She presses against my cock. Tentative, but not shy. I want her so badly. I’m almost grateful the boys are a few feet away. They’re helping me tap the brakes and keep from taking what I want.

  “I never imagined the first time we’d make out it would be on an air mattress,” she whispers.

  “Pretty sexy, huh?”

  “Mmm… I think I like camping.”

  I kiss her neck, drawing a deep breath to inhale her sweet scent. When she writhes, it’s easy to let her slip further into the dip running down the middle of the air mattress. Soon she’s beneath me. I’d like to scoop her up and carry her to my bed, instead of kissing her here in this damn camp bed.

  The sound of the zipper stops me and I tug her beside me. Thomas emerges from his tent.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Go on, then,” I say.

  My voice sounds rough and when he’s gone I groan with discomfort. My cock’s eager for more than just a make-out session. I can’t believe I have Maggie in my arms but it’s not enough. She settles next to me, resting her head on my shoulder.

  Thomas takes forever. I consider getting up to check on him but don’t want to leave her. I hear him upstairs, his footsteps heading into the kitchen, probably looking for more marshmallows. The little rascal. Her breathing deepens. I can feel her sinking into sleep. Finally, Thomas returns. I put my finger to my lips and he shrugs and disappears into his tent.

  For a long time, I lie awake. Her body feels perfect. I’m aching with need, but strangely, I feel content. Elated. She’s lying in my arms and welcomed my touch, my kiss, and that’s something that makes me happier than I’ve been in a long damn time.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Maggie

  I wake up the next morning, alone. The boys are up and Trig’s gone too. The embers in the fireplace lends a soft light to the room. Without Trig in the bed, I’m not sinking into the middle, but rest comfortably on top.

  Last night, I’d enjoyed the most wonderful night of sleep. Trig held me close, not that he had much choice. Even if I’d been able to crawl out of the pit his weight created, I would have rolled back down. Sometime in the night, we’d both been awake and I asked him if I should go to my bed. He’d responded with a soft growl and tightened his embrace.

  His scent lingers on the bedding. It’s strong and masculine and I might have to steal this pillow to sleep with every night. My body hums with desire as I think about the way his arms felt. It was clear he wanted me too. Any time I rubbed against him, I encountered his erection and my touch would elicit another rumble from him.

  Smiling, I get out of bed and go upstairs. The house is quiet. They must have gone out, maybe to see the horses or jump in the creek for a morning swim. I shower and dress. School doesn’t start for a few days, so I have the whole day to do whatever I please. And whatever I please happens to be hanging out with Trig and the boys.

  I never know where I stand with Trig. Was last night just a one-time thing? A whim? Did he kiss me and hold me just because the opportunity presented itself?

  By the time Trig and the boys trudge back up to the house, I’ve worked myself into an almost fra
ntic state, but the look in his eyes tells me that I worry for nothing. He climbs the porch steps two at a time and sweeps me into a brief but forceful kiss.

  “Ew,” Thomas mutters.

  Trig’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but the boys wear swim trunks and have towels wrapped around their shoulders.

  They file into the house. I follow Trig into the kitchen and lean against the door frame while he rummages in the pantry.

  “Did you sleep okay last night?” I ask.

  Emerging from the pantry with an armful of flour and sugar and a few other canisters, he grins at me. “Great. You?”

  “I did. I think I like camping.”

  He sets everything on the counter, lights the gas flame under a cast iron skillet and begins measuring ingredients. The way he measures doesn’t involve cups or spoons. He does everything by sight, scooping rough amounts and tossing everything into a bowl.

  “You want to go camping with me again?” His voice is lower, so if any boys are nearby, they won’t hear the question.

  “That sounds all right to me.”

  “Me too,” he says softly, just as Seth wanders into the kitchen.

  The six of us eat at the breakfast table, an immense, antique table that sits in a sunny nook, surrounded by bay windows. Trig’s made mountains of food - bacon, pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs. The boys devour every last bit.

  After breakfast, the boys want to play hide-and-seek in the barn. I haven’t stepped one foot into Trig’s barn and when they discover that, they insist I come play too. The rules are simple. You have to stay in the barn. Period.

  We only have an hour, because Michael has to go to baseball practice.

  The barn is big and musty. The first floor has about ten stalls, a feed room and a tack room. Upstairs is a hayloft. While Seth counts to twenty-five, I watch the other boys scramble up the ladder. It’s been a long time since I’ve played hide-and-seek, but I know enough not to follow the monkeys. They’ll giggle and give all of us away.

  Trig’s disappeared. I wonder if he’s left us and returned to the house for a nap. As quietly as I can, I hurry into the tack room. Saddles line one wall, bridles hang from hooks on the other wall. Chaps hang on a hook beside the bridles. They must be Trig’s. I imagine Trig wearing jeans and boots and chaps - I’d like to see that.