Two Crazy, One Wild

by Shaye Marlow

  “Jesus, Frances,” he muttered into my mouth.

  I whimpered into his, rotating my hips, managing to fuck him without having any leverage to do so.

  His fingertips dug into my thighs. He kneaded my ass, clutching me close, kissing me back.

  “Please,” I gasped. “Please fuck me.”

  “I am fucking you.”

  I growled, dragging my nails down his back.

  He carried me over to the tailgate. Lowered it. And then me, onto it.

  “Like this?” he asked, pulling back a couple inches, then coming back with a gentle thrust.

  “Harder,” I said.

  He did it a little harder, his lips curled in a crooked grin.

  “Harder.”

  “Frances, you’re killing me,” he said, beginning to move in a way I 100% approved of. His hips slapped my thighs as he stuffed me full over and over again.

  He groaned, watching me writhe on the tailgate. “Is this better than my tongue?” he asked.

  I gave him an ‘mmm’ noise because I didn’t want to think about anything but how good it felt.

  “Better than Jim?” he asked.

  I growled at him, irritated that he was asking such stupid questions at a time like this.

  His hips slapped my ass. “Answer me.”

  “Yes. Better than Jim.”

  “And Ted? Is this better than Ted?”

  “Yes!”

  “What about your husband?”

  “Ex-husband, and he was terrible in the sack. Couldn’t get out of his own head,” I groused. “Asked too many questions.”

  Zack started to laugh, then froze. Looking off to my right, into the woods, he cocked his head.

  I tugged at him, then began to moan a protest.

  He stifled the sound with a hand. “Shhhh,” he said, still peering into the woods.

  And then I heard it: A branch snapped.

  I craned my neck, managing to free my mouth, but didn’t see anything. “Maybe we should head on back to the cabin.”

  “Nono, what if it’s that bear? The big one.” He pulled away, leaving me suddenly cool and empty, and ran around the side of the Jeep. He yanked open the door and fished a rifle out of the rack on the back window.

  “Zack…” I did an unpleasant bare-assed slide from the tailgate. “Why don’t you put that back? We can go and have a nice picnic, then some nice sex.”

  “There’s something in the woods,” he said, sparing me a ‘you’re nuts’ glance.

  “Yeah, and that something will go away.”

  “If it’s that bear, I don’t want it to go away. I want its hide on my wall. That’s the whole reason for all of this, remember? We want that bear.”

  Another loud snap had us both turning. And there he was. The huge bear, bigger than anything Zack had probably ever seen. Almost the size of the Jeep, standing in the shadows at the edge of the forest, watching us.

  Zack fired from the hip and took a chunk out of a nearby tree.

  The bear backed up, looking uncertain.

  Cussing, Zack chambered the next cartridge, then shouldered the rifle.

  “No!” I lunged at him, dragging the muzzle down.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Go!” I yelled, resisting Zack’s attempts to shake me off.

  The bear turned around and ran.

  “Dammit Frances!” Zack gave me a shove that was a hair too hard, and I landed on my ass. As he looked from me to the bear rapidly disappearing into the forest, it seemed there were a million things he wanted to say. Instead of voicing any of them, he jumped into the Jeep, and tore off into the woods after the bear.

  The sound of his engine faded, and then it was just me on the gravel shore with a set of tire tracks and an abused ass. And zero clothes.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  FRANCES

  “Frances,” Zack called.

  I’d heard him approaching through the woods, and had moved off to one side of the trail to let him pass. I stared straight ahead, ignoring him as the Jeep rolled along beside me.

  “Frances.”

  I was staring ahead so hard, my eyes pricked with tears. At least, I told myself that was the reason I felt like crying.

  “Frances.” His voice was soft. Coaxing.

  I shot him the bird, and didn’t move from my course. I was hiking back to the cabin—yes, naked—where I was going to pack my shit, climb into his airplane, and fly back to my dad’s place. I was tired of the brothers’ shit, and never mind that it wasn’t my plane. Obviously, that wasn’t a problem for me.

  “Frances, I’m sorry.”

  “Apologies from you mean next to nothing.” I clamped my mouth shut, irritated that I’d given him even that much.

  “That’s not true. I mean it. I am sorry.” He tapped the brakes, and I pulled ahead up the trail. “Why don’t you stop so we can chat?” he called, catching back up.

  “Fuck you,” I mumbled.

  He must’ve jammed on the brakes this time, because the Jeep fell away.

  I stomped on, ire rising. This hadn’t been a good idea, this venturing into the woods without clothes. A cloud of mosquitos chased me, and I was trying not to slap at them too often, so as to avoid looking pathetic and possibly hysterical.

  “Frances,” Zack called, and this time his voice wasn’t muffled in the interior of the Jeep. He put his hand on my arm.

  I whirled, and punched him in the gut.

  He just blinked at me, looking stunned. “Ow,” he said, and held out my clothes.

  The guilt rushed in, somehow making me even angrier. I’d lost control, I’d hit him, and I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t go around hitting people if not for my parentage. I hated that I’d hit Zack, when I knew deep in my bones that it was nobody’s fault but my own, and also that Zack would never hit me back. Accidently shove me a bit too hard, sure. Actually swing at me… no.

  The mosquitos were a veritable cloud now that we’d stopped, swarming and landing and drilling all over my exposed skin. Avoiding his eyes, I grabbed my pants and bent to yank them on.

  “Frances, I’m sorry.”

  “About which part, Zack? Are you sorry you chose a bear over me? Or maybe you’re sorry for knocking me on my ass? Or not listening to me? Or is it leaving me that you’re sorry for?” I glared at him as I buttoned my pants.

  “Um. Leaving you,” he said. “Though pushing you was not a good idea.”

  “You think?”

  “I’ve told you, I’m no good at thinking.”

  “Don’t gimme that. Your brain works just fine. Like right now. I bet you could guess what I’m doing when I get back to the cabin.” I grabbed my shirt, not even bothering with the bra.

  “You’re going to… shut yourself into your bedroom and pout?” he guessed.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and kick that Russian girlfriend out of your mind, and plug me in instead,” I said, my voice acid.

  “You’re going to… steal something of mine?”

  “You’re an idiot,” I said, and instantly regretted it.

  “That’s what I keep telling you.”

  “Shut up.” But I wasn’t going to tell him he wasn’t an idiot, not now. I was washing my hands of him. “I’m leaving.”

  “But, you can’t,” he sputtered. “I’m paying you.”

  “Keep your fucking money.” On that very satisfying statement, I whirled and stomped away.

  He dogged my steps. “But I need to learn to fl—”

  “What, so you can go and shoot a bear? Seems like you can do that well enough from your Jeep.”

  “The bear got away,” he said. “I built you a gazebo.”

  I shrugged.

  “I remodeled that bedroom for you. I’ve been neglecting Rory and our catapult stuff, I—”

  “Don’t care.”

  He grabbed my arm and whirled me around, and this time, he caught my fist when it shot toward him. “That isn’t nice,” he said.

  “
I’m not trying to be nice.” I grunted, aiming a kick at his knee. Yes, I was a goddamn hypocrite. The knowledge only made me madder.

  He twisted so that it glanced off his calf. “Hey. That’s the bad one.”

  “I know. Hold still.”

  He didn’t. We played footsie for a few moments, until I grew tired of it.

  “Let me go!” I tugged furiously against his hold on my wrists.

  He pulled me closer instead, gathered me against his chest. “Frances,” he said, looking down into my eyes at close range, “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology not accepted.” I finally managed to yank away.

  Zack sighed. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.”

  I launched myself into a run, but he grabbed me mid-step. He wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, ignoring the way I slammed the back of my head into his collarbone, and carried me back to the Jeep.

  I made it as hard as possible for him to tie my wrists, then called him every dirty name I knew as he sat on my legs to lash my ankles with a ratchet strap. “You can’t do this,” I growled, irritated that my muscles weren’t the only things that heated up as I fought him. “You can’t just grab me every time you feel like it. Can’t just tie me up!”

  “I just did,” he said. “And your guys tied me up.”

  He threw me in the backseat of the Jeep, and must’ve had child locks, because when I yanked at the lever to open the door, nothing happened. He climbed in the front, put it in first, and I was pushed back in my seat as he tore down the trail. I lifted my bound wrists to my mouth, trying to get purchase on the flat straps with my teeth, without much success.

  Zack pulled up outside the cabin, parked, and came around to open my door. He leaned in, snagged my leg, and dragged me across the seat to him. Resisting was absolutely no use. He just hauled me from the Jeep and slung me over his shoulder.

  “Hey, hey,” Rory called, jogging toward us from the shop. “What’s going on?”

  “Frances is being difficult,” Zack said.

  Rory fell in beside us as Zack carried me toward the cabin. “You took the Jeep out?” he asked. “Without me?”

  Just before we reached the steps, Rory grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, we need to talk.”

  “Make it quick,” Zack said, his hand branding the back of my thigh. I ground my teeth.

  “What happened to bros before hos?” Rory asked. “I haven’t even seen you for a friggin’ week.”

  “What are you talking about? I see you every day.”

  “He misses you, Zack,” I put in.

  “You’re out every day flying. For hours. With her. And then, when you get back, it’s all, ‘I wonder what Frances is doing in the yard? Do you think Frances will like these flowers I painted her? Do you think Frances is sleeping okay? Did you notice her eyes turn purple when she’s up to something?’ I don’t want to talk about her eyes, Zack. Her tits or ass, Zack, maybe, but not her friggin’ eyes. Or better yet, you could tell me some old hockey stories, or we could go four-wheeling like we used to. You just took Frances out in the Jeep. Why didn’t you invite me? I didn’t even know you were going.”

  “I didn’t invite you, because I planned to seduce her,” Zack said.

  Dangling over his shoulder, I scoffed.

  “Well, Zack, she doesn’t seem seduced. And what is it you’re so fond of saying? ‘Don’t try, do.’? Well, guess what? You failed.”

  “Yeah, Zack. You failed,” I agreed. “You should let me go and rekindle your bromance, instead.” I tried to hook my thigh around his neck, having some notion I could choke him out, but he thrust his fingers between my legs and I stiffened with a yelp.

  “Rory,” Zack said. “I’ll be busy this evening. Please don’t come in, even if Frances screams. Especially if Frances screams.” Then he turned, and started into the cabin.

  “B-but,” Rory stuttered. “What about us?”

  “Rory,” I called, pushing up against Zack’s back so I could see him. “If you free me now, I’ll get in that airplane and fly away. You can have Zack back. Hurry!”

  Rory let out a furious yell and ran at his brother, slamming him—us, really—into the wall next to my door. Zack pushed us free, then kicked Rory aside.

  I glimpsed Rory sprawled on the floor, a scowl on his face, and then Zack slammed my bedroom door and locked it. The knob rattled, and Zack yelled, “Fuck off, or I’ll come out there.”

  The door went silent. Zack flipped me onto the bed.

  “So, what?” I asked, affecting a bored tone. “You’re going to tear my clothes off and ravage me until I accept your apology?”

  “Close,” Zack said. Rounding the bed, he grasped the upper straps of the sex swing, and lifted it from its hook in the ceiling. He tossed the black webbing onto the bed next to me.

  Then he lifted me, stood me up where the swing had hung, and ran the trailing end of the rope tied around my wrists through the loop. “You kinky bastard,” I said, unable to suppress the approval in my tone as he pulled my arms straight over my head. He ran the rope between my wrists and back up, finally tying it off.

  “You said trying the same thing over and over hoping for different results is the definition of insanity,” Zack said. “Well, I’ve tried asking, and begging, and was even your sex slave for a day. And here you are, still trying to leave. So, I’ve decided to try something different.”

  “Learning to fly is not really grounds for something this extreme,” I drawled.

  “This isn’t about learning to fly,” Zack said. “It’s about you and me, and the fact that you aren’t going anywhere.” With that, he grasped the collar of my shirt, and tore it open.

  “I know the verbal contract we made was for a month, but—“

  “Like I said, this isn’t about learning to fly.”

  “Well then, I don’t understand—“

  Zack dragged me close. “I won’t make the same mistake Derrick did, letting you get away. I have you, and I intend to keep you.”

  I lost my breath as heat speared through me. I stared into his eyes, and when I spoke, my voice held a mere fraction of my usual sass. “Wow, Zack. Caveman much?”

  He leaned even closer, until his eyes were inches from mine. “You’re going to admit you have feelings for me.”

  “I do have feeling for you,” I said. “I’m angry at you. Pissed. Annoyed. Disgusted.”

  Zack laughed as he tugged free the button of my fly. “Disgusted?” He dragged my zipper down slowly, making me shiver.

  I lifted my chin. “Yes.”

  He pushed my pants down over my hips, then slid his hands around my ribcage, bent over, and flicked my nipple with his tongue. “Does this disgust you?”

  “Yes,” I said, even as my nipple and womb tightened. I held still, refusing to push my chest toward him, or my hips, or any other part of me that craved his touch—which was, actually, every part.

  “And this?” he whispered, breath tickling my other nipple before he closed his teeth on it.

  I bit my lip, stifling a moan. “Oh, yes.”

  He explored my breasts at a leisurely pace, finding the most sensitive spots, and the types of touches that made me pant. He waited until I was squirming, until I was no longer even trying to disguise my sounds, to speak again. “And now?” he murmured.

  “I am completely… completely repelled.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Terrible,” I managed.

  “You can tell me the truth, you know,” Zack said, moving up to tenderly kiss my neck. While his mouth was occupied, he massaged my waist, which in all of my sexual adventures, I hadn’t realized was an erogenous zone.

  “About?” All of my attention was on the way he was touching me.

  “Anything. I know all we seem to do is fight and fuck—”

  “We’ve fled a couple times,” I argued.

  “Mmm-hmm. But I want more. I’m saying I’d like you to talk to me. Tell me things. Share what you’re thinking,
what you’re feeling.”

  “Zack,” I breathed, letting my head fall back.

  He lifted up until his mouth hovered over mine. “Yes?”

  “You sound like a woman.”

  “See, this is what I’m talking about. I’m trying to connect with you, and you’re deflecting,” he said, stroking his hands up and down my back.

  I swayed forward, rubbing against the hard bulge in the front of his pants. “Doesn’t seem like you’re trying very hard,” I purred. The motion had been designed to tempt him into ‘connecting’, but it was pretty safe to say it backfired. He didn’t immediately ravage me, and I was on fire.

  He cupped my face and looked into my eyes. “Frances.”

  I gazed up at him until I couldn’t take it anymore, and averted my eyes.

  “Frances,” he coaxed, thumbs caressing my cheeks.

  My heart and mind raced, and inexplicably I felt tears burning the backs of my eyes. Finally, I looked back at him.

  He smiled. “Hi.”

  My lip wobbled. “Your brother’s a douche,” I said.

  “True,” Zack said. “What else?”

  “The tulips are pretty,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

  “Do you like it here?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s o—Yes. I do.”

  “Then why do you keep trying to leave?”

  “You… complicate things.”

  He was petting me again, from my shoulder blades to my ass. “I’m not complicated.”

  Okay, that was bullshit, but I figured I could argue that later. “You make me laugh, then make me want to jump your bones. Then, minutes later, you make me want to rip your head off.”

  He kissed my shoulder.

  “I don’t like losing my temper. I hate it when I act like my father.”

  “You’re not your father,” Zack said, moving back down to my breasts to illustrate his point.

  “I hit you.”

  “You’re forgiven,” he murmured, the gentle brush of his lips and vibration of his voice making me shiver. “I want you to stay here,” he said, then drew on my nipple in a way that made my breath hiss. “I want you to quit trying to run away.”

  “I’m not running—ah!” My whole body arched as he simultaneously nipped my breast and pressed his thumb to my clit.