by Skye Darrel
But first—I’ll show her how dirty I can be.
I turn April on her stomach, and she whines, looking back over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Patience.” I slap her buttocks.
“Ow! What are you—ohhhh.”
I grab two handfuls of her rump, molding them and squeezing them, kissing them, biting them. I slap each half lightly. I pull them apart and slide my tongue down the cleft, swirling around her pretty little asshole.
“You like that, baby?”
“Yes,” she gasps. April has lost all modesty, trembling with pleasure, pushing her ass in my face as I tongue the puckered rim of her rear hole.
“Don’t stop,” she begs.
“My cock is hungry, angel. I think your pussy has rested enough.”
I turn her back around, sucking on her nipples before I thrust fully into her, the slick cream of her pussy coating my cock to the balls. She clamps her legs around my middle, rubbing her breasts into my chest, and I know it’s her signal to go harder.
Ravish her.
Love her.
I hold her hands above her head as I thrust, sawing my cock in her sheath, pulsing and slippery and burning hot. Shudders wrack her body. It’s not long before her walls clench, her face knit into the most beautiful expression of climax. She lets out a squeal as I cum with her.
“Bedtime,” I whisper.
She shuts her eyes, snuggling close to my chest.
Cold light filters through the tent.
April is still asleep, curled up against my body. We didn’t bother getting in our sleeping bags. I plant a kiss on her head before I get up, tugging on my jeans and boots. She looks so peaceful.
I go outside and breathe in the fresh mountain air. The blanket where we made love last night is spread out on the wet grass. A perfect night. A good morning. But I want us back at the lodge before noon, where she won’t go climbing near dangerous cliffs. My princess is a daredevil when you come down to it, but I'm taking no chances. I get the fire going and leave a rack of skewered sausages over the flames.
When I stoop back into the tent, April yawns.
“Something smells good.”
I kiss her hair. “Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up.”
“It’s so early.” Her eyes rove down my shirtless body. “Let’s stay a while.”
“Up you get, Princess.”
“Make me, you big meanie.”
Glad she asked. Squatting, I reach for her pussy to find it wet, and I hope my cum from last night is still inside her. The thought gets me harder. “Come on, you can be lazy at the lodge.”
A dark blush hits her cheeks. “I’ll be lazy right here.”
I strum her clit a few times, which only makes her stretch out and stare at me with those doe eyes, blinking her lashes.
“Do I have to spank you, little girl? Put you over my lap?”
“You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?”
I slap her pussy gently. “Keep teasing me, you'll find out."
She giggles and pushes off her sleeping bag. Suddenly she clutches her chest, panting for air, and she slumps down again. All the playfulness drains from her face.
“April?” I touch her neck to feel her pulse beating hard. She looks breathless, but this is no pleasure. “April what’s wrong?”
She takes deep breaths as her pulse steadies. “N-Nothing.”
“You looked like you were choking—”
“I’m fine,” she says, pushing me off. She gets to her feet. “Did you make breakfast?”
I want to ask if her symptoms are acting up, but I know the question would upset her, and she seems okay now. “Sausages.”
She dresses in a hurry. “Delicious. I can use the calories after last night.”
I smile for her, but I know she’s anything but fine.
While April eats, I pack up the tent and the rest of our gear. I watch her carefully. April digs out a pill bottle from her backpack, pops a single white tablet into her mouth, and drinks it down with water.
I walk over and rub her shoulders. “You alright?”
“Fine.”
“What was that in the tent?”
“Nothing, forget it.”
Her eyes stray to the oak tree that had marked our campsite. “I have an idea. Got a pocketknife?”
I rummage in my pack and dig out a bottle opener with a sharp end. “Just this.”
April rolls her eyes. She takes the opener and spends a minute etching in the tree trunk.
When she finishes, I find the perfect outline of a heart. But it’s missing something. “Shouldn’t you carve our initials too?”
“I’ll add that the next time we’re here. Maybe next year? And if we don’t come back,” April gives me a sad smile, “then some other lucky campers can use the heart.”
We watch the sunrise together, and I don’t trust myself to speak.
IT’S LATE AFTERNOON when we reach the lodge.
April is rosy and glowing from the hike. I feel damn good myself. At least physically. We eat a late lunch and take a bath in the hot tub.
I help her towel off in front of the mirror, and when I rub the towel slowly between her legs, she lets out a breathy moan that gets my cock hard at once.
“You did that on purpose,” she mutters.
“Hm.”
I drop the towel and stand against her, my erection bending on her hip. With one hand on her ass, I cup her pussy with my other. “Be honest with me, April. No matter what. Whenever you’re not feeling well, tell me.”
Her eyes jump open. “I feel fine.”
“You didn't this morning.”
“This morning was . . .” She trails off as I flick her little clit, puffy and wet again.
“This morning was your symptoms acting up. Shortness of breath, am I right?”
“Maybe,” she whispers. “I’m short of breath right now.”
I squeeze her ass. “Be serious.”
“You have your hands all over me and you want to be serious?”
I slide one hand between her cheeks, and I push two fingers into her cunt at the same time, pleasuring both her holes while grinding my cock on her hip. “I’m dead serious,” I growl. “I’m going to take care of you when this trip ends. I’ll find the best doctors, the best treatments. But I need you to be honest with me, okay?”
April twirls away from me.
I cage her against the wall with my arms, kissing her throat, her breasts, the head of my cock rubbing at her entrance. She whimpers and squirms.
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
She snatches my cock in one hand and strokes hard. “Fine. Whatever.”
I take her hand off before thrusting into her pussy. I press her against the wall and pepper her with kisses. Nothing will take her away from me—this I whisper in her ear as I give her pleasure. And her pleasure is mine.
We spend the afternoon in tortured ecstasy, fucking in every room of the lodge, on every surface. I can’t keep my hands away and she’s just as greedy. Angry too, biting and scratching. In the dining area, I lie down on the table while she straddles my hips, riding my cock so hard I make a conscious effort to match her pace. My sweat-drenched abs flex with every turn of her hips.
I climax so many times my cum turns watery, and my balls ache. Her pussy is swollen and slippery with our cream. I leave teeth marks on her breasts, and she marks my shoulder with her incisors. My handprints redden her ass. Her nails leave lines on my chest.
We break apart to eat a quick dinner, and we have to sit on towels. April glares at me the whole time.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Just fine.”
After dinner, she calls me to our suite, where I find her kneeling on the carpet, a mischievous grin plastered across her lips.
“Let me taste you,” she says, her voice innocent. She licks her upper lip.
This is new. I walk over to her with my erection throbbing. April wags her finger, gesturing me closer,
until my well-used cock wobbles inches from her mouth.
“Stop,” she commands. “Hold still.”
Her mouth closes around my pulsing length, taking me halfway. She should feel like heaven, but seeing her kneeling bothers me. The woman I love should never be on her knees.
April moans around my cock.
I feel the back of her throat as she gurgles.
Fuck. I don’t know what she’s trying to prove, but I’m torn between this animal urge to fuck her hot little mouth and pulling out before she gags. Her eyes get watery, her face turning red, and still she’s not stopping.
I try to pull back but she has my shaft in an iron grip, and I feel her teeth, holding me in. Her other hand squeezes my sac to the point of pain.
“April,” I say through my teeth. “You’ll choke.”
She gives a final hard suck that makes my balls twitch.
“I’m fine,” she says, gasping.
I’ve barely had a chance to get myself under control when she starts swirling her tongue around my tip. A strand of cum hangs from the corner of her mouth.
“What’s gotten into you?” I growl.
She pulls off again and strokes me. “I wanted to suck your cock,” April says with a sneer. “Didn’t think you would mind. Do you mind?”
She’s found a new way to get under my skin, and it's working. “No, I don't fucking mind.”
“You can cum in my mouth if you want.”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I say.
She flicks her lashes. “What do you mean, Everett?”
“You’re upset about something.”
“Am I?”
Enough. I haul April to her feet. “You're upset because I worry about your health. Is that it?”
She turns her face away, the smile gone.
I hold her chin and force her to look at me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You pity me,” she says. “I see it in your eyes, ever since I told you I’m sick. You feel sorry for me.”
It's not pity. I cherish her. She's carried her wound for so long, and I want to share it. That's what I want. Share it, fight it. Fight for her.
I lift her onto our bed.
“For fuck sakes, I love you. I want to take care of you and I’m worried I can’t.” My hand runs down her cheek. “I’m worried you won’t let me.”
She looks at me for a while before she sighs. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I kiss her forehead. “Today was fun. We should get you upset more often.”
April shoves my chest. I kiss her again.
“Good night, Everett. See you in my dreams.”
“Good night.” I know she’ll be in my dreams, like she always is and always will be.
Chapter Ten
EVERETT
Breaths in the dark.
I turn on the bedside lamp and see her tossing in the sheets, hands grappling at her chest and throat. My blood turns to ice.
“April?” I grab her shoulder. “April!”
She makes strangling sounds as her chest heaves. I lay my hand just below her ribs and lightly press as I pull her to a sitting position. She coughs, sputtering, gulping down air like a swimmer who's stayed under too long. She clings to me as I rub her back.
“It’s over,” I comfort her, “It’s over.”
April sucks down air hard and fast, and there’s nothing I can do but keep massaging her back. I don’t need to ask what’s wrong. One of the symptoms of ALS is difficulty breathing, but I wasn’t prepared to see it like this. “You okay?”
She shakes her head. “It’s never been that bad before.”
“I'm taking you to a hospital.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not."
“Everett!” Anger in her voice. “There’s nothing a hospital can do.” She lowers her eyes. “When I get worse, I'll need an oxygen mask. Then a breathing tube.”
Imagining April hooked up to a respirator machine makes me heartsick. “What do you need now?”
“A hot bath. The steam helps me breathe better.” She gives me a light kiss. “Trust me, I’m fine, okay?”
She struggles out of bed and barely takes a step before she stumbles.
I catch her by the waist. “You’re not fine.”
Hanging onto my arm, she straightens. Swings her legs. Wiggles her toes. I let go of her carefully, remembering the other symptoms of ALS. Muscle weakness. Loss of balance.
“I’m fine,” she insists. “Everything works.”
But she doesn’t stop me from guiding her to the bathroom. While I run a hot bath, April leans against the sink holding her elbows. She looks so frail it breaks my heart, and she won’t meet my eyes.
I help her into the tub. “Easy.”
“You can go, Everett.” She sinks to her neck in the steaming water. “Leave me alone for a bit.”
I kneel at the rim, stroking her hair, and I’ve never felt more powerless. “No fucking way.”
“You don’t need to see me like this.”
“Told you before, Princess. I love you, in sickness and in health. Good times or bad. And this qualifies as bad. Not going anywhere."
She leans back and smiles. “How sweet.”
“This isn’t about sweet. I can’t leave you.”
Her eyes plead with me. “Just give me a moment. Keep the door open if you like. I’ll yell if I need you. Please?”
“Fine,” I growl. “I’ll be right outside.”
I get my phone and sit down in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
Calm. I’d looked calm for her, but my heart had rattled like a broken engine. Seeing her struggling for air scared the shit out of me. Wild fear I haven’t felt since childhood, the fear of having no control.
I thought she was dying.
She is dying.
I shake the thought away. The episode or attack, whatever it was, is over now. I hear her sloshing water in the bathroom. She’s alive and nothing will happen to her. I’ll make sure she stays that way.
I turn on my phone and see a list of missed calls from Viktor Harlow. Something about the company, no doubt, even though I’d told him no calls unless the world is ending.
Ignoring the messages, I open a browser and look up ALS. It’s grim reading.
Most of it April had already told me. A genetic disease that attacks the neurons controlling your muscles. There is nothing wrong with her lungs. It’s all in her mind, literally. The neurons controlling her respiratory muscles are failing. Respiratory failure is the leading cause of—I swallow a sour taste—death among ALS patients.
No cure exists.
I scroll through photos of patients in wheelchairs with oxygen masks. People in the prime of health reduced to withered husks. All bodily functions gone. Breathing tubes, feeding tubes, waste bags. Loss of speech. Once symptoms manifest, disease progression is fast and merciless. Juvenile cases like April’s are especially vicious. Many die within two years. Few live longer than five. My girl has already been lucky.
But her luck is running out.
Focus on the positive. The genes behind the disease are known. Researchers and doctors are searching for potential cures. Anything is possible. There is hope. Her very name means hope.
I shut the browser and push a hand through my hair.
The unchecked messages from Viktor Harlow glare up from the screen. Twelve calls, starting four days ago. Something must’ve happened at the company. I tap the first message and listen.
“Everett, this is urgent. Your father requests a status update on the tech center. Development and construction are well behind schedule. He wants to know why you haven’t closed St. Jude Hospital. Call the office when you get this.”
My stomach squeezes.
I tap the last message, left yesterday.
“Edmund is arriving from Seattle today. I told him everything. Your infatuation with that girl has cost the company dearly. Return at once. He will be expecting you.”
I nearly thro
w the phone against the wall.
Stay calm. For April’s sake.
This is no time to have a confrontation with my old man. Edmund has majority control of Royce Innovations and all its resources. I will need his help if I’m going to save April. I’ll need the support of a man who would call her too weak to survive, too sick, and therefore undeserving of life. I know how he thinks because he taught me the same. And I would have agreed before I fell in love with her.
Chapter Eleven
APRIL
A bath is just what I needed. Steam soaks into my lungs and I breathe easily, even though I know the relief is temporary. But what isn’t?
I wish Everett hadn’t seen me like that. We’ve shared every intimacy, but I wasn’t ready to show him my worst symptoms. Being vulnerable in front of someone is another form of intimacy. I understand that now. Maybe the most intimate.
I don’t want his pity. I don’t want him to see me as this fragile doll. And most of all, I’m afraid he doesn’t know what my illness means. It’s not something he can fix.
Everett had panicked when he found me wheezing. I panicked myself. I’ve had breathing problems before, but never to the point of suffocating. I had never woken like that, the sensation of a lead weight on my chest, this knot of stale air in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe at all, couldn’t move my lungs.
Footsteps patter into the bathroom.
“Doing better?” he asks.
“Yep.”
Everett sits on the floor beside the tub, one hand swirling in the water. “We have to leave.”
“Why?” Our two weeks in the mountains aren't up until next Monday. “I told you I’m fine.”
“You need to get checked out, to be on the safe side. And there’s another reason—my father’s coming to Baltimore. He’s not happy I kept St. Jude open. I have to meet with him, figure things out.” Everett swallows. “He owns Royce Innovations. Edmund can override my decisions.”
“You mean he can still close the hospital?”
“I'll talk to him. Find a way to keep St. Jude open. And I’ll find a treatment for you.”
