by K. Webster
Once I cook the beans and offer her the entire pot to eat, she chirps happily about things she wants to make for the baby as she inhales the green beans. I don’t focus much on what she’s saying but how she’s saying it. Her eyes are lit up with joy. A permanent smile is affixed on her pretty face. She’s so fucking happy. I’ve never seen her this way. So free and in her element.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt out, interrupting her.
Her cheeks burn pink. “Thank you.”
I reach forward in my chair and finger her long hair. “I mean it. I can’t stop looking at you.”
She laughs. “You’re not so bad to look at either.”
When she launches into how she wants to lug some boxes back from the trailer, I get lost in staring at her. My mind drifts off to when we were packing that trailer.
“I’m bringing this.” Sabrina drops a plastic tub in front of me. Her eyes are flickering with life for once.
“What’s in it?” I ask, frowning. We’re supposed to be bringing less junk and more supplies.
“Some memories of when the kids were small. Important papers. Stuff like that.”
I want to tell her no but she hasn’t asked to take anything. If this is important to her, we’ll make room. It can collect dust in the wilderness like it collects dust here.
“Okay,” I concede.
She leaves me and flits through our now nearly-empty house, back to bed no doubt. I’m loading the rest of the trailer tonight and we set out tomorrow. We didn’t pack any furniture. Our plan is to live in the RV until I get the big cabin built on the top of the mountain. Once it’s finished, I’ll take the RV and trailer back to town to buy furnishings.
I put the plastic tub in the trailer along with about fifty other tubs. After I lock it up for the night, I head back inside. I’m sweating like a motherfucker so I peel off my shirt and head for the shower. Soon, showers like we’re used to will be a thing of the past.
Music plays from Devon’s room so I sneak up to check on her. I lean against the door frame and watch her. Her room is now empty aside from her bed and dresser that we’ve sold with the house. She’s reading a survivalist book and twirling a lock of her blonde hair. I can’t help but smile.
“What are you doing?”
She sits up and tosses the book onto the bed. “Learning how to suture wounds and which plants are poisonous. Question is, what are you doing?” Her gaze skims over my bare chest and I instantly regret taking off my shirt. Things have been weird since a few weeks ago when I took her to dinner. I lost my head that night and I’m desperately trying to regain control.
“Packed up the last of the boxes in the trailer. Got anything else that needs to get packed?”
She smiles. “Just me. Don’t forget about me.”
“I could never forget about you.”
Both of us are silent for a moment.
“Dad…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really excited about this.” Her brows furrow together as she climbs out of the bed. “You’re doing the right thing. For Mom. For us.”
I hate that my stupid eyes skim over her nipples that poke out of her silky night shirt. Gritting my teeth, I force my gaze up to meet hers. She hugs me and doesn’t even complain about my sweaty flesh.
“I love you,” she tells me, her hot breath tickling my chest.
I let out a deep breath and stroke her silky blonde hair before kissing the top of her head. “I love you too, Pip.”
“The wild. We’re really doing it.”
I hug her tighter. “We really are.”
“Reed!” Devon screams from inside the cabin.
I abandon the wood I’m chopping and run inside, Buddy right on my heels. When I burst in, expecting the worst, I find her standing naked on the bed with both palms on her big round belly. We’ve guessed her to be about five or six months but we’re not sure.
“Come feel,” she tells me, her face bright and excited.
I stalk over to her and place my hands on her hard flesh. I’m frowning when something inside of her bumps my hand. Our eyes meet and I swear my heart stops beating in my fucking chest.
“Was that the baby?”
“No, it was the alien that took over my body,” she teases.
I laugh but don’t take my hands from her. I want to feel it move again. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.”
She stares at me thoughtfully. “Even more amazing than when you felt Drew and I in Mom’s belly?”
Her words, so sudden and confusing, startle me. I step away as if my hands have been burned. Running my fingers through my hair, I back away from her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I-I just remembered I never brought those boxes to you. I’ll go fetch them now.”
When she frowns and her lip wobbles, I stalk back over to her. I take her face in my hands and kiss the hell out of her. “I love you,” I assure her. “I love our baby too. That was amazing, Dev.”
Her smile is back but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I wave to her and bolt outside. The warmer temps have melted off a lot of the snow. I’m boiling from the inside out. I tug off my sweaty shirt and tuck it into the back of my jeans as I stride back toward the trailer. It takes three trips of carrying two tubs each trip before I decide that’s enough for the day. Devon is no longer sad as she excitedly points at where she wants them. I’ve been building her shelves and a cabinet to store things. We’re quickly outgrowing our small space. Now that the warmer temperatures are here, I’m going to start on the extension.
I grab the big bucket we use for water and set off toward the river. It’s the same trip I make at least once a day. I’ve worn a path down to the river banks. One day I’ll build a small pier out here so we can have picnics and enjoy the sun without having to stay in the dirt. I’m just headed back and step into the clearing of our house when I hear it.
A voice.
Deep and manly.
A predator.
A motherfucking rapist.
Slinging my water bucket down, I grab the handiest object I can find which is my knife on my belt. I’m ready to gut the fucker.
“Whoa, fella. Calm down.”
The voice is familiar. My eyes bore into the stranger. He pulls off a beanie and his obnoxiously long golden light brown hair tumbles out. Jade colored eyes pierce mine.
“Reed Jamison?”
I stiffen, searching for my long-slaughtered brain to slot the final piece into place. “Atticus Knox.”
He lets out a slow breath, nodding. “Almost didn’t recognize you there, man. The beard and shit.” His eyes remain fixated on the knife that I’ve yet to put back into its sheath. Despite knowing the guy, my hackles are raised. I trust no one. The only person I trust is my Devon.
He’s a bigger guy than me and that sets my teeth on edge. Back when I bought this land, we shared a few beers after the closing. Nice guy. Mid-thirties. Played football in college. Family owns more acreage in Alaska than all the other families combined.
But now…
He’s a threat.
They all are.
“I just came out to check on you now that the snow is melted off some. You never showed up in town. I was sure you’d be back for supplies or something. Had my friends at the hardware store and the grocery store keep an eye out. Worried about you guys all winter. When I pulled up and saw what happened, I just knew you guys had been killed. But then I hiked down to the gorge and evidence was all over someone had been here. I’m so glad you made it,” he says, his tone genuine.
Anger surges through me. “My wife was killed on impact.”
Sorrow flickers in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Your daughter?”
I clutch my knife tighter. Jealousy and protectiveness explode inside of me. I don’t want him asking about her or saying her name. “She’s fine.”
He lets out a breath of relief and scratches at his scruffy jaw. “You okay, man?”
Gritting my teeth, I shake
my head. “You lied. You said no people were here. People. Are. Here.”
He takes a step back. “Calm down now, Reed. That was something I came to warn you about. On my land we found at least fifty squatters this winter. Some are violent. They’re fucking inbred.” The word on his tongue has him making a sour face. “Did they hurt you?”
My jaw clenches. “They hurt her.”
Understanding dawns on him and his face crumples. Sadness plagues his features. So maybe he isn’t the enemy. “Fuck, man. How can I help?”
I swallow and shake my head. “I killed them. I fucking killed them.”
He nods in approval. “Nobody cares about them. You won’t go to prison.”
Like I give a shit about prison.
“What do you want?” I ask, my tone harsh.
He’s still staring at me as though I’m a wild bear that he needs to calm. “I just want to help you guys. Do you need any supplies? Medicine? Food?” His gaze flits to the cabin. “I see you were resourceful in making shelter.”
My thoughts flip to Devon. With her having a baby soon, we will need supplies. I can’t be stupid and run off my only tie to the outside world who can help us. Reluctantly, I nod. “Actually, we could use some things. You staying for supper?”
He smiles, his teeth perfect and white, unlike those fucking savages. “Of course.”
* * *
* * *
I get lost in going through my box of books. The heroes on the covers are all handsome but not as intense or soul-burning hot like Dad. Still, I’m eager to read them. There isn’t much to do out here for fun. Reading is fun and I can’t wait to pass that down to our child. I’m a little saddened I don’t have any books for the little thing. Perhaps I’ll write my baby some stories.
I pick up my notebook and write a children’s tale about a fierce man who battles scary bears. The man’s name is Reed and he saves the princess in the end. I’m smiling as I scribble down the story. That is until I hear it.
Voices.
Panic clutches my throat and I whimper. It’s too dangerous to climb onto the table to look out the small window in my very pregnant state. Dad’s voice is one of them and he doesn’t seem alarmed or afraid. Still, I am worried. Quickly, I pull on my yoga pants I have to wear low on my hips—they’re one of the few pieces of clothing I can wear—and then hunt for one of Dad’s shirts. Everything of mine is too tight. Once I’m dressed and have my boots and coat on, I snatch up the shotgun and then I slowly open the door. With the quietness of a mouse, I creep around the side of the house. Dad stands with his back to the cabin talking to a man.
The man has wild golden brown hair and smiles as he talks to my father. He’s not holding any weapons. I’m still afraid because he’s taller and wider shouldered than Dad. If he wanted to hurt him, I’m afraid he could.
Chick-chuck!
I load the slug into the shotgun, ready to fire.
Dad jerks around and the guy gapes at me.
“Wh-What do you want?” I demand, my voice wobbling with fear.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man says, his palms up. “I came to see if you needed any supplies.”
“This is Atticus Knox. The fella I bought the land from,” Dad says in a soothing tone. It calms me marginally so. But the fact Dad still has the knife in his tight grip doesn’t chase away my fear completely.
“Supplies?”
“Anything you need. I can fetch it and be back in another week or two,” Atticus assures me.
“Why would you help us?” I question, anger and distrust dripping in my voice. “What do you get out of it?”
“Money,” Dad answers for him. “I have some in the safe that survived the crash in the trailer.”
“If I get you a list, you’ll get me what I need?” My mind begins to whir about all the things we’ll need for the baby. So maybe I shouldn’t shoot this man. He doesn’t look like the rapists from before. I shudder and meet his gaze with a feral one of my own.
He swallows. “Anything. Devon, right?”
My nod is clipped. “If you try to hurt us, I’ll shoot you,” I threaten.
Atticus smiles and it’s warm. “I understand. I only want to help.”
Despite the warmer temps, it’s not completely spring yet. A cool breeze from the north whips at us. The sun will set soon and I know it’ll be cold tonight.
“Are you staying for dinner?”
Both he and Dad nod.
Then, Atticus speaks again. “I thought I’d stay for a few days. Show you both some things about surviving out here that will be useful. Then I’ll be on my way.”
I finally lower the gun. “Okay.”
Dad winks at me and my heart warms. I beam back at him.
Atticus is impressed with the inside of our cabin and the fact that we utilized the cave as well. He marvels over the fireplace we made and the furniture. The bloodstains on the quilts make him look away though. For me, they’re a constant reminder of Peach, who I refuse to forget.
I stay bundled up in my big coat despite the warmth. My baby is safe from his leering eyes. But eventually I start to sweat. He and Dad chat easily sharing a bottle of whiskey Atticus brought with him. Every so often, Atticus regards me with soft, sad eyes. I don’t want his gaze on me.
“You hardly touched your stew,” Dad observes, a frown marring his handsome face.
“I’m not hungry.”
His jaw ticks but he says no more on the matter. I continue to write down my list of things I need while they chat and laugh. It irritates me that this man is in our home. I don’t want any man besides Dad here.
“There’s one can left of the mixed fruit you love so much with the extra maraschino cherries,” Dad says, his face still frowning. The worry is written all over his features. He wants me to eat for the baby.
With a sigh, I toss down my notebook and shed the hot coat. When I stand to go fetch the fruit—because just talking about it has my stomach growling—I catch Atticus staring at my pregnant belly.
Horror.
That is the only way to describe the look on his face.
I clutch it protectively as I pass by him to the cave. I can feel his unwanted eyes on me as I grab my fruit. When I pass back by him, he’s frowning.
“I’ll need stuff for the baby,” I tell him pointedly.
He swallows and nods. “Write down what you need.”
I burrow under the covers to hide and eat my fruit in peace as I scribble down items. Eventually, I fall asleep because Dad won’t let that man hurt me. But just in case, I clutch onto the shotgun behind me.
I wake with my heart in my throat as someone kisses my bare stomach. My body relaxes to find Dad’s warm brown eyes staring down at me. He helps me pull off my shirt and then removes the rest of my clothing. His mouth finds mine for a chaste kiss and I can taste the whiskey on him. I want to suck it off his tongue.
“Did he leave?”
My eyes dart to the door and I relax seeing our lock in place.
“Camping in his tent outside just inside the fence,” he tells me, his mouth kissing down to my much larger breasts.
Desire pools in my core and I whimper when he sucks my nipple hard. My belly is large and in the way but it never stops him from getting what he wants. Me. He’s clever about positioning me in ways that aren’t awkward or hurtful.
His palms rub over the swell of my stomach in a possessive, reverent way. He kisses the flesh and whispers to our baby. My heart melts each time he does it. By the time his mouth latches onto my clit, I’m so horny I can’t think straight. Being pregnant means I want sex all the time. Dad is happy to oblige.
He sucks and nibbles and teases until I’m thrashing with need. I grip his hair and beg for more.
“Please…” My moan is loud. “I need you.”
“Come for me, baby. I’ll fuck you as soon as you come.”
His words have their intended affect because I start trembling. When he sucks one last hard time, I lose myself to a
glorious orgasm. I’ve barely quit shaking when he sits back on his heels. He grabs my hips and hauls me closer.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his palm rubbing over my stomach. “I love you.”
I smile, ready to return the sentiment, but then he’s driving into me at this odd angle that only seems to work well when pregnant. His cock hits me deep and shudders wrack through me.
“Oh, God.” I’m helpless as he holds my hips up and bucks against me. All I can do is sit up on my elbows and watch him. I can’t see where he’s entering me because of my large stomach but I can see the way his chest muscles flex with each movement. I lick my lips and practically drool over the way his biceps bulge as he holds me up. His dark hair hangs in his eyes, dripping with sweat, and his full lips are parted as he fucks.
He’s my beast.
Delicious and gorgeous and wild.
At this angle, I lose control and orgasm without warning. This causes him to grunt out my name before draining his own release inside of me. He pulls out and stares at me with a domineering glint in his eyes.
I am his.
He owns me.
And I’d never argue that because I love being his.
I’m safe with him.
Always.
The next morning is awkward. Atticus is no longer looking at me in a sad way but instead with pity. I watch him, his jaw tightening, as if he’s physically keeping words in. It makes me curious. Why the sudden change?
Since the weather is nice, we all three go down to the river. Atticus has a net and he’s convinced he can catch us some fish. The water is icy-cold but it’s Dad who wants to use the net. We stand on the river banks watching my father wade out into the chilly river cursing about how cold it is.
“You’re pregnant.” Atticus’s words are clipped and low.
I frown and look over at him. “I am.”
“How old are you?”
