Eight Little Letters
(I Love You)
By
Breanna Hayse
©2013 by Blushing Books® and Breanna Hayse
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Hayse, Breanna
Eight Little Letters (I Love You)
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-3013
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of Contents:
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
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CHAPTER 1
Letter #1
Her hands trembled as she unfolded the message brought to her home by courier. Silence filled the room as Faith sank to the couch, her hand rising to her lips as a single tear dripped down her face.
"Honey?" her mother sat next to her, taking the letter and reading it. "Oh my..."
"What if they don't find him? What am I going to do?" the young woman asked as she stared at the photograph of her tall, husky Navy Seal husband resting on the end table. "It was supposed to be a routine training mission. How could he be Missing In Action? Mom, I'm scared."
"Sweetheart, I know this doesn't sound like much, but this letter allows us to hold to hope. The holidays are coming and it is a season of miracles. Let's believe together."
"He doesn't even know about the baby," Faith sobbed, cradling her swollen tummy in her arms. "After all these months of not hearing from him and this comes...."
"You didn't open the box. Maybe you will find an answer."
Faith sniffled and peeled back the brown paper that the small shoebox was wrapped in. She lifted the lid and gasped. "Letters, Mom. Eight letters from Donavon, and each is numbered There's a note here saying these were found with his personal belongings and that the men thought it was important these be sent. Apparently, there has been no incoming or outgoing mail," Faith muttered, reading the note that had been placed on the top of the small stack. She lifted the pile of letters to her nose. "They smell like him."
"I have an idea," Marcy said, placing her hand over Faith's. "When I was a little girl, my mother told us of a tradition practiced by her grandparents in the Ukraine. When a loved one went to war, the family would set a place for him every Sunday and share special memories. They talked about the things that would make him want to come home. They believed that by doing so, they sent out rays of hope that would be like a beacon to bring him back."
"Mom..."
"Hear me out. I am suggesting that we do the same. There are eight letters. Seven weeks before Christmas. Let's set him a place at our family dinner and, when you get home, read one of the letters. And the last one you can read on Christmas Eve. It will give you something to look forward to."
"I could never exercise the self control needed to not tear into them. This is too much..."
"Give the letters to me. I will put one on his plate for you to take home each week. We are going to have a baby soon," Marcy said, patting the rounded belly, "and you need something to keep you focused on hope for both your sakes. Please?"
"Very well. Here." Faith handed her the box. "I miss him so badly."
Marcy handed one envelope to her daughter. "I know you do. Here is your first one, darling. Find hope, happiness, and belief in it. I love you."
"I love you too, Mom. Thanks."
Faith stood in the doorway, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she watched her mother drive away. The icy breeze coming from Chesapeake Bay reminded her that she had a toasty fire waiting to be lit. She hurried inside to the warm confines of her home where she settled on the cozy sofa and tucked her feet under her for warmth.
It had been over six months since Donavon had left, and five since she last had contact with him. His squad was sent mid-April to train Thailand marines in coastal jungle survival, and the families were warned early on that access to the internet, telephone or postal services would be severely restricted due to the field environment. During in-house training that first month, the men were permitted a weekly five-minute phone call, which was frequently interrupted by static and poor connections. After field maneuvers began, neither Faith nor any of the other families had contact with their loved ones except for an occasional generic letter sent by the team commander.
She sighed, turning the letter in her hand. She had not known about the pregnancy until after he left for the field. None of the dependents had been given a mailing address for correspondence and had been instructed that they were to go through the Red Cross if an emergency occurred. She was informed that being pregnant did not constitute an emergency, even after four long years of trying, although the staff did send her a basket of fruit with a congratulations card.
She stroked the seven-month bulge, smiling as the baby shifted within her. Donavon would have loved to be part of the process and she was saddened that he never got the chance to watch the 'bump' grow or feel it move. She felt her heart thud as fear rose, reminding her of the possibility that he might never see his son or daughter. Faith inhaled deeply, trying to calm her imagination. Her mother was right. Donavon was MIA, which meant he could still be alive. She had to hold to that hope as tightly as she could.
She opened the envelope, smiling as a dried flower fell to her lap. Carefully, she lifted it in her palm and reached for the heavy photo album that rested under the coffee table. The scent of flowers wafted from the album and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Donavon had begun to bring her fragrant, dried bouquets after her brothers had revealed that watching flowers wilt and die saddened the girl. He presented her with the album so that she could keep one flower from every bouquet close at hand, along with the scribbled love letters, secret notes, and other romantic treasures of their time together. She leaved through pages until she came to an empty spot and gently set the flower atop the sticky film in the upper left corner.
Faith unfolded the letter and smoothed it out, squinting as she deciphered his erratic handwriting.
April 14
My Dearest Faith,
I will start by apologizing for my handwriting. Admittedly, it is horrid. It is a good thing that my job doesn't require I sit at a desk writing notes and looking pretty, huh? We leave that job for the Captain. It is hot, humid and miserable here, and I am SO looking forward to the giant man-eating bugs and snakes I will get to see. NOT!
Damn, girl, I miss you already. I know I am not much of a letter writer, so please forgive my awkwardness. I don't even know how to get the letters to you, but one day they will be in your hands and you will know exactly what I feel about you and how hard it is for me to
be out of your arms.
I wanted to say I'm sorry for the fight we had before I left. I was a jerk, baby. I never should have expected you to just accept what I do at face value. I promise to make it up to you when I get home, including what I certainly owe you for that horrid little tantrum you threw. I was truly confused about what you wanted from me. Did you think I would rather spank the tar out of you or make love to you until you passed out on our last night together? Good thing that I had no qualms about performing the latter that morning, but still we should not have left it where we did. I will always regret that foolish choice.
I LOVE YOU. Those Eight little letters spell the words of how much you mean to me. And words are never enough to fully express what is in my heart.
Yours Forever,
Don
Faith read the letter again, her ache crushing her chest. She closed her eyes and recalled their last evening together. If only she had known she was pregnant at that time!
* * * * *
It was April 12th, two days after celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary. Faith watched as Donavon placed his uniforms and personal affects neatly on their king-sized bed. The furrow in his brow told her that he was running through a mental checklist of needed items verses his ability to carry the pack with him in the field.
"You need more socks," she commented.
"I can always wash and dry socks, baby girl. I am more concerned about being able to sleep off the wet jungle floor. I need room to carry the hammock."
"Put socks in your boots. And bring extra toothpaste and soap."
"Sweetheart, " Lt. Commander Donavon Fuller, US Navy Seal, turned to his petite wife of five years, "I've been doing this for a while. Trust me. This isn't the first time I've been deployed overseas."
"Why can't they come here? Why do you have to go the Thailand?"
"Primarily because the jungle and beach heads that need training are there. Plus, it is easier to send a squad of six to Thailand in lieu of sending a platoon of thirty men here."
"Well, I don't like it. I think it's time we retire and have a normal life."
"I have quite a ways to go before I retire, baby. You are getting pouty again. These little fits are becoming much too frequent. Are you feeling okay?" Donavon paused to study Faith's scowl.
"Fits? Just because I want you to be here with me instead of being on the other side of the world doesn't mean I am throwing a fit."
Donavon's grunt was enough to send Faith into an uncontrollable tizzy, amplified by the hormones associated with the unknown pregnancy. She stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her and stomped downstairs to the kitchen. Donavon followed, snatching her wrist in his large hand and forcing her to face him.
"What the hell is wrong with you? This is my job. You knew that when we first got together. I've been gone before and you have never behaved this ridiculously," he scolded.
"Let go of my wrist. You are hurting me," Faith hissed.
"I'm not hurting your wrist," Donavon growled back, releasing her. "But I will be blistering that backside if this attitude doesn't adjust itself in the next two minutes. I have to leave in the morning. Do you really want to say goodbye like this?"
"You just don't understand!" Faith yelled in his face. Neither did she. This emotional reaction was uncharacteristic and confused her as much as it did her husband. She threw a water bottle across the room. "You don't even try to understand. All you ever think of is yourself."
She had seen Donavon's cheek twitch as he tried to maintain his temper. She knew that he was a man accustomed to being in control and demanded respect from those around him, especially his wife. She also acknowledged that he deemed her behavior not only as odd, but also unacceptable in his book. She didn't care, though. She simply wanted to lash out her anger, frustration and fear.
"Lower your voice, please. I have not done anything to deserve this reaction. This is my job. A job that puts a roof over your head and food on the table. A job that allows you to stay home and do whatever you want to do. A job that you only complain about when it interferes with your own comforts. Go to bed, Faith. I'll wake you before I leave," he ordered coolly.
Faith mumbled some obscenities as she angrily retreated to the bedroom and cried herself to sleep. She was oblivious to his presence as he completed his packing, nor did she feel Donavon's large body slide in beside her. She slept deeply, unaware of how he wrapped his arm protectively around her slender waist. She never heard the words whispered in her ear of his love and how much he would miss her, and how he wished he could make the separation easier for her.
She did awake to the aching need to have him buried inside her body as he dragged the tip of his tongue across her extremely sensitive nipples. He straddled her knees, leaning forward to capture the rouged buds between his lips.
"Ow," she murmured, wincing. "Easy. They are really tender."
"Sorry, baby. Better?" Donavon asked, softening his caresses. "Your breasts are swollen. Is your period due?"
"I don't know. I'm never regular. I'm really not in the mood..." she grumbled, still put off from the previous night.
"How about this? You never say no to me here." Donavon smiled agreeably, slowly sinking his long cock into her clutching sheath. Faith groaned, accepting him completely. He was right. She never refused his cock. It was too delightful. He surged gently inside of her, moving smoothly as he relished the feel of her silky walls caressing his flesh. Faith's nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders, pulling him deeper inside. She wrapped her legs around his rock-hard buttocks and anchored him within. As he pulsated in and out, Faith arched her hips to meet his rocking motion, meeting his rhythm as they both began to work up to release.
"More," Faith begged huskily, her pelvis thrusting with greater demand as it milked his cock. "Harder!"
Donavon clenched his teeth as his movement increased and the agonizing ache to his balls increased in intensity. Unable to withhold, he exploded with a loud grunt, plunging into her depths and pouring streams of hot juice to the very back of her vault. The sudden surge of his heated cum sent her over the edge as well, and Faith bore down upon him with hungry desire. He moaned as the walls of her vagina grasped him tightly, sucking him inside with no intent of releasing him any time soon.
It was pure sex. Driven by an animalistic need to bond in the most primal way, Faith laid her claim upon her husband by sinking her teeth into his shoulder.
"Hey! No biting!" Donavon stated, pulling her teeth off him. "You broke skin, you little hellion."
Faith merely grinned and shrugged.
The previous night was forgotten as they threw themselves together again, their lovemaking boisterous and unhindered until finally exhausted, they fell back onto the pillows.
"I am going to miss you," Faith whispered, clutching Donavon's hand as she blinked at the ceiling, "I wish we had a baby for me to hold while you are gone. I'm sorry..."
"I love you, Faith. I don't need to have a child to make my life with you complete. Don't apologize for something that is out of both our hands, honey. When I come home, we can talk about adoption if you want, okay?"
"I just wanted to give you a baby that we made together. I feel like I've failed you."
"Have hope, sweetie. I know I do," Donavon said softly, pulling her head to rest on his broad chest.
"I'll try. Promise me you'll come home soon."
"You know I will. Promise me that you will go see the doctor. Something isn't right and I don't want to worry. You grew out of these temper tantrums some time ago so this surge is not normal for you."
"I know. It feels like I might be coming down with something. My belly hasn't been feeling right lately and I am always so tired. I'll get checked out, okay? It's probably just stress or something stupid," Faith murmured, softly kissing his nipple.
With a growl, Donavon pulled her to straddle him and dove his cock between her legs. She accepted him eagerly, riding him with reckless passion
* * * * *<
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Faith stared at the fire, blinking back tears as she recalled the final farewell. The command had sent a bus to pick the squad up at their individual homes and she fought back the sobs as she waved them off. The early morning air was damp, and the sound of water dripping from the gutters left an empty ache in Faith's chest. She remembered looking up at the cloudy, gray sky and casting two wishes. One, bring Donavon home safe and sound and the second, that their farewell lovemaking would result in a child.
Here it was five months later and she stroked her belly as the little bundle shifted within her. Her wish was granted with a baby due the 23rd of December. She reread the first of the eight letters and held it to her lips. Eight little letters... each one telling her how loved she truly was.
CHAPTER 2
MEMORIES... First Date
"How are you doing, sweetheart?" Marcy asked the next morning, the phone cradled under her chin as she stirred cookie batter.
"A little better. His letter helped lift my spirits a bit. What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Baking spiced pumpkin, chocolate chip and raisin cookies."
"I'm on my way!" Faith squealed happily, hanging up the phone before her mother had a chance to reply. She was in her mother's doorway within ten minutes, sniffing around for the finished pastries. Marcy laughed, gesturing to the kitchen table.
"Sit. I made you some hot cider and the first batch will be done in five minutes. "
"You're the best, Mom. Mmmm," Faith lifted her nose to sniff the warm air. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"
"You are going to be a mother soon. There is nothing a good mama won't do to keep her child from hurting. I can't make Donavon come home sooner, but I can keep you filled will memories and cookies," Marcy said, sliding two piping hot cookies on a plate and handing them to Faith.
"This is nirvana," Faith groaned, sinking her teeth into the fragrant treat. "We should freeze some of these for Donavon when he comes home. These are his favorite."
Eight Little Letters (I Love You) Page 1
