by Marla Monroe
Heather could feel the gathering electrical current pulsing in her clit as he manipulated it. Fire flowed through her veins as the heat gathered inside her cunt. He groaned and pinched her clit. It was all it took to send her over the edge. She bit her hand and groaned as she felt Bolton shoot his cum deep inside of her.
He huffed, trying to catch his breath. He slowly stood up and helped her to stand as well. They fastened their clothes and straightened them before looking at each other and laughing. She felt like she’d snuck away from school to have a quickie behind the bleachers. Bolton picked up the bucket of milk and they carefully negotiated the icy snow back to the house.
Brandon was nowhere to be seen. There was tomato gravy and biscuits on the stove. Heather felt guilty then. She hadn’t fixed his breakfast before he’d gone out in the snow to take care of the animals. Then she wondered if he’d heard them and knew what they’d been doing. She grimaced. What if he did? It wasn’t like he wanted to do anything with her. She put away the eggs and skimmed the milk before putting it away. She would fix soup for lunch and makesandwiches as well.
When the men came in later, she had everything ready for them. They ate, then retired to the living room to rest. She had just put on a new log, so the room was nice and toasty. She went to Brandon and curled up in his lap where he sat in one of the lounge chairs. He didn’t push her out, but he didn’t hug her, either. She refused to give up on him. Several hours later, he picked her up and sat her on the couch.
“Time to check the cows again.”
Bolton stood up and stretched. He walked over to Heather and kissed her before following Brandon into the kitchen to bundle up and head outside. She didn’t bother getting up to watch them this time. She continued sitting on the couch thinking about life and her need to please Brandon despite his obvious resistance. He’d wanted her once.What was different now?
She thought back and realized it had all started after she’d first gotten there and argued that she was just a possession to them. Had he gotten so mad at her for that, that he no longer wanted her? She hated to think it was all her fault. Why was he holding a grudge when Bolton wasn’t?
Heather was still thinking about it when the men got back for the night. She hadlet the fire die down, and realized she was cold. She hurried to add a log, then went to serve them the last of the soup and leftover biscuits from breakfast.
She hugged them both and told them she was going to call it a night and go to bed early.
“You okay, Heather?” Bolton asked.
“I’m fine, just tired today. I’ll see you when you come to bed.” She kissed him and headed upstairs.
She didn’t miss the fact that Brandon avoided her kiss by getting up to go into the kitchen. She tried not to dwell on it, but couldn’t help that it hurt just the same. She vowed to get up early enough to join him in the shower and help him bathe. He couldn’t very well push her out. At least she hoped not.
Chapter Six
Heather woke up and noticed that both men were already up. Damn, had she missed Brandon? She listened and realized someone was in the shower. She climbed out of bed and slipped into the bathroom. Whoever it was would get her attentions this morning.
She turned the corner to walk into the shower, and stopped dead. Brandon was in the shower with one hand wrapped around his jutting cock and the other squeezing his balls, jacking off. She must have made a sound, because he turned and looked at her.
“Fuck, Heather.”
“You can’t fuck me but you can jack off. That’s why you never feel like fucking me. You’ve jacked off in the shower thinking of someone else. Hell, fine. Think about someone else, but I’m not even a poor substitute. I’m not worth fucking at all.”
Brandon slapped the back of the shower stall. “It’s not like that, Heather. You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand. I’m nothing to you except as a maid and working around the farm. I’m not even as good as a whore. Do you have any idea how badly you’re hurting me?”
She ran out of the bathroom and pulled on her jeans without underwear, and her shirt without a bra or thermals. She swallowed back the tears and raced out of the bedroom as Brandon walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.
“Heather, come back here. It’s not what you think.”
She passed Bolton on the stairs. He grabbed her arm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ask your fucking brother. I’m going to get the eggs and milk. It’s about all I’m good for.” She pulled her arm from his grasp and hurried down the stairs.
She donned her coat and scarf and gloves, and grabbed the buckets before slamming out of the house. Now the tears fell in great rivers. She could hardly see to find her way to the chicken coop. When she drew closer, she heard the birds screeching and flapping around inside. What in the hell was wrong with them? She threw open the door and the birds flew out, nearly blinding her.
“What the fuck?” Then something hit her and knocked her down.
It growled and she felt hot breath against her face. Oh, God! It was a wolf. She screamed and threw up her arms in self-defense. It latched onto her left arm and shook her. She screamed again. The wolf continued to gnaw at her. It shook her like a rag doll. Then Bolton was suddenly there, trying to pull the big animal off of her.
She heard Brandon from a long ways away telling Bolton to move. Then there was a shot, and another one. God, her arm hurt. It felt like a thousand knives were stabbing in her over and over. Bolton knelt by her, yelling at Brandon to help him. He picked her up, and the pain was too much for her. Heather passed out.
* * * *
Bolton rushed her in the house with Brandon right behind him. They ran up the stairs and laid her on the bed. She was white as a sheet. Brandon cursed and pulled a knife from the bedside table to cut the coat off of her. Thank God she had it on. It had taken most of the bites, but not all of them.
“There’s so much blood, Brandon.” Bolton pulled her boots off of her while his brother cut the coat off.
“Go get all the first aid supplies we have. Everything.”
Brandon managed to get most of the sleeve off and found that she had multiple bite wounds up and down her arm. She had a few cuts on her side as well. He leaned in and sniffed. He didn’t smell bowel, so he assumed nothing had been punctured. Hell, what could he have done if it had been punctured?
Don’t borrow trouble. Concentrate on what you can do.
He grabbed a towel and wrapped her arm in it to help staunch the flow of blood. He squeezed. She didn’t so much as flinch. She should be screaming in pain right then, but instead she lay as if dead.
Just as Bolton returned with a huge box of supplies, she began to shiver.
“Ah, hell. She’s going into shock. Bolton, cover her up and put a pillow or two under her feet.”
He hurried to stuff the blanket around her, and then elevated her feet like Brandon had said. Then he stood and watched as Brandon removed the towel to see how the bleeding was.
“Shit, Brandon, what can we do?”
“Calm down, for one thing. We’ve got to sew up these cuts, but we’ve got to clean them first. I think most of the bleeding has stopped.” Brandon swallowed and prayed they could do this.
“Go get several hot, wet cloths and the hydrogen peroxide.”
While Bolton was gone, he checked the wounds for debris but found none. Thank God for the snow. It had been clean, so all they had to worry about was the saliva and teeth from the wolf, which would be dirty enough.
“What do you want me to do with them?” Bolton asked.
“Pour the peroxide all over the wounds first. Then we have to clean them with the cloths.”
Bolton poured the peroxide all over her arm. Brandon lifted it, and he poured it on the back side as well. Then they each took a bath cloth and cleaned at the wounds. Brandon made sure they got the ones on her abdomen as well. Once they had them as clean as he thought they could manage, he rummaged
through the box and pulled out all the sutures they had.
“We’ve got to sew her up now, Bolton. We’ve sewed each other up, so we can do her. We need to hurry before she wakes up, because we don’t have anything to deaden her arm.”
“Brandon? I don’t know if I can.”
“Get hold of yourself, Bolton. You have to. I can’t do it all. Start with the ones on her side.”
Bolton got on the bed, and Brandon pulled up a chair to make sure he would be steady. Then he made the first stick of many.
He swallowed hard when she began to stir. He was only halfway through with her arm. Bolton was finished with her side, and had started on her arm with him.
“Oh, what are you doing to me? Please, don’t do that anymore.” Heather began to thrash on the bed.
“Hold her, Bolton. We have to finish this.”
Bolton turned white, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her still, talking to her the entire time. He kept swallowing as if he were trying not to get sick.
Brandon ground his teeth and kept going, trying to shut out her screams. Finally, thankfully, she fainted. Bolton was crying. Brandon felt tears dripping from his own face. God, he had nearly killed her stitching her up. By the time he had finished, he’d broken out in a cold sweat and felt as if he was going to be sick.
“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Bolton asked.
“If she doesn’t get an infection, she will.”
“I don’t think the wolf was rabid. It wasn’t foaming at the mouth. I think she got in the way of him getting to the chickens, and he attacked her.” Bolton looked back at where she lay under piles of covers.
“I fucking should have gone after the damn thing when we found the prints.” Brandon ran a bloody hand through his hair.
“We didn’t find any other prints.There was no reason for us to think it was still around. It’s no more your fault than it is mine,” Bolton told him.
“If she hadn’t found me in the shower jacking off, she wouldn’t have run out there in the first place.”
“You were doing what?” Bolton stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.
“I’m going to get rid of the wolf and salvage what we can of the chickens. You stay by her and keep her warm. If she wakes up, give her as much water as she’ll drink.”
“Don’t you fucking walk away from this, Brandon.”
“Leave it be for now, brother. We can fight about it later. Not while she’s like this.” He turned and stalked out of the room. He had to get away before he broke down.
He pulled on his coat and gloves and walked outside to breathe in the fresh air. The bite of cold helped to clear his head some, but not enough to stop the tears. He’d fucked up big time. After a few minutes standing in the freezing cold, he walked over to where the wolf lay in the snow and dragged its carcass over toward the woods. He would have to figure out a way to bury it. With the ground frozen, he wasn’t sure he would be able to.
He returned to the barn and got a shovel, but soon gave up at digging in the frozen ground. Instead, he would have to drag the wolf as deep in the woods as he could, so that the smell of it decomposing come spring wouldn’t reach them. He dragged the thing deep into the woods until he gave out and dropped it. Then he made his way back to where the bloody snow was, He took the shovel and covered it up. He didn’t want the reminder every time he walked outside.
Most of the chickens were back in the coop. He gathered the eggs in his hat and fed them.Then shooed the remainder of them back in the coop and fastened the door closed. He would have to return with a fresh bucket to milk the cow. He resisted going upstairs to check on her. If he did, he might not come back down to take care of the cow.
What if she died? How could he go on knowing he’d caused it? He never thought she would find out what he’d been doing. It wasn’t someone else he thought about when he jacked off, it was her. It was how he wanted her to be. Brandon wanted her to be happy and in love with them. She saw him as her jailer, and not as someone she could love. He wanted them to be a family, but she thought she was only a possession to him. Something he owned. Now she thought she wasn’t even as good as a whore.
He broke down as he milked the cow, and sobbed like a child.
* * * *
Bolton sat in the chair next to the bed and watched her. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of one arm, but they just teared up again. What in the hell had Brandon been thinking? Why would he use his own hand when they had Heather? It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to. More often than not, she had been the instigator when it came to sex. She’d pushed hard with Brandon, but he hadn’t been interested. Why? Fuck! Everything was such a fucking mess.
Heather stirred and moaned. He immediately grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and shook out two. He lifted her head and tried to get her to swallow the pills.
“Come on, baby. The Tylenol will make you feel better. Swallow them and some water for me.”
She choked, but managed to get the two pills down and several swallows of water. Thenshe turned her head and fell back into a restless sleep. Her arm was swollen already. Did that mean infection had already set in? He couldn’t remember if their wounds had swollen when they had to get stitches.
Her face held a grimace, and she remained white as a sheet. He smoothed her hair back from her face, and realized there was blood matted in it as well. He got up and wet another bath cloth, and gently cleaned her face and the hair around it.
What was taking Brandon so long? He needed him. He didn’t know what to do if she woke up, and he couldn’t keep her still. He was so afraid of hurting her.
Bolton got up and straightened the bed, making sure the covers didn’t bind her. Then he paced, unable to be still. His eyes never left her face. The minute she moved her head, he was back, talking to her. He whispered how much he loved her in her ear, and that she had to get well soon. Then he did something he hadn’t done since they’d lost their family all those years ago. He prayed.
After what seemed like hours, her heard Brandon’s steps on the stairs. He didn’t come into the room, but walked farther down the hallway to his old room. Bolton heard the door close and wondered what he was doing. Why had he gone down there? Even if he needed to clean up, all his clothes were in here. At least he thought they were. He got up and checked the chest and the closet. Maybe they weren’t. It looked like some were missing. What in the hell had his brother been thinking all these months?
Thirty minutes later, Brandon walked into the room in clean jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. He’d showered and changed clothes. Clothes that had not been in the room they shared with Heather.
“I’ll watch her while you clean up. If she wakes up, she doesn’t need to see you covered in blood.” Brandon walked over to the other side of the room and looked out the window.
Bolton started to light into him, but noticed how red his eyes were. He’d been crying, and Brandon hadn’t even cried when they’d buried their parents and little sister.
“She woke up about an hour ago, enough that I got two pain pills in her and a few sips of water. She’s restless, but she hasn’t woken again.” Bolton didn’t bother to hide the disgust in his voice. He was pissed, and didn’t care if Brandon was hurting or not. He should be.
Brandon just nodded and continued to look out the window.
Bolton grabbed some fresh clothes and climbed into the shower. He didn’t bother waiting on the water to warm up. He wanted to get back in the other room with Heather. He was so afraid she would wake, and he would miss it. He scrubbed all the dried blood from his body, then rinsed off. By the time he had dried off and was dressed, he was nearly out of breath. He opened the bathroom door to find Brandon sitting in the chair bent over near her ear, whispering something to her. He couldn’t make out what it was.
He must have made some noise, because Brandon pulled back and stood up.
“You can sit with her while I cook something for us to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.
You go ahead if you can.”
Brandon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up close. “I’m not a bit fucking hungry, but we both have to eat and keep up our strength because we’re going to be staying up with her around the clock, and still take care of the damn farm.”
“Fine, fix something. I’ll eat, and I’ll take care of her while you take care of your farm.” Bolton turned away.
Brandon didn’t stop him this time. “Without this farm, we don’t have food to feed her. I could give a rat’s ass about the fucking farm, but we need it to take care of her. If it falls apart around us, we don’t have any way to feed her or make her well.”
Bolton turned around to agree with him, but his brother had already walked out of the room. He could hear his tread on the stairs. Damn, they didn’t need to be fighting while Heather was hurt. They needed to both be taking care of her. As much as he wanted to rip Brandon a new asshole, he needed his brother’s help to care for her.
A few minutes later, Heather began to moan and move her head back and forth. She still felt cool to him. He couldn’t give her more pain medication yet. It was too soon. He lifted her again and urged her to drink some more water. She resisted at first, then took a sip. She began gulping the water as fast as he gave it to her. He didn’t want her to get sick, so he pulled it back and waited to see if she acted like she wanted more. She relaxed and her head lolled to one side.
Brandon walked back into the room.
“She drink some water?” Brandon asked as Bolton settled her back in the bed.
“Yeah. About half the glass this time.”
“I’ve got you a bowl of stew and some bread. It’s the last of the loaf she cooked yesterday.”
“Did you eat?” Bolton took the bowl and bread.
“Yeah, tasted like cardboard, and that ain’t her cooking.”
Bolton spooned some of the stew into his mouth and swallowed without really tasting it. He nodded toward the bed.
