by K. S. Adkins
That night when he emptied himself inside of me I actually cried. Though I didn’t allow him to see it, they were tears of joy. One day, when distance didn’t separate us, we would both settle down and start our lives together in truth. Even with my upbringing, I wanted children. A chance to do it right. My plans weren’t to be owned by the government forever, but that’s what happened. His plans weren’t to be owned by his father, either, but that’s what happened, too.
Watching him sleep, he wasn’t even aware his hands reached for my stomach. Maybe he already knew what I didn’t. But that night while he held me close, both hands protecting my belly, we started our family, only to have it ripped away. Like everything in my life, it seems that no matter how hard I fight there is always a force out there stronger than I am. A force I can’t fight.
I call that force fate, and I fucking hate her.
“How long this time?”
“I don’t know,” she says sadly. “I don’t have a return date on this one, Max.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “When do you leave?”
“Oh-six, I mean six a.m.,”
“Why all this training, Blue? When will it be enough for you?”
“I’m good at it Max, I like it. The only downside is not being with you. I wish I could have it both ways but it will always be you I come home to.”
“Promise me,” I order her. “Say it.”
“I promise to come home to you, Max.”
The following two days are fucking weird. She’s too quiet, too focused, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill me. The training goes beyond learning anything, and it’s I can do to defend myself against her. She is constantly growling at me to move faster, pay attention, block, and get my shit together. Twice she’s called me a pussy, and I honestly think she is so into it she doesn’t even notice she’s done it.
When we’re not training she’s on the phone with Rafe or Bishop, sometimes both. She’s putting distance between us and I don’t know why. After the showdown at the club and the attack in the alley she’s been… different. I stopped asking her how her head was, because I could only be told to fuck off so many times. As much as like her fire this isn’t fire. This is, well, I don’t know what in the hell this is.
Heading upstairs to shower I peek in our room and see her getting dressed to go out. Instantly my inner alarm goes off, and I want answers. I guarantee she was waiting for me to jump in the shower before she left, and that pisses me off.
“Going somewhere, Blue?”
“Out.”
“Out? Where?”
“I have things to do. Take a shower I’ll be back later,” she says, trying to go around me.
“I can’t let you do that, Blue,” I warn her. “It’s not safe out there alone.” Digging her fingers into my forearms she shoots me a seriously mean look.
“If you don’t step aside, Max,” she says, “it’s not going to be safe in here, either.”
“If you want to leave, I’m afraid you’re going to have to move me yourself,” I say hoping that if she chooses to fight that I can use what I’ve learned to my advantage.
“You think a couple of weeks of training means you can stop me? Don’t test me, Max.”
“Try me, Blue,” I dare her. “You aren’t leaving me. I couldn’t be any clearer. You want to leave? Do your worst.”
Before I can blink she does. She is all over me. Thing is, I know what to expect and I gave it right back to her. We fight silently, neither one makes a noise. When I’ve had enough I sweep her legs out from under her, pin her down, and gave her all my weight, preventing her from moving at all.
“Are you done?” I ask her.
“Get off.”
“How’s your head?”
“Max…”
“I’m not letting you go, so talk to me,” I tell her. “Come on, Blue; we’re partners.”
“Get off,” she growls at me, and I’ve had enough of her shit.
“Fine, if that’s what you want. But we’re both getting off.”
Running my hands between her legs I can feel she’s already wet for me. She’s always wet for me and I was counting on that. She stays stiff in my arms for about three seconds and then she tears right back into me. Part of me wants to tell her to slow the fuck down, but the other part loves it. Being attacked by your wife is never a bad thing, and the second I start having a problem with it is probably when it’s over, so yeah, I’m cool with this.
“Open,” I order her and then watch as her legs part, begging for me to get in there. Wasting no time while she’s attached to me, I undress us both and brace myself for the ride of my life.
If a grenade doesn’t kill me, the heat will.
Sitting here on the side of the road in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, the fight is miles away from us. While I have a moment of quiet, I think of him. It’s the thoughts of him being proud of me, of seeing him again that get me through. I’ve given Uncle Sam everything I’ve got; when this is over I owe him the same consideration.
That is, if I ever got out of this shithole and if he still wanted me.
What am I doing? I needed to get out of here, not watch him remove my pants with his god damn teeth. I can’t resist him when he runs his hands up between my thighs like this, shit. Pulling me toward him he orders me to open, so I do. Bottom line is he issues an order, I heed it. Another time I may fight him on it but right now I’m too fucking horny to bolt. Taking his long arm he wraps his hand around the base of the back of neck and pulls me up to meet his mouth. The second his mouth attaches to mine any thoughts of leaving flee, and the need to fuck him takes over.
After, I can leave after.
When he moves back to get better situated I realized I haven’t sucked his cock in years. Years! Rocked by the fact I’ve been denied this for so long I tackle him from the front, pin him down, then score my nails down his stomach straight down to his sac. Straddling him I cup underneath and give it a tug. When he groans I get on my knees just above him, lick my lips, and relax my throat because yeah, he owes me this.
“Blue,” he groans. “You don’t have to—”
Sucking him down the back of my throat I tighten my grip to shut him up.
“Fuck!” he yells, gripping my hair. “If you stop I swear to Christ I’ll make that ass as red as your hair.”
Stop? Who said anything about stopping? Fuck that, I’m just getting started.
Working him over he praises me in between groaning and yelling. Things like “Your fucking mouth,” and “needed this,” and my favorite, “Love you so fucking much it hurts”
With my own spit pouring out both sides of my mouth I’m soaking his cock without evening trying. He reaches between my legs and starts rubbing me in deep circles and my technique falters. Shit. I never was good at giving and receiving but I suppose you can’t be good at everything.
“Going to come,” he says, so I release him with a pop and pinch the tip hard enough to make whatever he thought was going to happen, stop. “You’ll pay for that.” He growls, pulling me above him.
Sinking myself onto him I work him up and down, side to side, and then slow and deep. “So good,” he groans, pinching my nipples. “Fucking perfect,” he says, then holds me still, grabbing my chin. “Say it,” he orders me.
“I love you, Maxwell,” I tell with him complete honesty, hoping that when he looks back after tonight’s betrayal that he remembers this. That I do love him, and that’s why I’m going to have to leave him behind.
“You fucking love me,” he says, flipping me onto my hands and knees. “I fucking love you, too.”
Then he slams it home and once again my whole world is him, Max, my husband. Thrashing, sobbing, gripping his sides it’s too much and it’s not enough. I need to scream with it, tell him how I feel. How fucking unfair life is, how I never want to leave him, and knowing that I have to. All the pain plus the pleasure is killing me.
Slapping my ass extremely hard and then pulling me back by hair h
e orders me, “Stay with me, god dammit.” he says showing me no mercy “Don’t even fucking think about it, you’re mine Blue. You leave me I’ll follow you. You are mine, and that’s a fucking order! Say it!” he says, spanking me, pounding me, and almost ripping my hair out.
“I’m yours.” I whisper.
“Don’t you fucking forget it, Blue.” Minutes later he’s coming, I’m coming, and minutes after that he’s holding onto me for dear life. When the tears start building up I tell myself, one more night. Stay one more night. I told you before, in my line of work, plans change. I should have left tonight and by staying I broke the only promise I ever made to myself and that was never to hurt Max.
“I fell in love with the wind. How do you catch the wind?” I asked myself, watching her board the plane. “You don’t,” was my own reply. Watching her walk down that aisle away from me about killed me.
Fuck, but this never gets any easier.
She’s on edge.
Constantly checking her phones and looking at the door like Satan himself is going to walk through it. We haven’t had another night like we did two days ago, and I feel her slipping through my fingers. Just thinking about our last time together makes me itch to touch her. She gave herself to me like it was the last time we’d ever be together, and part of me knows she’s waiting to run.
But then she trains with me, and running isn’t what I’m worried about, it’s that she’s preparing me for something in the event she isn’t here. Telling her I’m ready doesn’t work; showing her I’m ready doesn’t work, either. She works me harder and it’s to the point where I wonder what the fuck is it even for? Jesus, I’m confident in a fight; I can hold my own now. It’s not like all this effort is going to stop a bullet. If shit hits the fan and I get shot, bottom line it’s going to fucking hurt or kill me.
Once she’s out of the shower I head up to our room to get answers once and for all. Except hearing her getting threatened by father wasn’t something I could have prepared myself for.
“You’re getting sloppy, Pops,” she says. “Why don’t you stop sending in your cronies and come at me yourself?”
When there’s a pause I know she’s listening. “That club won’t work on him forever; one day you’ll have to do better.”
Then she issues a challenge and everything in me freezes. “You fuck with Max, this little game ends, and I come at you from all sides. You breathe because he’s your son; if he wasn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You threaten me with him again, I will fucking destroy you, Hank. You and every motherfucker you paid off in the DPD. I’m coming for you, and everyone tied to you. You’ll go down, he won’t. I’ve made sure of that. Welcome to the big show, pussy.”
I want to leave, but need to stay. Whatever happens next is huge. Seconds later she’s back on the phone.
“I need him covered,” she says, but to whom I don’t know. “Don’t talk to me about manpower. He’s my husband, Rafe. Make it fucking happen. When I’m not with him at the club, someone else is. You owe me.” Then seconds after that she’s on the phone again and my head is spinning. What the fuck is going on, and why am I not a part of it?
“How long?” she asks, then a pause. “I need more time, Duffy.” Then I hear something break “Fuck you,” she says. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I don’t give a fuck about the job. It can replaced; he can’t.”
Then she finishes her call with, “I’ll see you Thursday, and yeah.”
Standing outside the door but listening hard, I hear nothing. She isn’t moving, no other calls were made, and so I decide that if I’m going to get answers now is as good a time as any. I don’t want to abuse her ability to follow my orders, but I will if she shuts me down. I’ll use every order I’ve got.
“You gonna tell me about him?” he asks, wrapping me in a blanket. I’m having a bad day. Today is his birthday and I haven’t spoken to him in four years. Four fucking years, and his birthday still has the ability to keep me in bed.
“No,” I mumble, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
“Boss,” he says. “Guys want to know what’s up with you. What am I supposed to say?”
“PMS,” I mumble again. “That covers everything. No one fucks with you when you claim PMS.”
“Boss…”
“I said no, Bishop,” I growl. “That’s an order.”
“Copy that.”
When he leaves closing the door behind him I bawl into my pillow, wishing I had the courage to call him. He gave up on me, and even knowing that, I’d take him back if he asked. All he had to do was ask. So why didn’t he ask?
I’m fucked.
Hank doesn’t have me worried; it’s a matter of time for him before he shows his hand, and he well knows it. Rafe understood me calling in my marker, but it’s Duffy that has me concerned. He’s here. This is both good and bad. For Duffy to come ahead of the team means he’s giving me a chance to explain, which is good. When the team arrives it’s going to get bad, because my team doesn’t sit still; they act. The team is mine in the tier of things, but we’re also family. Being the lone female of the group means I’ve got a team of soldiers who think of me as a sister, a sister they are very protective of.
When the team finds out I’m married, I’m not sure how they’ll react. When they meet Max, because let’s face it they have to, that’s when it’s going to get ugly. Max is a civilian. Max doesn’t live like us, and having us all in one room could drive him over the edge. Oh, who am I kidding, it could drive my guys over the edge, too. They’ve never even seen me with another guy, let alone one I married when I was nineteen. I’m different with Max; they’ll see that, too.
My husband is a good-looking man. However, no matter how you dress him up, he looks money. My team? Yeah, well, they look like a bunch of criminals. Hot criminals. Where Bishop is big and commanding, Duffy is straight-up mercenary. He’s a six-foot-three Denzel on steroids, with a penchant for shooting first asking questions later. He lacks a sense of humor, and what we do is black and white to him. That’s why this could go wrong. I fucked up, and if I can’t get him on my side, I’d be battling my own team. None of my team is married. No kids, just the job. They won’t understand.
Sitting here at the edge of our bed staring at the phone in my hands I’m trying to figure out how I can keep control of all this. Yes, this is my team, but I compromised it when I took a job that was personal. Not by accident, on purpose. For me, this is the biggest job I’ve ever had.
When the door opens and he walks, in my breath catches at how he fills a room. He pissed again; I can’t handle him pissed. Honestly, I don’t think I can handle him at all.
“Who’s Duffy?” he asks, sitting next to me. “Part of my team,” I tell him. “He’s here.”
“This makes you sit here with your hands in your lap? Why?” He orders me to answer.
“If he doesn’t listen to me,” I explain, “and he doesn’t back me, then the team takes over; I lose the control. I need that control, Max, and you need me to have it.”
“If you lose control, then what does the team do? What would you do?”
“Use you as bait.”
“Why is that a bad thing? If I can be useful I want to be, Blue. All you had to do was say so.”
“No.” I whisper “I can’t.”
“Isn’t that what all this was about?” he says pulling me into his lap “Preparing me?”
“When I left to come here that was my intention,” I explain. “The second I saw you, I knew I could never put you in harm’s way like that.”
“You think Hank would hurt me?”
“To get to me? Yes. To get what he wants out of the club? Yes. To teach you a lesson? Absolutely.”
“All these years,” he says. “You knew, on some level you knew.”
“Yes and no,” I say. “I knew he was an opportunist; I knew he valued money and power. I knew he hated me, but I never thought he’d put you in danger to get what he wanted.”
“
Rafe has men on me?”
“Yes, but it’s just at the club. Please don’t be pissed—”
“I’m not pissed,” he says “I just don’t like being left out. I don’t have your skills, I get it, but shit, quit leaving me in the dark.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I need to prepare you for meeting Duffy and then my team at some point. Are you cool with meeting them if they show?”
“I told you,” he says, “this is your show. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“I love you, Max,” I say, putting my head on his shoulder. “So fucking much.”
“Blue,” he says. “I know because that’s how I love you. You could really lose your job over this?”
“It’s just a job,” I tell him. “I can get another. You, though? There’s only one of you, Max. You’re worth the risk, because the payoff is our happy ending.”
“I’ve waited a long time for you,” he says. “I’ll admit I never saw our reunion going this way.”
“Yeah, well, I just hope when the time comes you don’t regret the decision to have me back in your life.”
“Never going to happen,” he says. “Whatever it takes, we’ll win.”
“In this game there are no winners,” I say. “Only survivors.”
“How do I get her to stay?” I ask him while she checks in on Macy. We’ve barely had any words between us except for yes or no.
“You don’t,” he says, crossing his arms. “She has to want to stay.”
“How do I get her to want to stay?”
“You even listening to me?” he growls. “You don’t; she has to want to.”
