The Wife Code_Banks

by Charlie Hart

  Six large computer monitors line one wall, and another three laptops take up my metal desk. There’s nothing homey about my office. It’s hard and cold, just like me. But it’s here that I will save my wife. And maybe come one step closer to saving humanity and passing down my genes.

  I move around the room, turning on computers, while Tia picks up a file on my desk and frowns as she flips through the pages.

  “This is my father’s research,” she says.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get it? Some of this is classified.”

  I shrug. “Grace Ward is one of the world’s top hackers. Anything with a digital footprint isn’t safe. Thankfully she’s on our side.”

  “Do you know Salinger’s mom very well?” She tilts her head, studying me.

  “I’m not sure even Sal knows his mom well. She’s very secretive. But she’s brilliant. And while I don’t agree with all her methods, I do believe her intentions are good.”

  “Some of this stuff is promising.” She picks up another file, her mouth pursing, brows drawn together as her gaze scans the pages.

  I sit down at one of the monitors and type in my passcode.

  “Wow.” She moves to lean against the desk, still reading. “Did you know that Alaska has had more live births per capita in the past three years than any country in the world?”

  “Yes.” I don’t tell her that the reason is due to my research. The drug I invented, when administered properly, decreases maternal and fetal mortality by two hundred percent.

  Because it’s there in the papers she’s got her nose buried in.

  “This is you?” She looks up at me. “Your research.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “None of this is FDA- approved.” The fact that I’m allowing her to even read the document she’s holding shows how much trust I’m putting in her.

  “Oh.” She frowns and keeps reading.

  “There have been some side effects.” I inhale a slow breath, remembering the two women from the first group who suffered severe brain aneurysms. It was impossible to prove whether their deaths were the result of the drugs, the pregnancy, or just bad fucking luck. But their faces still haunt me.

  “I’ve made some progress since the original trials,” I say.

  “Can I see?” she asks.

  I nod, and we spend the next several hours pouring over my research, over the results, the different genetic coding. It’s difficult to concentrate on all the data when all I can think about is how bad I want to be between her thighs, knocking her up with my baby.

  “Do you have my file? The blood work that Salinger’s mom had drawn up.”

  “That’s classified information. I can’t access it without Grace’s approval.”

  “But you can access it?”

  I study her. “I can.”

  “Grace told Sal that there was something different about me. I want to know what it is.”

  I tap my fingers on the table, then turn back to the screen and type in my passcode, before scrolling through the database, and finally finding what I’m looking for. After jumping through a few hoops, I manage to bring up Tia’s most recent lab results.

  Tia leans beside me, her arm brushing mine, and I’m instantly hard. But I don’t think she has any clue what she does to me.

  “There,” she says pointing at some numbers. “That’s an anomaly, right?”

  Ignoring the painful erection that presses against my pants, I focus on what she’s pointing at.

  “That can’t be right.” I scroll through her original blood work that was drawn up when she first entered the wife lottery and the numbers are the same.

  “What does it mean?” she asks, so damn close I can feel her breath on my cheek, the heat of her body radiating between us, causing me to lose my focus, shredding my control.

  “I don’t know.” I cough and lean back in my chair, dragging my fingers through my hair. Then one horrendous thought sucker punches me. I look over at her. “Did your father... did he ever experiment on you?”

  Her bottom lip pulls between her teeth, and she looks away. “I think so.”

  “You think so?” I sit up, anger tightening my chest.

  “There’s a lot I don’t remember. But...”

  I twist my chair towards her. “Tell me.”

  “There’s one memory I have when I was about thirteen. I thought I had meningitis, but I think he may have injected something into my spinal cord.”

  That rush of fear mixed with a sliver of hope is back.

  “Jesus, Tia. Is it possible...?”

  “What?”

  I shake my head and start typing, sifting through years of data, the fragments of information Grace had provided me with until I find what I’m looking for.

  “I think it’s possible you might be patient C65.” I turn the monitor so that she can read. “Until recently, it was thought that your father’s studies were conducted on rats, but there is evidence he was using women. Look at the similarity between your numbers.”

  She frowns, her eyes scrolling through the words. “If it’s true...”

  “You may hold the key to Warren Thorne’s most important work.”

  “Wha-what happened to the others?”

  I cringe. “Infertility. Illness. Death.”

  “My-my father wouldn’t have done something that could have... could have killed me.”

  I take her hand, understanding her not wanting to believe that someone who was supposed to love and protect her, would knowingly put her at risk. But wasn't that exactly what I was doing?

  But this knowledge only amplifies my reasons to get her pregnant.

  “If you are this patient, then it isn’t just Lawson who will be after you. You getting pregnant will be your father’s greatest case study.”

  “You think what he did to me... helped? That maybe I’ll be able to carry a child to term? That I won’t...”

  Die. I know her unasked question.

  “I don’t know. Won’t until you carry a child.”

  Her arms wrap around her chest and she shivers. She’s such a contradiction. Strong, yet vulnerable. Smart and determined, but still led too much by her damn emotions.

  I know it’s wrong of me, but I use that weakness against her. For her own good. Because I will keep her safe, and I will bring a child into this world. For her, for the other men, for me... and for the future of this world.

  “You want to protect the people you care about,” I say, taking her hands and leaning forward so that she meets my gaze. “Doing this, you not only protect your husbands and the woman on that damn list but when you survive this, you could provide the key to saving millions of women, help create countless new lives... new families.”

  She chews on the inside of her lip. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Even though it’s the answer I want, something inside of me squeezes and a small shiver of fear ices down my spine. I push the emotion away.

  Can’t feel.

  Won’t.

  It’s too fucking dangerous.

  “When can we start the fertility treatment?” she asks.

  “Today.” I push my chair back and stand, then cross the room, pulling out a vial and syringe.

  “To-today?” She stutters over the word. I hear the fear in it.

  If I wasn’t so damn callous, I might try to comfort her, give her some reassuring words. But words and caresses don’t save lives.

  “I’ll be injecting you with hCG and a follicle stimulating hormone.”

  “Okay.” She twists her hands together.

  I flick the syringe, then turn. “Take your pants off.”

  Her cheeks go red.

  “I need to inject this into a muscle, preferably your ass.”

  “Oh, right.” Slowly, she undoes the button of her jeans and shifts them over her hips and steps out of them.

  Jesus, the woman is f
ucking perfect. I’ve seen her naked before, but even in the harsh lighting of the office, her skin is flawless.

  I swallow hard, ignoring the hard on that presses painfully against my slacks. “Hands on the counter and bend over.”

  She lets out a shaky breath and does what I say.

  I run my palm over the curve of her ass, and it takes all my self-control not to rip off her thong, unzip my fly, and bury myself balls deep inside of her.

  “Christ, Tia,” I murmur. My hand itches to slap her soft, ivory skin, but I hold back. Instead, I inject her with the serum, then take a step back, adjusting myself before she sees the evidence of what she does to me. I say gruffly, “All done.”

  She pulls her pants back on and turns. “How often do we have to do this?”

  “Once a day.” A silent groan builds in my throat, knowing I’ll be this fucking close to her that often. “I’ll bring the syringes and vials home, so you don’t have to keep coming here.”

  She nods, but says, “I think... I don’t think the others are going to be happy about this.”

  “You’re not thinking about keeping it from them, are you?”

  “No. There have already been too many secrets.” She gives a small smile, one filled with apology. “Plus, I’m going to have to tell them if I’m going to get pregnant.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She chuckles. “They’re kind of an essential part of this formula. And I did tell them last night that I needed a... break.”

  “Oh, right.” And I realize the way she spoke about the men, about getting pregnant excluded me but I’ll be damned if I don’t have my way with her.

  Your own damn fault, my mind reminds me. I know it’s true, but it still does something to me.

  Hell if it isn’t jealousy that burns in my throat.

  Push it down, every rational part of me warns. I have to keep my feelings in check and remain in control.

  “You think this will work?” she asks. “That I’ll get pregnant before Lawson comes back?”

  “I hope so. But if not, Salinger will give him that list.”

  “I can’t let that happen.” She shakes her head, eyes wide.

  So fucking self-sacrificing.

  “Then you better start working on plan number two.” If I thought she could handle what I want to do to her, I’d start working on it right now. I might just do it anyway.

  As if sensing my conflict, she moves towards me, her gaze holding mine. My balls get so fucking tight against my body when she places a hand on my chest.

  I can see in her eyes what she wants, what she needs from me. But I’m not like her other husbands. I’m not wired the same way. There won’t be any gentle caresses from me, no secret kisses, or flowery words.

  “We should go home,” I say.

  “Home?” She gives a small pout, fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt. “I thought... I was hoping we could spend more time together.”

  I know what she’s asking and I want to give it to her, but I’m not sure my self-restraint is good enough. I’ll end up breaking her. She’s still too damn fragile. Too innocent. Too good.

  She’s stronger than you think.

  Maybe my real fear isn’t if she can handle my deepest desires, but that she’ll reject me for them.

  “Tia.” Her name is a warning on my lips.

  “I’m going to do this. Get pregnant. I trust you to keep me safe. But there’s something I want from you.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to make love to me.”

  “No.” I tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and tug gently.

  She frowns up at me, hurt in her voice when she asks, “Why not?”

  “I don’t make love, Tia. I fuck. And I fuck hard. Is that what you want? Do you think you’re ready to handle my demands?”

  Her answer is a small whimper, “Yes.”

  And with that, I know it shouldn’t be her I’m worried about breaking, but my own damn soul.

  Chapter 4

  Tia

  There is so much about Banks I don’t understand, but the parts that I do, turn me on in a way that is entirely new. Being here, in his lab with him, gives me insight that I hadn’t had before.

  He’s smart. Brilliant, really. I’ve never sat next to a man and analyzed research before today. It was exciting and stimulating and made me proud to be this man’s wife. Intelligence and dominance. Yes, those are two words that I would use to describe this husband.

  But then I slipped off my pants and his hand brushed against my bare ass and I could hardly breathe. It wasn’t the injection that made me short of breath, it was picturing Banks looking at my bottom, imagining him running his hand between my thighs and feeling my desire.

  He says he won’t make love to me. That he only fucks, and this is why he is so different than my other husbands.

  Fallon wanted my devotion. Giles, a virgin, wanted my commitment. Salinger refused to sleep with me unless we shared something more than chemistry. Emerson and Huxley smile as we make love, showering me with sweet words and unabashed allegiance.

  Banks though.

  He doesn’t want my heart. He only wants my body.

  And I don’t know what he wants to do with it.

  I don’t think I care.

  “You sure you want me? I’m not sure you can handle me,” he says, a dark glint in his eyes. It only flickered for a second, but I know I saw it.

  I nod, licking my lips. My fingers ache to run over the erection in his slacks. “Yes, I want you, Banks.”

  He frowns but even still, there is a hint of pleasure on his face. “You mean you want me, Sir,” he emphasizes the word ‘sir’ when he says it.

  I lift my eyebrows, my nipples hard. My body hums to life at his request. “Yes, I want you, Sir.”

  He nods, undoing his belt and removing it from his pants. Slowly he slides the leather from his belt loops and folds it in half, in his hands. I don’t know his plans for it, but I’m more than intrigued. My body is primed.

  “Then what are you doing on your feet, wife?” he asks, taking a step closer.

  A question rises to my lips, but he’s already lifted my ass from the floor and set me down on a cold, metal table.

  “Oh!” My eyes widen in surprise.

  His strong hands remain on my waist, and his fingers slide under the fabric of my pants and thong. Slowly he peels them down past my thighs, my knees, my ankles.

  Then he lifts the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head, the bright light of the lab room shining down on every imperfection, but Banks looks at me with nothing but absolute desire.

  I cross my arms, hating the roll in my stomach when I sit here before him, but he shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine.

  “I want to see all of you. No hiding.”

  Twisting my lips, I see that he loves the build-up and I will do my part to please my husband.

  I play the game he wants me to play. “In that case, Sir.” I try to hide my smile as I say it. “Can I please remove my bra?”

  A flicker of a grin sends a thrill over my bare spine. “You’re a quick learner.”

  “And I want to learn everything you have to teach me.” I spread my knees apart ever so slightly.

  He groans, adjusting himself as I offer my pussy to him.

  “Take it off, wife.”

  I do as he says, reaching behind and undoing the hooks, tossing it aside. Sitting up straighter, I can’t deny the need I have to please him.

  “Fuck, Tia,” he growls, looking at my breasts. I know he likes them. When we’ve been in the hot tub, I’ve noticed him looking at them longingly.

  My fingers circle my breasts, my nipples hard as I pluck them.

  “Do you like them, Sir?” I ask, teasing.

  His clean jaw tenses. “I fucking love them.”

  We’ve never kissed and I wonder if now we finally will. But instead of lowering his face to my lips, he presses his mouth to my breasts, kissing the
m, sucking them, licking them. I run my fingers through his cropped hair, my knees spreading wide, wanting his hardness to press against me.

  “Good God, woman,” he groans as he unzips his pants. I help him push them down, greedy and wanting to touch his length. To feel him in my hand.

  “You’re so hard,” I whisper as he runs his fingers over my skin. My hand moves to his cock, feeling the velvety smoothness in my palm and picturing him pressing himself deep inside of me.

  “Kiss me,” he demands, and I willing do as he asks.

  Our mouths crash together, his lips parting as our tongues collide. I inch to the edge of the table, wrapping my legs around his body, his thick cock pressed against my belly.

  His hands pull at my hair as his soft lips press hard against mine. I close my eyes, whimpering as he pulls me back, my chin lifting, my eyes on his.

  “You want me to fuck you?”

  He’s making me say it. He’s making me beg and I like it. I like the fact that he’s making me ask for more. With bated breath, I answer, “Hard, Sir. Fuck me hard.”

  And his eyes go wild with desire as he pulls me from the table, as he turns me around. For a moment he drops to his knees, burying his mouth against my ass, his fingers in my slick pussy. My hands on the cold metal table as he fingers me into submission.

  “You like that, wife?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I moan, loving it. Loving the intensity and the rush. Loving the way the word Sir spills from my lips. I want and need Banks to tell me what he wants, how he wants it, and where.

  I gasp as he stands, inching his hard length into my swollen pussy. I’m slick with heat and he knows I’m ready.

  Moaning, he thrusts his hard cock deep inside me and I cry out as he buries himself. So damn deep, I feel like I might explode from the sensation of it.

  “Harder,” I beg. “Please.” I really don’t know if I can take it harder and deeper, but I want to see what Banks will do.

  I have a feeling we’ve just tapped the surface of where he might lead me.

  Right now, as his balls slap my pussy, and he holds onto my round breasts as he barrels against me, I will go anywhere he wants.