The Wife Code_Banks

by Charlie Hart

“On your back,” I tell her. “Sit up against the headboard.”

  She does it dutifully and I walk closer, then tie her wrists to the rails of the headboard.

  “Really?” she asks, a lilt in her voice.

  I say nothing. Instead, I open a drawer in my dresser and take out a blindfold. I sit on the bed and silently slip it on over her eyes.

  “Banks?”

  “What did you call me?”

  “Sir,” she whispers.

  “Good, wife.”

  The exhaustion I felt when I entered the house this morning has been replaced with lust for this woman. And I know it’s a way to forget, a way to push our demons away.

  I kneel on the bed and pluck her hard little nipples as I watch her, so innocent, yet so willing.

  She knew nothing about a man’s sexual appetite before coming here, unless Lawson whispered dirty ideas in her head. Yet here she is, knees parted, pink pussy all mine. She licks her lips as if she is fucking hungry.

  “You want that?”

  She moans a yes so I kneel over her, feeding her pouty mouth my solid shaft. “You want more, wife?” I ask, as her lips suction around my cock. I press her head against my steel rod and have her suck me off.

  She loves it, her mouth moving fast, her wrists still bound to the headboard, and when I’m close to coming I press her head hard against me, wanting my warm seed to fill her belly.

  Pulling my cock from her mouth, I wipe her lips.

  “You taste so good, Sir.” She grins at me.

  I kiss her, unable to help myself. Maybe it’s wrong to let her words cut open my heart, but they do. I feel myself opening up to her. I hate it, I want to pull away, but her lips are pure gold and I can’t resist her wiles.

  I rip off the blindfold, pull away the binding on her wrists.

  I can’t help it. I need her, want her.

  This.

  Us.

  I drag my body over hers, needing to fill her up with everything within me. I bury my cock inside her, and she wraps her arms around me, clinging to me.

  I need this woman in a way that terrifies me.

  It’s dangerous, this game. I’ve seen it before, felt it before. And it will result in nothing but pain.

  Agony.

  Death.

  Another woman buried.

  Or maybe not. Maybe for the first time, a cure will be found and Tia will be more than a statistic that breaks people in two.

  We fuck if that’s what we’re calling it. But deep down I know this time it’s different.

  It’s more.

  This is us, grappling with everything we are scared of and everything we dream of and everything we hate most about the world.

  Everything we hate about ourselves.

  We fuck our brains out. We fuck until we can’t see. Until we can’t think. Until the ghosts that haunt me are gone and all I see is the light.

  Until all I see is Tia.

  And I know I’m exhausted and can’t think straight. I need to sleep this off.

  But I can’t sleep right now unless she’s in my arms.

  The sun is going down and the room is dark and the heaviness of yesterday has curbed our hunger, pushed away our need for anyone or anything else.

  “Should I go?” she asks, after.

  I don’t answer. Instead, I wrap my arms around her.

  And I don’t let go.

  Chapter 10

  Tia

  Days, then weeks pass after the incident with the woman. Banks doesn’t talk about it again, or about the investigation but Kate and Lilah, the women I came to Alaska with, are quick to fill me in on the rumors.

  We sit around my kitchen table eating one of Emerson’s pies straight out of a pie plate. It’s late morning and the house is empty, except for Banks in the study. We are going to the lab later today, but he’s finishing up a paper here first, where it’s quieter.

  The women and I may have come here for our own reasons, but we’re all in this wild new frontier together now. And even if we aren’t exactly best friends, Kate and Lilah are growing on me in their own ways.

  Kate waves her fork in the air. “One of the husbands was charged with three counts of murder.”

  “Really?” I ask, stunned, goosebumps pricking my arms.

  “Well, yeah,” Lilah says. “He provided his wife with the drug that induced the abortion. And the other five are still being held as possible conspirators.”

  I don’t believe any of them knew about the drug, except for the one being charged. They had seemed shocked by their wife’s induced miscarriage, and each one had been devastated by her passing. That they now have to worry about charges after such a devastating loss sends a shiver down my spine.

  I’ve read that in the past there was a time when women had rights over their own bodies. But that time is over. Even here in the safest place in the world, women are still pawns, still property, with no real rights.

  Our only hope, a female child.

  “I can’t imagine,” Kate says, digging into the blueberry pie. “I mean, they knew the risks. My husbands and I all agree, if I get pregnant, I’m going to stay in bed the entire pregnancy. And Josh,” she says, mentioning one of her men. “His mother has a recipe that will up my chances like thirty percent of getting pregnant and not losing the child.”

  “Wait. What?” I ask, leaning in, my interest more than sparked.

  “I know, right?” Kate says. “It’s equal parts apple cider vinegar and cauliflower juice. Eight times a day.”

  I sit back, realizing she’s just referring to a bogus homespun elixir people tout as life-giving. In reality, it does nothing to help a fetus. But I suppose lots of people need something to cling to, even if it is a false measure.

  Lilah and I share a look, and I assume she’s on the side of science, but then she opens her mouth and says that recipe isn’t accurate. That the real tonic involves apple cider vinegar and cabbage juice, not cauliflower.

  I leave the table to refill our coffee mugs, realizing they may be my neighbors, but that’s where our similarities end.

  “Regardless,” Kate continues, as I bring the pot of coffee to the table. “It’s awful what happened to the woman. At the end of the day, she felt hopeless. I couldn't imagine finding out I was pregnant with twin girls.”

  “There were twins in my family on my great-great-great grandfather's side. It makes me scared that I might have twins myself,” Lilah admits. “All the cabbage juice in the world couldn’t save me then.”

  “Hey,” I say, reaching for their hands. “Maybe there will be a cure in time. We aren’t hopeless yet.”

  Kate and Lilah smile softly, nodding. “It’s a nice idea,” she says, offering me a smile I know is fake. Her tone though, makes me think that she views a cure as likely as I view her tonic.

  Impossible.

  Later, sitting in the study, legs curled up under me, Banks in a chair across the room, typing on his laptop, I place my hand over my belly and wonder if my fate is already sealed.

  I could be pregnant already.

  Along with the fertility shots and the ovulation tests, Banks has been taking daily samples of blood, and my arms are starting to resemble a pincushion. But it will be worth it if the child and I survive.

  Emerson comes into the room and I see Banks tense even though he tries to hide it. I’m not sure what his problem is with Emerson. It’s hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t like the man.

  He’s...perfect.

  But it’s clear that Banks doesn’t think so.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Emerson says, kissing my cheek as he leans over the couch behind me. “Are you hungry? I made an apple rhubarb pie.”

  He’s always trying to feed me. Which is hard to resist, because everything he makes is delicious.

  “I swear, you’re trying to fatten me up.”

  Emerson chuckles.

  “Good nutrition is key to fertility,” Banks says stoically, not looking up from his computer. “She should b
e avoiding sugar.”

  Em raises his eyebrows, but I just shake my head silently, telling him to let it go.

  “We’re still working,” I say, squeezing Em’s hand. “Maybe later.”

  He leans with his forearms on the back of the couch and looks over my shoulder at the notepad in front of me that I’ve been scribbling on.

  “You understand all that?” he asks, nodding to the formulas I have been working on.

  “Most of it, but...” I hold my tongue, not admitting that although Banks and I had a big revelation a few weeks ago, the research has come to a standstill.

  I stretch my legs and yawn. I’ve been putting in several hours a day, which I don’t mind because I finally feel like Banks is respecting me as an equal, or at least as close to an equal as Banks is willing to admit.

  “You’re working too hard,” Salinger says, coming into the room.

  “I’m fine.” And our time is ticking down.

  It won’t be long before Lawson comes back, wanting to collect.

  I can’t, won’t let Salinger give him his mother’s list. No matter what happens, that isn’t an option.

  When I got my period two weeks ago, a war raged inside of me. Disappointment and relief. I hate that I felt even a small amount of gratitude that I hadn’t been pregnant, but the fear of dying is consuming at times.

  I trust Banks. I know he’ll work hard to make sure I survive. That our child will survive. But there are no guarantees. And the more he studies my blood, my genetic coding, the more uncertain I get. Because it’s still uncertain if what my father injected me with will be activated when the pregnancy hormones flood my body. If they’ll help me fight the child’s antibodies, or kill me faster.

  “You need a break,” Salinger says, sitting beside me and pulling me into his arms. He nods at Banks. “We all do.”

  “Not going to happen,” Banks says, nose still stuck in his laptop typing.

  “Actually,” Salinger kisses my cheek, wrapping his body around me. “I have something special planned. For all of us.”

  I put the papers that I’d been working on down, and look over my shoulder at Sal.

  “What?” I ask.

  He grins. “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

  “I think we’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime.”

  “True.” He pours himself a drink. “There’s a hot spring an hour from here. It used to be a resort. One that people paid big bucks to go to. It’s been shut down for decades, but the springs are still there, and the building is still functional. I thought we could spend the weekend.”

  “That sounds amazing.” It really does. I’d read that there were some hot springs in Alaska that people used to flock to for the healing properties of the water.

  Banks grunts, and glances over at him.

  “Must be nice to be able to take off time whenever you want,” Banks grumbles.

  “You’re the one working yourself into an early grave,” Sal says.

  “I’m working so that our wife isn’t put in one,” Banks says coldly, and even I flinch.

  Sometimes I see hints of the man inside the stoic mask, but then there are times when I wonder if he isn’t as emotionless as he wants everyone to believe him to be.

  “You don’t have to go,” Sal says, then downs his drink, placing the glass on the bar.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Emerson adds.

  “Me too.” I ignore the hard look Banks gives me.

  “Good,” Salinger says, grinning at me. “Because we’re leaving in two hours. I’ve already packed your bags.”

  More muttering by Banks.

  When Sal and Em are gone, I move towards my moody husband and take his laptop from him, closing it.

  “What are you doing?” His jaw clenches.

  “You’re coming with us.”

  “I don’t have time--”

  “Time,” I laugh, no humor in it. “You spend all your time trying to come up with a way to save me, but you’re missing out on spending real time with me.”

  “When you’re pregnant and both you and the child are safe, then I’ll take a break.”

  “And what if that doesn’t happen? What if...”

  He stands so close but doesn’t touch me. “There are no what ifs.”

  I sigh and place my hand on his chest, feeling the spark, the need he keeps restrained.

  “Come with us, please.” A small smile tugs at my lips. “Plus, aren’t hot springs supposed to have some type of magical properties? Maybe it’s what I need to get pregnant.”

  “You can trust fairytales. I’ll rely on science.”

  “Well, biology says that I need to be thoroughly fucked in order to get pregnant,” I say teasingly. “But if you’re not up for the task--”

  His fingers dive into my hair, and he kisses me hard. “You’re trying to tempt me.” A hint of darkness flashes in his eyes. I love tempting the danger that lurks inside him. He might punish me for it later, but I want him. I need him.

  “Yes.” I lick my lips, loving seeing this side of Banks. He wants me. Badly. “Is it working?”

  He grunts a confirmation.

  “Good. Then you better be in the van in an hour. Otherwise, you’ll miss out on all the fun this weekend.”

  He’s in a corner and he knows it. “Can I at least bring my research--”

  I cut him off by pressing my hand hard against his groin. “The only research I’m going to need this weekend is biological. And we don’t need computers or textbooks, we only need our bodies. Understood?”

  He mutters in agreement and my hands softly squeeze his growing length. He slaps my ass, leaving a stinging handprint behind.

  “Good,” I say, letting go of his perfect cock and giving him a self-satisfied grin. “Then you better go pack.” I wink. “And don’t bother with swim trunks.”

  He scowls. “With all the other men there? No way.”

  I shrug, patting his groin playfully, hoping I’m driving him wild. “Your loss. But just so you know,” I tease. “I won’t be packing any of my suits either.”

  I walk away as he adjusts himself.

  Good.

  We’ve had plenty of sorrow, now it’s time we all had a little fun.

  Chapter 11

  Banks

  “Damn, Banks,” Huxley says, swimming up to the edge of the springs and splashing me. “Do you ever stop working?”

  I grunt, shaking off the water from the papers I was reading since Tia wouldn’t let me bring my laptop. I would never obey another woman’s commands but she’s different. She’s not a weak woman and she means well. Tia cares about me, maybe more than she should. Maybe even more than I’m worth, but she’s worth everything to me. I’ve tried to keep my emotions at bay but it’s so damn hard with her.

  “Something you know little of,” I say, even though I know the man is constantly working. I just haven’t figured out exactly what he does. I’m not even sure Salinger knows the truth of how Huxley really acquires all his goods.

  I put my papers, which are now soggy, down beside me and glance around.

  This part of the springs has been covered in an insulated dome-like structure, trapping in the natural heat, but I still have all my clothes on, even though everyone else has stripped down and are either goofing around like Huxley or fawning all over Tia.

  My back teeth grind together as I catch a glimpse of my wife wrapped in a Fallon and Emerson sandwich at the far side of the springs.

  Hell, I wish I could relax. Let go of all the pressure, the responsibilities that weigh me down, but there’s too much at stake.

  There are still so many damn ifs floating around my head. I’m a rational man. Probably a little stubborn to a fault. But I rely on concrete evidence, on control, and right now I feel like my world is unraveling and the harder I work, the more what ifs appear.

  What if Tia doesn’t get pregnant on time.

  What if Lawson doesn't hold up his end of the bargain.

/>   What if I can’t save my wife.

  My throat constricts.

  Death has become an old acquaintance that I’ve gotten to know way too well over the years. He takes and takes, without discrimination. Old, young, rich, poor, innocent, and cruel. The bastard is impartial.

  These men believe that their love will keep Tia safe. But I know the truth. Love isn’t a shield. If anything it only leaves a person more vulnerable to attack, because they’re blinded to the enemy that’s right in front of them.

  Time.

  And we’re running out quickly.

  Giles gets out of the spring and wraps a towel around his waist, before sitting down on a stone-cut lounge beside me, then pulling two beers from the cooler the man packed and handing me one.

  I take it.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes.

  “You want to talk about what’s eating at you?” Giles finally asks, running a hand over his beard, his wounds from the wolf attack and his time with Salinger's father now puckered pink scars that will never go away.

  But that’s the thing with injuries, both physical and emotional, even if you survived, you’re never the same afterward.

  “Nothing’s eating at me,” I say.

  I like Giles, which is saying a lot. There are not many people in this world that I respect, but he’s one of them. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to bare my soul to the man.

  His gaze remains directed forward, towards Tia, who’s now wrapped around Salinger, head back laughing at something he’s said.

  “She’s incredible, isn’t she?” Giles says, then takes a sip of his beer.

  I drown half of my own bottle, before admitting, “Yeah.”

  But I’m pretty sure my reasons are different than his. Sure, the woman is gorgeous, and my cock aches everytime she walks into a room, but it’s her mind that I’ve come to regard. She’s not just smart, she’s brilliant. And even though I hesitate to admit it to her, her contribution to my research over the past weeks has been paramount.

  “Tia told me that you and she finally consummated the marriage.”

  I glare at him. “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’re wrong about that.” Green eyes meet mine, and I hate the way he seems to read me. “And you’re still holding back. Why?”