The Wife Gamble

by Charlie Hart

  “I love you, too, Fallon,” I tell him, wrapping my legs around his body. “No matter what happens, remember that.”

  He stills, looking at me with such intention my heart begins to crack.

  “No, Tia, you remember what I vowed. Until death do us part.”

  I nod, my heart swelling with emotion as he begins to move against me again.

  I remember. But all I see is Giles in that hospital bed.

  Death may be coming sooner than we are prepared for.

  Early next morning Emerson knocks on my door, then pokes in his head. Our eyes meet, and I press a finger to my lips. Fallon is sleeping soundly. He nods, and motions for me to come to the hall.

  Reaching for my robe, I slip it on, then cover Fallon’s body with the blanket.

  “What is it?” I ask, gently closing my bedroom door. The hall is empty, and it’s so early the rest of the house is still sleeping.

  “I didn’t want to bother you last night,” he says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears.

  He’s in nothing but a pair of sweats and his bare chest is so ripped and chiseled it’s hard to focus on his words. God, my husbands are all such powerful, amazing men. And I know that even though I don’t deserve them, I’m one lucky woman.

  “I know you had a lot on your mind.” Em moves closer, wrapping an arm around my waist. “But I’m leaving this morning and I wanted to see you before I left.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Leaving where?” My mind immediately goes to the worst.

  Leaving me. The family.

  “I got the orders yesterday, while you were still gone. It’s a two-week mission.”

  Relief washes over me. “With the Navy?”

  “Right.” He nods, taking my hand in his free one, his other arms still around me. “But I have two hours until I have to go. Maybe we could have breakfast?”

  I smile, drawing Emerson into a kiss. Without hesitation, his lips meet mine, our tongues rolling together, his cock growing hard against my belly.

  I pull back, a grin on my face. “Actually,” I suggest. “How about breakfast in bed?”

  A few minutes later we are in the kitchen filling a tray with a bowl of fresh berries and whipped cream, and cups of steaming coffee.

  My body tingles with excitement. Last night with Fallon was so comforting, but it was also as intense as ever. Right now, what I really want, is to try and be present at this moment, with Emerson.

  He’s leaving for two weeks, and God knows what our lives might look like in that amount of time. For all I know, my father could find me. I could be shipped back to the US.

  Giles could be dead.

  If this is all the time I have with Emerson, with no guarantees, I want him to remember me as an adoring wife. Because I do adore Emerson in so many ways. He is the breath of fresh air our entire family needs.

  I hate that he’s leaving now, of all times. But I know he has no other choice. If he did, I know he would stay here with me.

  “What’s on your mind, elskede?” he asks, patting my ass as I lift the tray and carry it up the stairs to his bedroom.

  I smile over my shoulder, loving the way he makes me feel. “What’s that mean?”

  “Norse for my beloved.”

  My broken heart mends in a hundred ways. “You are so good to me.”

  He pushes open his door for me and I set the tray on the bed. When I turn, he is right there, with open arms. “What else would I be?”

  “I can’t wait to meet your mother one day and thank her for raising such an amazing man,” I tell him earnestly.

  “Let’s not talk about my mother right now,” he says, with a grin.

  I won’t argue with that. Em’s hands untie the belt on my robe, easing it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

  “Damn, you are so fucking gorgeous,” he says, his eyes all over me.

  I don’t feel exposed with him though, ever. When Emerson looks at me, I feel beautiful.

  “But I know what can improve this work of art,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

  I laugh, crossing my arms. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  He reaches for the whipped cream behind us. He shakes the canister and points it at me. “Maybe a little bit here,” he says, spraying the cream on my left nipple. “And here,” he says, adding it to my right.

  My shoulders shake with laughter. “If you get to add embellishments to me I have an idea of where I can add some to you.”

  “Is that right?” he asks, dropping the can on the bed, and wrapping his arms around me. One hand massages my breast, his tongue licking away the whipped cream. My spine tingles with pleasure, and the erotic way he licks me makes me itch to spray that cream on the tip of his cock and swirl it around my mouth.

  I bite my bottom lip as he licks my other nipple. Desire ripples through me and I feel my pussy growing wet, hot with hunger.

  “Your breasts are so damn beautiful,” he tells me, as I move to push down his sweats, his hard cock springing free.

  “Eager, are we?”

  “Damn, it feels like forever since we made love,” he tells me, pushing back my hair and looking in my eyes. “I missed you, Tia.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “And now I’ll be gone. Hell, going on the ships used to be no big deal, but now I hate leaving you.”

  “I’ll be here,” I tell him, immediately wishing I could take the words back.

  Will I be?

  He must see the flicker of worry in my eyes. “I know things with you are complicated. I may be just a farm boy, but I’m no fool. I know you have secrets.”

  I swallow, suddenly scared of what he might say. Not wanting any of this to end.

  He shakes his head, reaching for the can of whipped cream. “But you know what my ma always said?”

  “I thought we weren’t talking about your mother?”

  He grins, taking my hand and pressing it against his thick shaft.

  “Well, she said there was no problem a little sugar couldn’t fix.” He pushes the canister in my other hand.

  And I laugh hard, a laugh that comes from my belly and opens my heart and my eyes.

  Hope. That is what Emerson makes me feel.

  Because there are secrets and problems and things that won’t be solved in a day or a year or a decade.

  But we are still here, living. Breathing. We have a chance. More than a chance. We have love.

  And so, I drop to my knees, looking up at my sailor who is about to be shipped to the sea. I smile despite the fear that weighs so heavily on me.

  Then I spray that whipped cream onto Emerson’s long cock, running my hand over his velvety shaft, over his tight balls. I lift my eyes, lower my head and taste the sweet, sugary cream.

  He runs his hands through my long, bedhead of hair, and I take him more fully, knowing if he is going to be sleeping in the hull of a ship, I want him to rock to sleep with memories of me. Like this, taking care of him.

  I came to this wild land not knowing how to be a wife, and in so many ways I am less qualified to be theirs than ever before. But in other ways, I am learning that being a wife begins with learning how to serve another person; how to put them above oneself.

  I widen my mouth, taking all of Emerson, my lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, knowing that serving him is a joy. An honor. It’s give and take.

  And now, I give. My hand is on his firm ass, drawing him closer as I suck him. I feel his veiny length harden, his hands still in my hair. He’s close, and I want him to press hard against me, want his release to slide down my throat and fill my belly. I want his salty come to fill my mouth. I want his manhood to imprint itself on my lips.

  While he is gone, I want to remember Emerson for the man he is, the wife he has allowed me to become. His. The moment changes from something erotic to something deeper and real. Emerson looks in my eyes, and he feels it too.

  “Elskede,” he tells me after his body is spent, and I wipe my mouth, allow
ing him to pull me to my feet. Our coffee is cold, and the berries forgotten. He kisses my lips softly and says, “I am yours.”

  I nod. He isn’t the only one who went looking up old Norse words after our conversation in the shower a few weeks ago when I traced the lines of his tattoos. I may not be a linguist, but I want to be Emerson’s.

  “And you, min skatt,” I tell him. “Are mine.”

  Chapter 6

  Salinger

  Pulling up to our compound, the first bit of hope I’ve felt in weeks, stirs in my chest after my meeting with my father this afternoon. And I can’t wait to tell Tia and the men the good news.

  But when I walk through the front door, I freeze at the sight that meets me.

  Huxley has Tia pressed against the wall, his body molding to hers, their mouths locked on one another in a scorching kiss that has my balls drawing tight against my body, and my cock turning to granite.

  Tia may have come here a virgin, but in the months that have passed even I, who hasn’t touched her can tell that she’s become a siren, fully aware of her sexuality and what she does to her men.

  It isn’t jealousy that stirs inside me, it’s want and need. I know who she is now. Better than the others, yet I still haven’t taken her. Fuck, maybe I’m just a damn coward. I know what she has with the others is special, unique. And I want the same thing.

  I cough, and Huxley is the first to glance over, a smirk playing on his lips when he sees me.

  “The prodigal son returns.” He doesn’t release Tia, if anything he holds her tighter, one hand resting on the curve of her ass. “What did Daddy have to say this time?”

  I see Tia stiffen, her gaze resting on mine, and whatever lust she’d been feeling a moment before appears to have been replaced by anxiety and fear. The only two emotions she seems to look at me with since we returned from my mother’s technological fortress.

  “Are the others here?” I ask, pulling off my jacket and hanging it up.

  “Yeah.” Huxley frowns at me.

  “Get them,” I say.

  He hesitates before nodding and wandering off to find the other men. Emerson will be gone for another week with work, but I’ve already texted him with the news.

  “What’s wrong?” Tia approaches me, wringing her fingers together and looking like she’s preparing herself for the worst.

  “We should wait until--”

  “Sal, please.” She fists her fingers in my shirt. “Just tell me.”

  God, what I wouldn’t do for this woman.

  What I probably will do before this whole thing is finished.

  I place my palm on her cheek and give a small smile. “A man was arrested this morning on charges of murder.”

  She frowns up at me. “Murder of who?”

  “The mercenaries.”

  Her fists tighten. “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s a hired gun. Hasn’t admitted who he works for or his reasons, but the gun found on him matches the bullets that were found in the dead men’s heads, excluding the man that was found buried-”

  “The one I shot,” she says softly.

  I nod. “There was more evidence, enough to acquit Giles.”

  Her bottom lip trembles. “What are you saying?”

  “My father has lifted the charges. Giles is free.”

  “Free?” The way she says it, I can tell she doesn’t fully believe me.

  I barely believed it myself when my father told me. I still have my doubts that the man accused is the one who shot the mercenaries in the cabin. It’s too much of a coincidence, and too sloppy for a man of such means to be found out. I wonder what exactly my mother did to give Tia back her husband.

  But Giles will be set free. That’s what matters. If the man is innocent, he’ll be acquitted in court. Even as I think it, I know the truth, and a shiver runs down my spine.

  “His wounds are being treated, and we’ll be allowed to bring him home in a few days.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “He’s going to need some time to heal, but--”

  She kisses me then. Her arms go around my neck, and her fingers dive into my hair as she pulls my lips to hers. It’s hard and fast, and probably means nothing to her, but it means everything to me.

  “Thank you,” she says, tears rolling down her cheek.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  She gives a small shake of her head like she doesn’t believe me. And even though I want her to see me as a hero in this story, I know I’m not. I’m just a pawn.

  I don’t need to be her king in this game we’re playing, but I do want to be her knight. Her protector. But that role is already taken.

  “Tia, I--”

  Her hands rest on my face and she kisses me again, but this time it’s softer, and when her tongue sweeps into my mouth, my body responds instantly. I deepen the kiss, taking whatever she has to give me, opening my heart to her fully.

  I need to make her mine, and soon. I’ve waited too long. Allowed fear and suspicion to push me away. No more.

  Tonight.

  Slowly, I break away, resting my forehead against hers, and whisper, “Will you come to me--”

  “What’s going on?” Fallon’s deep voice growls out, with the touch of jealousy that’s always in his words whenever Tia is too close to one of her other husbands.

  I sigh, and release Tia, saying, “Tell them.”

  She smiles then, one of the first genuine smiles she’s given me in a long time, then turns to the others. “Giles is coming home.”

  Chapter 7

  Tia

  I pace the hallway in front of Salinger’s bedroom door. I can hear him inside, talking to someone on the phone. I can’t hear his words, just the exhaustion in his voice.

  Go to him, my heart beats the words.

  I think that’s what he was going to ask me earlier today before the others interrupted. But I don’t know. Everything is so uncertain with him.

  But that kiss.

  It was different. Full of something. Full of emotion. And desire. And I’d felt the way his body had responded to mine. And yet he’s come up here and locked himself in his room, secluding himself from me and the others.

  “You okay?” It’s Huxley who asks the question, when he comes out of his own bedroom, looking like he’s going out somewhere. He glances at Salinger’s door and then back at me. “He still giving you a hard time?”

  “No.” I sigh. “Not really. I just...”

  Huxley takes my hand when he approaches and gives me a crooked grin. “You need something, all you have to do is ask.”

  The suggestion in his words goes straight to my core. But it isn’t sex that I’m wanting right now, it’s... hell, I’m not even sure what it is myself. All I know is that Salinger feels like a friend to me, an ally. Can love grow from that, or is it too late for us? Has too much time already passed to turn trust into desire?

  I haven’t slept with Banks either, but when that man looks at me I swear he only sees me naked.

  Salinger though is not like my other husbands. He jokes with Huxley but is intense with the other men and his parents. He’s complicated in an entirely different way.

  When I kissed him, I felt a spark on my end. But will that spark go out or can it ignite into something deeper?

  I want it to burn brightly.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, knowing I’m certainly not going to interrupt Salinger after all he has done for me. For our family. With Giles coming home, I feel one of the knots in my belly unfurl. Not all of them, but it’s a start.

  “The bookstore,” he tells me. “I have some business to attend to.”

  I know his bookstore is only a front for shady things he deals in, but I’m still interested in where he works. And I could use a few new books to read, now that I can relax a bit, knowing Giles is going to be all right.

  “Can I come with you?”

  One dark brow raises. “Fallon wouldn’t like it.”

  “But
I’ll be with you. It’s not like I’m going off on my own.” As I say the words, my cheeks warm, remembering the night I’d run from them.

  After a brief hesitation, Huxley nods. “I guess it would be fine.”

  “Thank you.” I hug him, but he turns it into something more like he always seems to do. The man is insatiable.

  My back is pressed against the wall and his hands roam up my body, over my breasts, then down my torso, over my hip before cupping my ass and pulling me against him.

  It’s then that Salinger’s door opens, and he walks out.

  Shit.

  That’s the second time he’s caught me and Huxley today. Not that I should feel bad for kissing my husband, but my relationship with Salinger is so fragile right now.

  I push on Huxley’s chest, but he barely budges. “Sal.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he mumbles.

  “You didn’t... we just...” God, I hate the uncertainty I see in his eyes and the smugness in Huxley’s. I push harder on Huxley’s chest and squirm out of his hold. “We were just going out.”

  “Out?” Salinger frowns.

  “To Huxley’s bookstore.”

  “You’re taking her out of the compound?” Salinger turns on Hux, but he just groans.

  “We’ll be fine. You can come with us if you want.”

  There’s a tightness to Sal’s mouth as he contemplates it. “Fallon is going to be pissed.”

  “He’s gone until later tonight.” Huxley shrugs, then slings an arm over my shoulder. “You can tell on us.”

  Salinger sighs and drags a rough hand through his hair. “I’ll go with you. In case you get into any trouble.”

  “She’s with me.” Huxley gives a crooked grin. “What kind of trouble could she get into?”

  Salinger huffs, tension pulling at his features. What happened to the easy-going man who’d first come here?

  The moment I step into Huxley’s shop, a smile spreads across my face. In all honesty, there was a thread of worry in my belly over leaving the compound, but the moment I enter this emporium I feel like a new woman.

  Beautiful hardcover books from every genre and time period line the shelves, and old antique furniture is displayed elegantly around the large room, along with a few paintings that look like van Gogh and Rembrandt originals.