Beauty and the Barbarian

by Nikki Winter

  “Boxer-briefs,” he drawled, finally sitting up to throw his legs over the side of the bed.

  “I don’t care what they are! Just find them!” She was going to pull her hair out.

  Mackenzie went to turn away and gasped when she was swung back into Ashleigh’s chest. Before she could open her mouth to bark another order, he swooped down and pressed a hard kiss to it. In an instant she melted against him with the stroke of his tongue.

  Pulling back, he swept his lips over the tip of her nose and greeted, “Good morning, plums.”

  She swallowed and buried her face into his chest, mumbling, “Mornin’.”

  He rubbed her back and rocked her a bit. “Are we calm now?”

  Mackenzie nodded. “Yeah.”

  A hand came down on her ass and she jumped. “Good. Now help me find my panties.”

  Snorting, she pushed away from the oversized eejit and went about the room, stopping when she spotted his underwear.

  “I’m waaaiiittting,” Arista announced.

  Mackenzie tossed the underwear to Ashleigh, motioning for him to hurry up. He jerked them up his legs along with his shorts, settling both around his narrow hips. When things looked to be in place again, she sucked in a deep breath, walked towards her bedroom door, unlocked and opened it.

  Arista stared up at her, thin arms folded over her chest and her eyebrows curving towards her hairline. With her curls all over the place, wrinkles in her pajamas and a pillow crease on her left cheek, the little girl scowled and asked, “Did everyone forget that I need to eat to survive?”

  Ashleigh coughed but it distinctly sounded as though it were covering a laugh and Arista’s focus lasered over to her father. All annoyance seemed to drain and her shoulders dropped. She looked from one parent to another, threw up her hands and went, “Well? Am I going to eat?”

  “Uh…”

  “Skillet potatoes and bacon sound all right to you, baby-doll?” Ashleigh questioned, coming to stand behind Mackenzie.

  “Timeframe,” Arista demanded.

  “Thirty minutes at most,” he answered.

  Mackenzie’s head swiveled, keeping up with the conversation.

  The scowl returned. “Waffles would be quicker.”

  “Yes, but Daddy doesn’t know how to make waffles like the pretty lady does.” He placed his chin on Mackenzie’s shoulder and whispered loudly, “His come out all runny and have batter balls in the middle. Uncle Hayden says they can be considered biological warfare under the right circumstances and should be served only when attempting to assassinate someone.”

  The scowl faded again. “Well if Uncle Hayden said it…”

  “Uncle Hayden is rarely wrong, darlin’; even when he may be slapped repeatedly for it.”

  A smile came this time. “He says that you hit him because he’s prettier than you and you’re jealous.”

  “Oh?” Ashleigh rumbled. “And what do you think?”

  Arista made a face. “I think it’s weird that he calls himself pretty.”

  Laughter vibrated from him. “Do we have a deal on the skillet potatoes and bacon?”

  Their daughter eyed them for a moment and then nodded. “We do.” She turned to walk away but stopped. Mackenzie’s breath caught and she waited. Arista pointed at herself and then at the two of them. “Thirty minutes, Daddy. Thirty. Minutes.”

  He held his hands up as if surrendering. “Thirty minutes, I promise.”

  With another nod and an about-face that rivaled military personnel, the little girl disappeared.

  Mackenzie released the breath she’d been holding and almost felt light headed on her next inhale.

  Ashleigh palmed her belly, his thumb swiping back and forth soothingly. “You worry too much, plums. There is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about this. There’s nothing unnatural or wrong. We’re norm—”

  “Twenty nine minutes and forty-five seconds!” Came Arista’s bellow from downstairs, interrupting him.

  Turning, Mackenzie speared him with the same arch look their child had given them minutes ago and said nothing.

  He tucked in his lips and walked away with a sigh. She didn’t move, just stood there staring and listening to Arista yell out the countdown of time every few minutes. Because…petty.

  Thirty minutes did indeed produce her child’s short order cook demands and enough nervous tension to coil Mackenzie like a compressed spring. She took to the stairs slowly, her eyes down and shoulders hunched. Shame wasn’t the right word here. That wasn’t necessarily her struggle. It had more so to do with the upheaval of everything her and Arista’s lives had come to mean. They’d had to adjust to so much. What would be the adjustments this time?

  She stopped at the doorway of the kitchen and just watched for a moment. Ashleigh sat at the informal dining table, Mackenzie’s apron draped over him, while Arista sat on his knee. One of his hands kept her balanced and the other held his phone. As he scrolled through whatever held his attention, Arista used two forks to feed them both from the oversized plate resting on the table before them. That familiar tightness in her chest returned. Home. This was home.

  Inhaling deeply, she padded in and headed for the single-cup brewing system to the left of her refrigerator. There was a mug already waiting there, full, warm and misshapen. It was something that Arista had created during a pottery class and no matter how many times Mackenzie had to re-glue the handle on to it, she simply couldn’t throw it out.

  “Mom!” her daughter greeted with far more cheer now that she’d had the proper portions thrown into her den by her keepers. “Want a potato?” She held out another fork that she’d produced from the pockets of her father’s pilfered apron, weighed down with some of the breakfast food.

  Mackenzie leaned in with a shrug and let Arista feed her. When she’d sufficiently chewed the bite, she pressed a kiss to her child’s forehead and took the seat that Ashleigh had pulled out for her. He rested an arm over her shoulders and continued on with whatever he was reading.

  A comfortable silence followed and Mackenzie was lulled into a false sense of security. A very, very false sense of security.

  “So,” Arista began in her usual mild tone. “Are you guys planning to make all the babies again?”

  Coffee found its way down Mackenzie’s windpipe and Ashleigh lightly tapped her back until she waved him off. “Huh?” she rasped.

  The little girl stared up at her with the same exasperated expression that she delivered anytime she was made to repeat herself. “Are you guys planning to make all the babies again?”

  Mackenzie raised startled eyes to Ashleigh who was still reading! She slapped him between his shoulder blades and he yelped.

  “Arista,” he said softly. “Remind Daddy to discuss domestic violence with you and how it should never be tolerated.”

  Mackenzie hit him again.

  “Woman!”

  “No one has answered my question!” Arista interjected.

  Rubbing her eyes, Mackenzie strove for calm and rational. “Sweetheart, love of my life, and darling light of the world, why are you asking if Papa Bear and I are planning to make babies?”

  “All of the babies,” her daughter corrected

  She swallowed. “Okay, all of the babies.”

  Small shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Because you and Papa Bear spent the night together in your room.” Arista lifted those wide eyes to the ceiling and her mouth formed a moue. “And that’s how you make all of the babies.”

  Ashleigh looked at Mackenzie then, imitating the child’s shrug. “She’s right. That generally is how we end up making all of the babies.”

  Mackenzie lifted her hand and he flinched away.

  Refocusing on Arista, she quietly told her, “Daddy and I are in a…transitional phase at the moment, Ari-bear. I know that this may seem confusing since Mommy was supposed to marry Michael—”

  “Which Daddy put a stop to so that Daddy doesn’t spend years and years of his life behind bars created by an oppre
ssive system,” Ashleigh muttered.

  “—But,” Mackenzie loudly continued. “We both want you to know that what you feel and what you need is important to us, it has always been important to us. So we’re not making any fast paced decisions, babies or otherwise.”

  “I’m not confused,” Arista informed her through another bite of her breakfast.

  “Oh?”

  Her daughter shook her head. “You don’t want to marry Michael.”

  Now she had Ashleigh’s attention. “How do you know that, baby-doll?”

  Arista grew quiet, her eyes squinting off.

  “Arista?”

  Sighing, she turned to them both and managed to articulate something that left them both speechless, “You don’t love him like you love Daddy. And he can never love you the way Daddy loves you. So what’s the point?”

  Neither could answer. Arista tossed up her hands in much the same way that she’d done earlier and questioned once more, “Well? What’s the point?”

  ***

  “Inappropriate touching!” Mackenzie bellowed, slapping at Ashleigh’s hands. “Inappropriate touching!”

  He laughed, ignoring her attempts to avoid the slide of his fingers against her inner thigh. “You shouldn’t have worn this skirt, plums. It’s a fucking beacon for inappropriate touching.”

  The goddamn thing was riding high up her thighs and flashing him smooth, brown, towering legs that were defined with every step she took because of sky scraper “fuck me” pumps. If they hadn’t needed to get Arista to camp on time, he may have bent her over the moment she’d exited the bathroom with the scent of coconut and hibiscus following. Her locs had been left loose and he knew it was to cover the marks on her throat. He wanted to ask her to put it back up, to show anyone among her throng of co-workers and employees that she was his. Neanderthal. Brakes. Train.

  She was having a hard enough time accepting that she was his, that she’d always been his. Even Arista had known it to be true.

  Out of the mouths of babes, he thought briefly.

  “You’re supposed to be kindly dropping me off at my office like a gentleman; expressing that southern hospitality that you claim to possess,” she argued, still trying to remove his creeping hand. “Not molesting me on the way there.”

  “That word has a horrible connotation. I’d rather we call this…failed fondling.” Her snort of laughter made his lips curl. “Now be nice and hike up the skirt.”

  “I absolutely will not hike up the skirt.”

  He shot a glance towards her, frowning now. “Why not?”

  “Off top? I have a list of reasons—”

  “Again with the list.”

  “—But the largest happens to be my intense desire to not die in a fiery crash because you wanted to play in my naughty parts while operating a motor vehicle.”

  Ashleigh eyed her again and said without thinking, “My dick is so hard right now that I could quite possibly steer with it, completely freeing up my hands.”

  She groaned. “Ash…”

  “I’ve been ordered to stay away from you until you return home today—which means no lunchtime quickie in the nearest bathroom or broom closet of your business. And Arista’s last day of camp isn’t until tomorrow. What, precisely, am I supposed to do all day, Mac? I’m going to be naked and afraid.”

  He could actually hear the annoyed sigh before it even left her. “I refuse to ask why you would be naked or afraid. Instead, I shall remind you that you’re a national sports star and should be able to easily find something to do with yourself for the next eight hours.”

  “But,” Ashleigh said, making sure to look especially pathetic. “I’d rather grope you lustily now. Why won’t you let me, plums? Why don’t you want me to be happy? Why is my joy not a priority for you in the way that yours is for me?”

  Another sigh. “You’re a sad, sad man, Ashleigh Thyne.”

  “And yet, you love me,” he pointed out. “Not to mention, I’m fairly certain that you get off on the idea of spreading your thighs and letting me touch you. You always seemed to find a perverse joy in our little truck bed rendezvous.”

  Mackenzie cleared her throat and he could see the subtle shift in her demeanor. Her thighs rubbed together and she pressed her back into her seat. “We were kids.”

  “Horny, inexperienced, easily excited kids. And now we’re adults.”

  “What’s the difference?” she asked.

  Ashleigh leered at her. “With time we’ve become horny, experienced, and easily excited.”

  She tucked in her lips but couldn’t hide her grin fully. “You’re an ass.”

  “And yours is lovely.” He waggled his brows. “Wanna show it to me?”

  Shaking her head, she looked off and muttered, “Surprisingly, I do.”

  Thank God for sweatpants, otherwise he would’ve popped the button on a pair of shorts when his dick jumped. “C’mon, plums,” he coaxed. “You want to and I want to…”

  When she shifted again, he briefly took his eyes off the road to catch a glimpse of her moving the dark fabric of her skirt up and over her hips. Satin sat between her thighs, teasing him.

  Ashleigh tightened his hands about the steering wheel and released a curse. He could touch her from where he sat. His arms were long enough, his hands big enough. But if he touched her now, he’d find himself pulling over to the nearest hidden stop so that he could fuck her. Therefore…

  “Touch yourself for me, Mackenzie.”

  She stilled and whispered, “What?”

  He adjusted himself. “Until I can do what I really want, touch yourself for me.”

  Breath. Gone. Totally.

  Mackenzie tried to pull in air and just ended up stupidly holding it. Dizziness came and she finally exhaled, her chest pushing against her blouse harshly. If she breathed any harder, buttons were going to spray all around the rental.

  “Either you do it,” Ashleigh announced in a low rumble. “Or I pull over and do it for you. Not particularly sure you’d like to see my bare ass on anyone’s blog post, darlin’.”

  No, no she would not. Why were the mechanics of this seemingly so—for lack of a better term—tricky? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t done a show, or six, for him before. Hours ago she’d been in positions that Hindu gods could rightfully admire. And yet… Maybe it was embarrassment? The setting? The fact that she honestly shouldn’t be this wet from the reminder of what they used to do together in his Bronco?

  “I’m waiting, plums.”

  The warning was loud and oh so clear.

  Fighting the trembling in her limbs, Mackenzie reclined her seat further and yanked her skirt up the rest of the way. Once done, she went to pull down her panties.

  Ashleigh held out a hand. Grumbling, she placed them in his palm and watched him happily slip them into his pocket.

  “How well behaved you are determines whether or not you get these back.” His glittering eyes briefly came her way. “I think I like the idea of your ass being bare for the rest of the day; a little reminder of why you should make sure you finish up work early.”

  A shudder rippled through her, and she had absolutely no doubt that he was sadistic enough to leave her this way all day for his own amusement. Rather than focus on that now, she took into account how utterly miserable she’d be if she didn’t satisfy the craving lashing in her gut. Mackenzie placed her head against the seat and slipped her hands between her thighs, teasing the flesh there first. She pretended as though she were in her own bedroom, where she’d done this very thing a thousand times before.

  Heart hammering, she trailed her digits up and used one hand to open the swollen and well used lips of her pussy while the other skimmed through, collecting moisture. Her middle finger flitted briefly over her clit and her lips parted on a sigh. Her breathing changed at the same time as Ashleigh’s. She circled the nub, touching lightly while her hips moved in tandem.

  “Tell me what you’re doing,” he demanded hoarsely. “Describe it.”r />
  Mackenzie swallowed, closed her eyes. “Circling my clit and it fe-feels so good.”

  “Are your nipples hard?”

  Ridiculously so. The lace of her bra abraded the tips on every draw of breath, heightening her arousal. “Yes.” When she couldn’t take the brief tease anymore, she curled two fingers inside of herself, following the curve of her pelvis.

  “You’re not talking, plums.”

  She could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears. “Fucking my-myself with my hand now.”

  “How many fingers?”

  “Two.”

  “Add another.”

  A gasp erupted from her and she added a third.

  “Feeling stretched?” Ashleigh questioned.

  She nodded, riding the sensation.

  “I don’t hear you, darlin’.”

  “Yeeesss,” Mackenzie hissed, stroking herself. She took her free hand away and brought it up her chest, cupping one breast. Her fingers tweaked and tugged a nipple through the fabric and the dual sensations threatened to push her over the proverbial edge. “Ash,” she panted.

  “I can smell you. I can smell you, but I want my mouth on you.”

  Heat spiraled as she thrust faster, her movements not nearly as agile and controlled as before. Her clit tightened, begging to be stroked and she gave in.

  “Want to tongue you again, Mac. Love the way you taste. I dream about it. All that juice just waiting to be pumped from my sweet plums.”

  She recalled the night before, how her hands had taken hold on the headboard, how Ashleigh had sucked her clit between his lips and pulled. An orgasm rose with a swiftness.

  “Love watching you come, love hearing you. You always make the sexiest fucking sounds. These perfect little whimpers that I want to swallow while I fuck you so hard that you see stars.”

  That was enough. She bit her lip to hold in the cry as she came.

  “Open your mouth, Mackenzie.”

  Releasing the bottom rim from her teeth, she allowed her lips to part again so that every sound resting there could pour out. Suddenly, the car came to a halt and her eyes opened wide, taking in the parking garage attached to where her office was.