Outlaws: A Romance Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  The moment the door opened, a burst of air that smelled like soot from the fireplace filled my senses. Stepping inside immediately to my left was the door to the single bedroom, while directly in front of us was the living room, kitchen, and nook. The bathroom was to my right. I remembered thinking this place was small when I was a kid, but now as an adult, the inside looked much smaller. As soon as we got the groceries put away, Lars and I headed outside.

  “Griffin, go around to the back of the cabin and fetch the wheelbarrow.”

  Blue wheelbarrow.

  Unlike when I was a kid, I didn’t run this time. The blue wheelbarrow was in the exact place where I found it eighteen years ago.

  The wheelbarrow had a joint that squeaked each time the wheel made a full rotation. As I guided it down the embankment to Lars' car, I couldn’t help but wonder how many wrongs the men in my family thought they were “righting” with this wheelbarrow.

  “The ground is really soft,” I informed him as I approached the car.

  Lars didn’t seem bothered by the soft ground. He said that would make quick work out of this. Right, easier to dig. It had been overcast since we docked in Manitowoc early this afternoon. I just hoped the rain that was in the forecast would keep at bay until we finished.

  Together, we pulled the body bag out of the trunk and set it gently into the rusted blue basin of the wheelbarrow. At a slow and steady pace, I pushed the wheelbarrow up the hill again. When we reached the back of the cabin, Lars stepped away from me and jogged toward a woodshed with a green metal roof that matched the cabin’s roof. I caught my breath and waited patiently for him to come out of the shed. Soon he appeared with a burlap sack with a shoulder strap. He swung the sack over his shoulder and then reached into the shed and put two white bags on top of the body bag. Sticking out of the burlap bag were a few long-handled tools that I assumed were shovels.

  “What’s in the bags?”

  “Lime,” Lars answered.

  Right. Lime. Of course.

  We quietly proceeded deeper into the woods until we finally reached the spot by a large tree that Lars said would work. While I got to work immediately on digging, Lars went to the tree and began carving my aunt’s initials into the bark. I remembered Dad doing this for Mom.

  “Did you guys do that for all of them?” I inquired when I stopped digging to catch my breath. Lars looked at me, and I gestured toward the tree. “The initials. Did you and my dad do that for all of them?”

  “We did.”

  I nodded and made a mental note to always make sure that I did that as well. As I dug the shallow grave for my Aunt Marlowe, I focused on all the memories I had of her. From all of the holidays to consoling me after the death of my mom, and then my dad, and everything in between. Before we lowered her body bag into the ground, Lars poured the lime into the grave. We lowered her body into her final resting place, and then he poured the other bag on top of her.

  Without a word, Lars grabbed one of the shovels and started filling the grave with dirt. We worked in silence until it was done, and then I began gathering the tools, the empty plastic bags from the lime, and the burlap sack and set them all in the wheelbarrow. When I turned to face Lars, he had undone his pants and pulled out his cock. A smile forced its way onto my face as I watched him slowly stroke his length.

  “I believe we had been in the middle of this last night before we were interrupted.” He remembered.

  “We were,” I agreed with him before lowering to my knees.

  Eagerly, I opened my mouth and stared up into his blue eyes, begging him to feed me his cock. With each aggressive thrust, his cock seemed to get harder and harder in my mouth. My hands gripped his pants at his thighs for balance as his cock ravaged my mouth for his pleasure. Neither of our eyes strayed from one another until after I had swallowed his load.

  Lars lowered to the ground and rubbed his palm over my aching cock that was pressed against the fabric of my pants. I stood and undid my pants so he could reciprocate. Before his hot mouth surrounded my rigid cock, he told me to go hard if I needed to. I wasn’t gentle, but I didn’t fuck his mouth any harder than he fucked mine. I felt the burn build fast seconds before I shot my load into his mouth. He swallowed my hot seed quickly, and when he stood, he kissed my mouth passionately.

  After the tools were put away in the shed, we headed inside. We got cleaned up, ate, and then we sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. I eventually ended up stretched out on the couch on my back with my head resting on his thigh. Lars draped his arm across my chest diagonally and stroked my skin. I’d never experienced something like this, but it was oddly comforting.

  “After we carry out the deaths, Griffin, we’ll have one another to take aggressively. It helps tremendously,” he said.

  My mind took off with that statement. The fact that he knew that a rough fuck took the edge off after killing someone and burying them made me wonder if he and my father did this. While I wanted to ask, I didn’t. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear an answer that might make me feel less special.

  “When we go back to work, your new office will be on the third floor. Your father’s empty office has been waiting for you,” Lars told me.

  “Thank you,” I said, hoping he knew how much I appreciated this.

  As I laid under the comfort of his arm, I couldn’t have been more content than I was at that moment. I knew that I’d be perfectly happy taking it from Lars while reaping the status benefits and career advancements.

  “I love you, Griffin,” he murmured.

  Somehow, hearing those words made everything seem okay. I knew that I would never cheat on Lars… Or, at least, not get caught.

  About Cole Denton

  Cole Denton is an ocean lover who finds joy in almost all physical activities. He is especially passionate about baseball and surfing, indulging in them every chance he gets.

  His other passion is writing. It began at a young age and followed him through to his time at a university in SoCal where he majored in screenwriting.

  After moving to Sin City itself, Cole has put his knowledge and talent as a writer to work by pursuing a career as a dark fiction author. Cole is enjoying testing his kinky side, in pursuit of all things pleasurable.

  Other Books Cole Denton

  Forged: http://bit.ly/2wVbiwc

  The Queen: http://bit.ly/2WDcwZq

  Oxygen: https://bit.ly/2US5AHi