The Monkey Jungle (The Bennt, Montana Series)

by Taylor Ryan

  “I knew it!” The strangled quietly horrified voice caused Garth to freeze. Footsteps pounded up the stairs a moment later. Henry’s bedroom door slammed loudly, reverberating throughout the house.

  It was a tub of cold water for Garth.

  Mary Kathryn was lost, reveling—tugging and yanking the blanket, completely oblivious to Henry’s presence.

  The younger man had probably wanted a glass of water or something mundane and received the shock of his life. That was the least obnoxious excuse Garth could come up with for Henry’s untimely interruption. “We’ve got a problem,” Garth said urgently against Mary Kathryn’s ear, wanting to toss Henry out the door.

  “Don’t all men carry condoms?” Mary Kathryn’s breath was heated, her voice wispy, hungry, as she slid her hands down his chest. She tried to tug his t-shirt over his head, rising to press herself against him. “Frankly, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t have two or three stashed somewhere. Check your wallet. I’m sure the hell not sending you up to ask Henry for one.”

  Garth groaned and dropped his head into the soft flesh at the crook of her shoulder, kissed the smooth flesh. “He might bring us one,” Garth finally said, his raging passion easing off, his heavily pounding heart slowing. “But I doubt it.”

  Mary Kathryn tried to tug his head down. He complied, kissing her again, his tongue dueling slowly with hers, sliding reluctantly from her mouth a moment later to kiss her slightly parted lips.

  “What’s the matter?” She came back slowly, her eyes dazzling in the dim light. “Are my nipple clamps crooked?”

  “No,” he rasped, amused, aggravated; aching to be inside her. “But Henry’s eyes were crossed.”

  “Henry—?!” she gaped, the same cold shock instantly dousing her passion. “He—saw?”

  Garth nodded as her face flamed with angry embarrassed chagrin. Before he could comfort her she was reacting.

  Mary Kathryn pushed frantically at his shoulders. Garth rolled over onto his back. She scrambled to her feet, whirling in confusion as she looked for her thin cotton night shirt. “What are we going to do?”

  “Use a room with a door that locks.” Garth came to his own feet, understanding her discomfiture. Being busted making out as intensely as they had been on the living room floor by an adult child would send any decent mother scurrying for a hole. “Invite me to your room, Mary Kathryn.”

  “You’re no help!” Although she glowered, her gaze devoured him, lingering for a panicked moment. “Garth, help me find my clothes—I need to talk to him.”

  “Mary Kathryn,” Garth grabbed her by her forearms as she was about to whirl in another circle searching for her night shirt. He pulled her against him, comforting her with a kiss to her brow and before holding her away to see her properly. “Calm yourself. He’s twenty-five...although he acts three. We’re all adults, sweetheart. Well, Henry is an adult—sort of. He’ll get over the horror after he gouges his eyes out.”

  Humiliated, Mary Kathryn groaned and slumped, her hair hiding her face. “I’m so embarrassed. I was tearing at your clothes.” Her hot forehead fell against his chest.

  “He didn’t really see much,” Garth lied, rubbing his hands up and down her arms in attempt to bring her some comfort. “But he saw. And we do nothing. Traditional family stuff. Avoid, don’t mention. Don’t look him in the eye ever again and eventually, after extensive hypnotherapy, everybody pretends to forget.”

  Mary Kathryn lightly punched his belly. He grunted, smiling down at her. “Did you ever have a life? He thinks of you as a damned saint, or something.”

  “A saint?” she scoffed. “We aren’t even Catholic. And here I thought it was me being paranoid... Well, hell—I don’t want to be saintly!”

  “Exactly.” He grinned and kissed her hard.

  She sighed against his mouth, unresisting when he slid his hand down one arm and pulled her hand between them, tugging it lower. Garth savored the sweet cavern of her mouth as she caressed his erection through his black boxer briefs. They stilled when they heard voices coming from upstairs, then footsteps in the corridor.

  “I think Henry is going to come down here and sleep on the floor.” Garth broke their exchange, his arms tightening around her. He stared into slumberous brilliant eyes and growled his frustration, “Or he’s sending Alison.”

  Mary Kathryn jerked out of his arms and whirled when she heard loud thumps on the stairs. “Unreal—he wouldn’t—I’m in a nightmare!” she wailed.

  “Sometimes I hate being right,” Garth whispered as he hastily wrapped his blanket around her shoulders. Henry bounded down the remaining stairs and into the living room with bedding in his arms. Garth quickly moved behind Mary Kathryn to hide his erection, taking the opportunity to caress her bottom through the blanket. He squeezed it as Henry crossed the living room. The younger man’s expression was mutinous, his color hectic as he avoided looking in their direction.

  “Goodnight, Mom. Sir!” Henry tossed his blanket and pillow on the carpet and lay down. He rolled himself up in the blankets, his thin shoulders hunching as he faced the television. Garth trembled against Mary Kathryn’s back, barely containing his mirth—what the devil had gotten into the kid?

  “What are you doing, Henry?” Garth finally managed to ask, his tone so soft and casual Mary Kathryn knew he was in military mode. Henry had finally pushed his patience to far.

  “It’s for your own protection, sir.”

  Garth and Mary Kathryn watched wide-eyed as Henry drew his knees to his chest and huddled into a protective ball as if he thought they might launch projectiles in his direction.

  Mary Kathryn regretted for the briefest of moments returning that mini-baseball bat Henry had brought into the house the night Garth had arrived. She could use it now, give Henry something else to think about besides his mother’s sex life—or lack of it! Her fists clenched. She’d never felt truly violent toward her child until this moment. It was an odd feeling. Guilt warred with the horror of knowing hitting him would make her feel so much better. It wasn’t like Henry was a baby anymore, she reasoned in her parental madness, he was twenty-five! A parent should be allowed to beat the crap out of their twenty-five year old child if the adult child needed a wake up call. They were going to need family counseling, it was a given. She wanted to jump on her adult son and pound some sense into his head. Shake him until that expensive dental work she’s sweated and slaved for rattled or he choked on it. Committing Hari-kari would be cathartic. She made as if to step forward.

  Garth seemed to sense she was about to commit an unforgivable crime.

  “Sweetie,” his rich voice was soothing, his hands distracting. “I’ll walk you upstairs,” Garth eyed the younger man’s head on the pillow as if he wanted to strangle Henry himself. He whispered against her ear, “If I can walk, love,—you got me hurting.”

  “The lock on my mother’s door is broken,” Henry called out stiffly, still facing away from them.

  “He broke the lock on my door?!” Mary Kathryn whispered to Garth, outraged.

  “Goodnight, Mother,” Henry said loudly.

  “I’ll walk her up, Henry.” Garth shook his head at the pointed dismissal. He needed his blanket and Mary Kathryn’s nightshirt was no where to be seen. Mary Kathryn made as if to step toward her son again. Garth held her firm.

  “I’ll see you in a minute—sir.” Henry wiggled around, punched his pillow and flopped his head back down, in for the long haul.

  “Since you put it that way, Henry, I guess you will—” Garth gently pushed Mary Kathryn toward the stairs, aware of her indignation. The kid was going to push her too far. “Don’t say a word,” he whispered against her ear as he followed her to the stairs, so close he was herding her. More to save Henry from her wrath. “It’ll sort itself out—somehow—soon, I hope.”

  “What the blazes is wrong with him?!” Mary Kathryn exploded as they went up the stairs, still whispering. “Granted, this is—was extremely awkward, horridly tasteless of me to
put any of us in this position, but, it’s like he thinks he’s protecting you from me?! I feel—betrayed! Hurt—oh my god!” She stopped short, causing Garth to bump into her.

  Looking over Mary Kathryn’s shoulder as they crossed the threshold, Garth spied Alison aimlessly lingering, obviously waiting for them.

  “I feel betrayed too!” Garth stared disbelieving at his daughter, who looked at the floor but didn’t budge from her position near the bathroom doorway. Alison leaned against the frame, literally lacing her fingers she began twiddling her thumbs, looking about in wide circles around them. She peered at the ceiling, the walls, the floor, at Mary Kathryn’s bedroom door, all the while her thumbs twiddled furiously.

  She might as well have been whistling and chewing on a piece of straw. Garth’s shoulders shook. He stifled his humor. The situation was so odd he couldn’t help but but be amused. What the hell was Alison doing? Waiting for him to leave the upper story and go back downstairs? This was getting ridiculous. Mary Kathryn was housing a couple of lunatics! He disregarded the fact one of them was his.

  He caressed Mary Kathryn’s bottom discreetly then gave her a light prod to get her moving forward, he followed her toward her room, seeing the mummy bag and pillow Henry had abandoned in front of her door. He couldn’t help it and back at Alison who twiddled faster, studying the ceiling as if she something it fascinating. Mary Kathryn viciously kicked Henry’s mummy bag until it was out of her way.

  “If I hadn’t seen it for myself,” he said loud enough for Alison to hear. “I wouldn’t believe it—I feel—hazed. I think someone needs a spanking, Mary Kathryn, and for once,” he squeezed her waist through the blanket, “it’s not you.”

  Mary Kathryn closed her door behind him, her hair flying as she whirled, the blanket falling to leave her standing in red panties. Garth looked with renewed interest, her hair streamed down her almost naked body, a curtain of shimmering black life as she moved, her breasts high and firm, the darkness of her hair contrasting sharply with creamy white skin and rose nipples that were occasionally revealed as she moved.

  “I feel like screaming!” She began pacing as Garth leaned against the door frame, completely absorbed in watching her. “Don’t get me wrong, Garth, I really love my son—and your daughter is charming—I certainly don’t resent her being here, she helps. Or tries too. Not like his slothy hypocritical morality highness down there who took over my sewing room for her because he thinks I’m such a sainted idiot that I don’t know Alison is sneaking into his bedroom every night! Me, a saint?” she raged. “Doesn’t he know I’m a salted tart mouthed bubble blower! He was planning on going to Arizona—he’s gone, off and on for seven good years, then suddenly he shows up here with Alison! And they move in...” Her eyes narrowed as she looked to Garth for an answer. “Why?”

  “Kids come home.” Garth was listening, but riveted to her body as she paced with jerky agitation. Even her feet were pretty, delicate and fine boned. But her hair, wild and curly down to the middle of her bottom—gorgeously contrasting with her skin and flashing fine crystalline eyes. “Alison has bounced from her mother to wherever I am for four years now—between sporadically intense class loads and Spring Breaks. Or at least she did until she met Henry.”

  “Yes, of course,” she waved impatiently, completely unaware he was thinking she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “They saw The Incredible Journey and took it to heart.”

  Mary Kathryn’s quip made Garth smile. “You are equating our children to lost animals?”

  “All we can hope for is that they are happy,” she said sharply. “Apparently mine is happiest at home.” With his tail taking up her sewing room, but she didn’t dare say that out loud out of respect for Alison being Garth’s daughter. Her jaw clamped tight.

  “Don’t feel guilty.” Garth moved swiftly, pulling her against him and giving her a quick hug, more than disappointed they weren’t still on the floor downstairs, or in her bed. “I read an article once that claimed women were happier after their children left home.”

  She searched his gaze, feeling calmer. “Though that is very intuitive of you, my guilt, what’s your point, because you’d better have one or I’m going to freak.”

  “I might have been absent more than I should have, but I am still a parent. When I was stationed in Florida, Alison came out frequently. Missed school, played her mother and I. My point is, don’t feel guilty you resent him being home again. Studies have shown you aren’t alone. Alison’s mother told me she was relieved Alison was gone when Alison went to college. Like you, she missed her in the beginning, but once she got used to it she was happier. She showed me articles about the studies so I wouldn’t feel guilty too.”

  “Thank you for that, I didn’t know I was normal resenting him moving home. But, now I have them here and they don’t seem to be going anywhere...” Mary Kathryn’s miserable moan made him grin.

  “And for that,” Garth said, “Alison’s mother is very sorry. She even told me so.” His smile was chagrined at the situation they found themselves in. If it hadn’t been for Alison moving in with Mary Kathryn, he wouldn’t have met her; because if Alison came to her senses like he prayed she would, she wouldn’t marry that immature dumbass on Mary Kathryn’s floor. But he could never say that out loud.

  “Her mother?!” Mary Kathryn vented. “What about you?” Her eyes sparkled with repressed frustration.

  “Oh, I’ve sympathy.” Garth grabbed her hand mid-air as it sliced between them. He tugged it to the source of his current pain. “I’m so sorry for myself right now I need to jump in a freezing river. Lately I wonder who the child in our relationships with them.”

  Mary Kathryn grimaced with equal exasperation, tugging her hand out of his and batting his fingers away when he tried to capture them again. He grinned when she knocked his hand from her breast. He’d known she would be like this—real. She wouldn’t hesitate to smack him if she felt like it.

  “Henry’s been a complete lunatic since they showed up. His behavior since you’ve been here is just the icing on the—Oh, Lord help me!” she stared aghast at his neck. “You’ve got a love mark—I gave you a—a hickey? And we didn’t even—at my age—a love bite!” She slumped against him.

  He tipped her chin, brushing her hair away from her shoulders then kissed a spot under her hair line behind her ear. “Dang—” he was impressed. “I gave you one too.” Garth saw her blush and kissed her lips harder. “Nobody will see yours. Let me tell you what I think about them. I didn’t do it on purpose, neither did you. Imagine us, so carried away. I find it stimulating, exciting I was so blown away I just did what comes naturally, without thinking. Just looking at you gives me an erection—” he whispered against her mouth, “I haven’t lost control in years. You’re addictive. I want to be inside you—kissing you at the same time—” Their lips were meeting again, heady rising excitement thrumming between them. That electrifying heat that had consumed them downstairs was taking them again—

  “Dad?” Alison’s hesitant voice came through the door. “Did you need a shower? Is that why you’re upstairs?”

  Astounded, Garth lifted his head as Mary Kathryn gnashed her teeth and said, “What the hell is going on around here? I feel like a cat trapped in a lab with a tripped-out mouse zipping around teasing me. I want to climb the walls and get out, but stay and chase the tail! Garth,” she wailed. “What is happening—it’s an invasion of the Hypocritical Labotomites!” She waved helplessly toward the door. “They’re sneaking around...why can’t we?!”

  He couldn’t help himself and. He bent his head, using his tongue to moved heavy strands of hair from her nipple then suckled it gently. A sexually frustrated Mary Kathryn was fascinating. She had made up her mind to have an affair with him and it was going to happen—come hell, high water—or Henry. She gasped, moaning, then their attention went to the door when a loud but hesitant knock sounded again. “Murder is illegal, Mary Kathryn!” he reminded her when her eyes became slits.


  “This is Big Sky County,” Mary Kathryn ground out at such an obvious machination to get him out of her room. “Which means there’s a lot of dirt too!”

  “I’ll see you in the morning—” He laughed at her quip, but he understood. Maybe even more than she did. He was physically hurting.

  “Why are they doing this?” She held out her hand to stop him before letting it fall to her side. “Just who do they think they are?”

  “Our little angels?” Not willing to give up yet, Garth pulled her scantily clad body against his, sliding his hands down to lift her up against his erection until she could wrap her legs around his hips. His hands kneaded her bottom, working her against him. Another thud in the hall outside her door brought them to earth.

  She struggled until he freed her, sliding down his body. “I’d ask you to stay,” she said huskily, “but knowing those two would be listening with a glass against the door...”

  He dragged her back into his arms even as she protested, “Don’t, I can’t take anymore.”

  “Take a shower with me in the morning,” he coaxed against her mouth. “A bathroom, the last place anybody would come into with the water running—they wouldn’t dare.”

  Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitched. His words caused her eyes brighten; as if he’d given her hope.

  He began pressing light kisses on her mouth. “Me—you... in the shower together—soap and water—knowing soon we will be together... At least think about it.” He kissed her hard then grabbed up the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around his shoulders. Modesty had it’s time and place. This was certainly one of them—with Alison’s brain playing hopscotch without chalk just outside the room.

  He was gone a moment later. Mary Kathryn could hear the rumble of his deep voice as he said something to Alison and then the silence as his footsteps faded on the stairs.

  Seething, Mary Kathryn dropped onto her bed. She was staring at the ceiling plotting against Henry when her cell phone rang. Bemused, she rolled over, glancing at her nightstand clock. It was one-ten a.m. Who would be calling this time of night? It could only mean trouble. Her stomach roiling, she reached for the phone.