by Jenika Snow
Kash looked at Jessa, his expression unreadable. “How long has this been going on?” he asked, his voice void of emotion.
After he hit me, Jessa had screamed for him to stop. He'd done so instantly and took a step back, obviously trying to rein in his anger. I couldn't blame him. If the roles had been reversed, I would've reacted the same way.
“It hasn't been going on.” Jessa looked over at me. “But I've loved him for a while now, and I don't want to hold my feelings back any longer.”
I curled my fingers even harder into my palms, my blunt nails digging into my flesh. I loved her too. I looked at Kash, staring at the man I had known for longer than I cared to admit, wanting him to see how genuine this was. I was a bastard in a lot of ways and had never really cared about anything.
But when it came to Jessa, she was it for me.
And I was tired of pretending otherwise.
“I love her, Kash. Nothing was ever done behind your back until this one time.” I saw his jaw clenching and knew that little bit of information had pissed him off. I couldn't blame him, but I was also going to be honest.
He looked at his daughter then, his gaze softening. “You know this isn’t something that I can just accept?”
She didn’t answer Kash right away. Jessa exhaled and closed her eyes for a moment. “I hope you do, though. I love him, and I know he cares for me. I’m not a fool, Dad. I don’t just jump headfirst into situations. You know that.”
Kash rubbed a hand over his face and looked between the two of us. “Fucking hell,” he said without any heat in his voice. “You’re so much fucking older than her, Rye.”
“I’ll protect her,” I said with determination in my voice. “I’ll make sure she never wants for fucking anything.” I could see the tenseness in Kash slowly starting to dissipate. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, I know you’ll do all of that.”
I felt like this heaviness was lifting from me. I might be a badass to anyone who fucked with me, but Kash was a business partner, a friend, and seeing him pissed at me—and rightly so—felt like shit.
“You’re okay with this … with us?” Jessa asked softly.
Kash didn’t respond right away, but finally he exhaled. “Your happiness and well-being are all that I want.” He looked at me then. “And if being happy with Rye is what you want, then so be it. I know he’ll protect you with his life.”
And I would. I will.
Jessa
Several days later
I sat at one of the empty tables at my father and Rye’s bar, the glass of Coke in front of me warm and the ice already melted. I thought back to all the things that had happened up to this point. I thought about how my father had accepted what I wanted, and how he’d wanted to speak with Rye alone. I wondered what was being said, wondered if there would be threats to not hurt me, like I imagined fathers said to their daughters’ boyfriends.
I didn’t ask Rye about any of it, because I just wanted to enjoy the fact I was with him, my father wouldn’t have an issue, and I could finally be happy with the man I wanted. And the last couple of days hadn’t changed anything between my father and me. He hadn’t mentioned my relationship with Rye, maybe because he was still trying to come to grips with it, but he was also not trying to talk me out of it either.
I exhaled and ran my finger along the glass.
“Hey.” The sloppy, slurred voice behind me had me rolling my eyes.
The bar was pretty much dead, aside from a few stragglers hanging around. I didn’t bother saying anything, because interacting would only have him thinking I was interested, especially since he was drunk.
I felt his hand on my shoulder and was about to turn around and say some choice words, but before I could, his hand was gone and I was looking over my shoulder in shock. The man was on the floor, Rye having clearly knocked him backward.
“Touch what’s mine again and I’ll be sure to snap off those fucking hands of yours. You got me?” His voice was deep, serious … deadly.
The guy nodded and quickly got off the ground to wisely head in the other direction. I looked up at Rye from where I sat and saw he was already looking at me.
“Come here, Jessa.”
I was out of my seat and in his embrace seconds later. I felt everyone staring at us, but I didn’t care. If they didn’t already know I was Rye’s, they would find out soon enough.
“Was that really necessary?” I teased, knowing that Rye did whatever the hell he wanted.
He grunted and stroked the back of my head. “When it concerns you, everything is fucking necessary.”
I smiled against his chest and closed my eyes. Yeah, this life was certainly not what I’d ever thought I’d have, but I’d certainly envisioned it plenty of times.
Epilogue One
Jessa
One year later
What I felt for Rye was wild and free, intense and crazy.
I heard the sound of a vehicle pulling in, and set my book aside to rise and go to the window. Over the last year I’d moved out of my father’s house, gotten my own little place, and continued to see Rye. I won’t say my father was exactly accepting right from the beginning, giving us his blessing as soon as we told him, but he knew I was happy. He knew I didn’t make rash decisions. He also knew Rye, the type of man he was, and he trusted him.
Things had definitely changed over the last year in my relationship with Rye. We were closer than I ever thought possible, and that was saying something, seeing as our relationship was far from conventional. He still ran guns illegally, was still that dangerous “criminal” that everyone feared. But he was honest and caring, genuine, and showed me love. He gave me affection, protected me, and made sure I was happy.
He didn’t hurt people, didn’t do things that purposefully put others in harm’s way, and at the end of the day we were just two people in a relationship. He might have been called an animal on the best of days, this feral creature that didn’t conform to society or follow rules. But he was my animal.
I grew wet and needy, my body wanting the things only Rye could give me. I watched as he left his SUV, the sun starting to set, the dusk causing him to be partially covered by light and darkness.
He came toward the house, and I stepped away from the window. My heart was thundering, my palms sweating. I wanted him, needed him, and all I’d seen was him getting out of the vehicle.
I was starting college again, another semester that would help me get my degree in business management. And although I was thick into my schoolwork, having Rye come over every night and making time to see me every day made all the stress worthwhile.
The moment I saw him standing there staring at me, the heat in his expression as he watched me told me he wanted me. This wasn’t just what our relationship was about. He didn’t just fuck me, make me come, scream out for more, and then take care of me afterward. He lavished me in affection, helped me with my studies, cooked for me, held me … loved me.
I lowered my gaze and saw how hard he was for me. He made this deep sound in his throat, and God, did that turn me on. Every erogenous zone in me heightened and screamed out to give in.
He came closer then, his eyes focused on me. I backed away, and when the wall stopped me, he leaned his face in close to me. I liked playing hard to get. I knew he liked it too.
“You see what you do to me?” He pressed his erection into my belly, and I moaned at the feeling. I shifted, trying to get closer.
He dragged his lips along my cheek. Not able to hold my eyes open, I let my head fall back against the door. Rye ground his dick into me again, over and over, until I found myself reaching up and holding on to his biceps for support. He was rock-hard and tense beneath my palms.
“Take me here, right now.”
“Fuck.” He groaned and pressed his entire length against me, making me see and feel that he was ready for me.
He moved his tongue along the shell of my ear, and I moaned. He
pulled away only enough that he had his mouth close to mine once more.
Then his mouth was on mine, and he was running his tongue along my bottom lip. I heard his nails dig into the door. I opened my mouth, took his tongue between my lips, and sucked on it.
“I don’t want slow,” I moaned, not caring how needy I sounded.
“Good, because I wasn’t going to give it to you that way, baby.”
“I love you, Rye.”
He growled low. “I love you.”
The passion was real between us, and would never die. God, this was exactly what living was really like.
Epilogue Two
Jessa
Two years later
I’d graduated college just this past summer, gotten my business management degree, was ready to start my life with Rye and my new career. And then I’d gotten the biggest shock of my life.
My heart was this steady drum inside of me. I bounced my leg, my nerves strung tight, my palms sweaty. Everything in me felt like it would combust. I stared at the stick on the coffee table, those positive two lines that told me I was pregnant with Rye’s child.
I looked down at my engagement ring. Rye had given it to me just last year, and we’d decided to wait until I was done with school and found a job, but it seemed like plans were changing for both of us.
I heard a car door shut. My heart jumped to my throat. I couldn’t move, couldn’t hide my nervousness. We lived together now, had been for the last year. My father had grumbled about it for a minute, but he got over that really quick. He was just protective, and I understood that.
I heard the front door open and ran my hands over my thighs.
“I’m home, baby,” Rye said, his voice deep. He rounded the corner, stopping when he saw me, now standing a few feet from the coffee table.
“Hi.” My voice was shaky. I heard it deep in my belly, felt it all over. I was about to tell him, about to change things in our life that might upset the balance. I was nervous and afraid, worried what Rye would say.
I knew without a doubt that Rye loved me, but bringing a baby into the picture, one that wasn’t exactly planned … yeah, that might shock even the most levelheaded person.
“Everything okay?” He was in front of me only seconds later.
I took a steadying breath, because right now that was all I could do, all I could even think about. “I’m…” God, how do I say this? Just say it. “I’m pregnant.”
“What?” he asked. His voice was thick, but his face was emotionless.
His entire body was tense, his muscles bulging, his tattoos on clear display.
I reached beside me, picked up the pregnancy test I’d taken, and showed it to him. My throat tightened as he took it from my hands and looked down at it.
“A baby?” He lifted his head and stared at me, then lowered his gaze to my belly.
I nodded. “Yeah, pretty crazy, huh?”
And then he grinned, a smile that had me relaxing and feeling like the world wouldn’t swallow me whole. He had me in his arms a second later, just holding me, whispering how happy he was, how everything would be okay. For such a strong, big man, he was a gentle giant toward me.
He placed his hand on my belly, a heavy, comforting reassurance that he was here with me. “You’re carrying my baby.”
I nodded, a smile lighting up my face, no doubt. “You’re really happy about this?” I wanted him to be, I realized.
“More than happy. I’m fucking ecstatic.”
I kissed him then.
He pulled me closer again and stroked my hair, slowly, caressing, as if I were fragile. “It’s you and me, baby, forever.” He placed a hand on my belly.
And that’s exactly how I always wanted it to be, how I knew it would always be.
The End
Newsletter
Want to know when Jenika has book related news, and giveaways, and free books?
You can get all of that and more by following the link below!
Sign Up Here!
Want your very own Real Man? Check out the series HERE!
Otto
The sun beat down on me, beads of sweat and dirt covering me from the manual labor I'd been doing all day. I brought the ax down on the log, splintering it in two.
The ax was one of the only tools that I had to work with. With everything from food and water to clothing and weapons being rationed and accounted for, I'd had to make do with things I constructed myself, or things my parents had hoarded from back in the day. I’d also made tools and weapons, and although they were almost barbaric in nature, they did the job. That's all I could ask for in this day and age.
I picked up half of the log and set it on the chopping block. I brought the ax down on the piece, splintering that one in two as well. I did this over and over again, cutting firewood before finally picking up the pieces and stacking them on the side of the house.
I'd been born in this cabin, raised in it and away from the corrupt, fucked-up outside world. I'd only been down the mountain a few times to get supplies with my father, but that had been enough.
The fall of the economy had happened when my mother and father were children. Once adolescents, and my mother needing to escape the female roundup for the auctions, she met my father and they escaped together.
They needed to get away from the strict rules that the government enforced, especially given the fact that women were a commodity now, pawns to be sold off, given to the highest bidder … the wealthy.
Sex slaves, vessels for reproduction, maids … these were the things women in this world were made to do.
It made me sick to think about the depraved and vile acts that were perpetrated on them. But that was our world now, crazy and mad, dictating what others could do, how they felt.
And it only got worse as the years went by. It would only get worse as time moved on.
I continued the task at hand, chopping the wood, stacking it up. This was my life, lonely and monotonous, my days filled with doing tasks that ensured I survived, that once I found my woman she would be comfortable and happy here.
And yes, that was my end goal ... to find my woman.
I didn't know who she would be, didn't know where she was, but I knew one thing for certain: I needed a woman, a wife, the future mother of my children in my life. I needed that as much as I needed to breathe, as much as I needed to be strong and protect her.
And I would, until the day I took my last breath. She’d come to realize that she was my life.
I thought about the time I spent in the cabin with my family, how we’d tried to survive.
There had been other people who came to us over the years, looking for shelter, a warm fire to lie in front of, or even some broth to drink. We never turned them away. But in the end that had been my parents’ downfall.
It had been five years since I lost my parents to a drifter who took their generosity as something more. My father had been killed trying to protect my mother from the bastard and in turn I'd killed the motherfucker with my bare hands.
But at thirty years old I was tired of being alone. I was ready to finally venture out and find a female of my own. I'd never known the intimate touch of a woman. But I had no doubts I could make her feel good, could make her see that she was meant to be with me.
And even though I wanted that because I lived off the grid, and in the eyes of the government had no financial standing or privilege to own a woman, I had to find one for myself.
I grabbed a rag and wiped the sweat from my face, down my neck, and along my chest. I'd gotten rid of my tattered, once-white T-shirt hours ago when I’d started working.
This was my home, would be my home until the day I died.
Fuck anyone who thought that they could keep me from what I desired, from what they thought I wasn't worthy of having. A woman wasn't a piece of property, wasn't something to be used and abused.
Once I found my wife she'd be my equal. She'd make this cabin a home, a true home with children and love
and laughter.
And anyone who thought they could take that from me would know the kind of wrath I could inflict upon them. I might be a man by all accounts, but being away from society and civilization made me more barbaric, more animalistic then what would be considered normal.
And I fucking embraced it.
It was what had kept me alive, what kept me strong. I might not have been able to save my parents, but things had changed. I’d changed. I wouldn’t let anyone try to stop me from acquiring what I wanted.
It was that fierce determination that would provide safety and protection for my woman and children.
It would be what kept us alive.
Sansa
I was alone, had been alone for the last couple of months. Ever since my parents died I only had myself.
The house I lived in was beat down, aged and weathered. My parents had lived here for longer than I’d been alive. My mother had been spared from the female auctions because of her age and health ailments. It had been those things that had saved her life in the end.
It had been her medical history of infertility that had allowed her refuge from the barbaric practice of female auctioning, but she didn’t want to risk being sold for servitude. Instead she’d escaped, hidden, and lived her life like she didn’t even exist.
But then a miracle had happened and she conceived me. It was the biggest secret she ever kept. I was the biggest secret she ever kept. And because of that, and the threat of the government taking me and selling me off to the highest bidder, she and my father had essentially kept me in this one-room, windowless haven for my entire life.
Staying inside was the only way I could have ever survived in this fucked-up world. But I found myself making my way outside when the moon was high and the night was still. It had been those nights that I’d stared up at the bright moon and twinkling stars, wishing we lived in a different world.