The Wife Protectors: Giles (Six Men of Alaska Book 2)

by Charlie Hart

  They may be burly mountain men, but they aren’t comfortable navigating women - or at least, navigating me. They walk on eggshells when I’m around, hoping I don’t break. Not realizing I’m already cracked wide open.

  I turn and head upstairs towards Giles’ room. He’s moving around a bit now, but I can tell he’s still hurting.

  When I knock, there’s no answer. I knock again, “Giles?”

  I open the door, but he’s not in bed.

  He shouldn’t be up on his own.

  “Giles?” I say louder.

  “Hey?” He says from the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his still damp hair and down his bare chest. Fresh white bandages, which he must have just applied himself, wrap around his arm and leg, but I see a hint of pink coming through the one on his calf.

  “You’re not supposed to bathe yet, the stitches-”

  “I’m fine,” he says with a half-smile, then limps towards the bed. “I’m going stir crazy just laying around here.”

  “How’s your leg?”

  He sits down on the mattress and motions for me to come to him. “Better when you’re around.”

  When I move forward, he grabs me around the waist, pulls me between his legs and smiles up at me. “What are the others doing?”

  “Ignoring me as usual.”

  He chuckles. “Good, then they won’t miss you for a few hours.

  I quirk an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

  He grins, eyeing his towel.

  I laugh, my shoulders falling as I reach for where it’s tucked in at the waist. “Too bad you already had a shower, I would have given you a sponge bath.”

  His eyebrows raise. “Damn, where was my nurse when I needed her?”

  I roll my eyes. “Downstairs, in the way.”

  “Hey,” he says, wrapping his good arm around me. “Don’t be mad at them, they just worry. And with good reason.”

  “But I’m here in the house with them now. Why won’t they talk about things with me?”

  Giles pushes his lips together. “Tia, unless you're ready to say why you really ran, I don't think there is much to talk about.”

  “Why aren’t you asking me then? Don’t you care?”

  Giles closes his eyes. “Dammit, woman, are you just looking for a fight?”

  I throw up my hands. “Maybe,” I exhale heavily. “I don’t know. It’s been a really long couple of days and I feel so guilty and selfish and... alone.”

  “Hey, there,” he shushes me. “Tia, you’re not alone, remember?”

  I swallow, nodding, and looking up into his eyes. “I remember.”

  “Look, now I’m the one feeling bad,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I went and got eaten up by wolves and left you all alone to worry about me.”

  My eyes glisten with tears. I don’t think he realizes how terrifying the last several days have been. I’ve sat in this room day and night, watching him with worry clawing at my throat.

  Guilt inching its way up my skin until it covered me completely.

  “I was worried,” I say, resting my head against his chest. “Really worried, Giles.”

  “Shh, it’s okay, don’t cry over me,” he says with a playful tone. “I’m a rough and wild mountain man, remember? I fight off wolves and protect my woman.”

  He kisses the side of my head and I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed by how gracious he is with me.

  “Why are you being so nice to me? I was the brat who left without saying goodbye.”

  He raises his eyebrows, and I feel his hard cock pushing against the towel.

  He shrugs. “I have my reasons.”

  I laugh again, startled by how Giles can make me feel so many things all at once. Safe and beautiful, wanted and carefree. When I look at him my burdens are lifted, and right now I want to thank him for that gift.

  I need to show him how thankful I am. Show him how much he means to me.

  Licking my lips, I push the towel away, as Giles eases himself against the pillows on the large bed.

  He groans in pleasure as I kneel before him, taking hold of his shaft and fondling his balls to warm him up.

  “You’re so warm,” I tell him, the heat of the shower still hanging in the air.

  I dip my mouth to meet his tip, licking it ever so gently. Teasing him. Wanting to draw this out.

  God knows he’s been through hell the last few days.

  It’s time I cheer him up.

  “I don’t think I’ve been a very good nurse,” I tell him playfully.

  “No?” His good arm is behind his head and he looks down at me with a smile spread across his face. Oh yes, this is exactly what he needs.

  I shake my head, standing up from the bed, and pushing down my leggings. I’m not wearing panties, and his eyebrows raise as he looks me over.

  “I didn’t do my job very well and I think you need to make sure I remember to take care of my patient better next time.”

  “And how do you suggest I do that?” He bites down on his lip as I pull off my camisole, my breasts on display. I lift a foot to the bed frame, exposing my pussy to him. Then I run a finger over myself as I watch him pump his shaft.

  Watching him touch himself gets me wet, and I want him to know how excited he makes me. My clit is swollen, and a thrill of pleasure runs over my skin.

  We’ve been in two near-death experiences together and the result is that I feel absolutely unrestrained in his company. I touch myself, watching his cock grow as I lift a finger to my lips, tasting myself. He groans as I lick my lips, reaching a hand out to me.

  He takes hold of me at my hip, but I lower his hand, wanting his palm firmly on my ass.

  “I was thinking you could spank me, so I don’t forget.”

  His mouth falls open. “You want me to...”

  Nodding slowly, I ease his head down, removing a pillow. Then I turn, straddling him from behind. “Will this angle work?” I ask, sitting on his face, knowing he will be more comfortable like this than any other position, as his wounds are still healing.

  He runs a hand over my bare ass, and lifts my cheeks, spreading them, and running his tongue up and down my already wet slit.

  I whimper, my hands taking hold of his rigid cock, needing something to steady me.

  “Oh, you are a very naughty nurse,” he tells me. “I know what you’re up to.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, my tongue swirling around his tip, the pre-cum so nice and creamy. I want his fullness in my mouth, I want to forget to think, to breathe. I want to be lost in him.

  “You said you wanted more of my beard against your pussy.” Without another word, he presses his mouth against me, sucking at my engorged clit, and licking my folds as if I’m the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. He moves his tongue up and down me, devouring my pussy and it leaves me panting with pleasure. I open my mouth, taking him fully, wanting his cock to hit the back of my throat, wanting to make him come hard against me, over and over again.

  No, not wanting. Needing.

  I need him to bring me to the edge, to pull me over. I need to free fall with him under me.

  His fingers explore me, my clit thrumming as he feasts on me. He slaps my ass, his fingers digging into my hips deliciously as he licks me into submission.

  “You taste so damn good,” he moans against me as I run my tongue over his thick cock.

  “That’s just because you’ve only been eating chicken noodle soup the last few days,” I joke before I wrap my lips around him and begin to suck once more. It’s impossible not to gag when I fill my mouth with his length. He is so long and thick, and I’m already imagining him inside my pussy, the memory of our last time together hitting me so deep that I begin to come against his mouth. The shock of the orgasm causes me to scream and Giles loves it, as he begins to suck me even harder. Not letting up.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I’m being loud, knowing my other husbands can hear but unab
le to hold back. He slaps my ass again, causing the biggest smile to spread across my face.

  I love how easy it is to be with Giles. It’s a bit of a surprise. He’s so commanding and capable but the other side of him, the side that laughs while we make love, the side that growls in my ear, making me smile and reminding me that we are still here, still alive - that is the side that makes me fall for Giles so much.

  He doesn’t press me or push me into a corner, instead, he presses his beard against me, tickling me and making my pussy drip with desire.

  “Oh, God, woman,” he groans, his cock engorged and rigid, ready to release. He presses two fingers inside of my pussy, hitting my g-spot as I grind against him.

  “I’m gonna come again, Giles,” I moan.

  “Good, that’s the point, woman.” Another playful slap on my ass. It burns in the best possible way.

  A thrill runs through me as I suck him; his cock is so hard that it’s about to burst. I’m already salivating at the thought of his come in my mouth. We’re both so close and the intensity builds in my belly as he gets me off.

  I suck harder, wanting him to come, wanting to feel the rush of satisfying him.

  When he’s ready to come, I pull him from my mouth, moving my hand up and down his shaft, as ribbons of come shoot from his tip, I let it cover my breasts; I want to be covered in him. I want his seed to coat me and I want it in my mouth. Opening my mouth, I suck him once more as he finishes, the creamy salt of his come sliding down my throat.

  He slaps my ass again and laughter escapes me. I am so deliciously fulfilled when my body is against his.

  “Oh, Giles,” I say, rolling off him and gently crawling back up his exquisite body, careful not to hurt him. “You certainly taught me a lesson.”

  I fall asleep in his arms, not wanting to face my other husbands. Especially after what they surely just heard.

  Maybe I’m hiding out in the arms of the man who makes me feel safe, who was by my side when I killed a man - but right now, I’m not going to feel bad about that.

  Right now, I’m just going to celebrate the fact Giles is alive.

  Chapter 10

  Giles

  For the first time in days, I decide to go downstairs and get set up in the study. I’m feeling anxious, sitting in my bed all day thinking about the worst-case scenario.

  “Oh, hey,” Salinger says, popping his head in the study when he sees me. “Need anything?”

  I raise my eyebrows. Sal looking out for someone other than number one? I’m sure there’s an angle, but I don’t know what it is. Maybe that’s cold and callous of me considering the situation, but I can’t help it. Right now, my guard is up.

  “Uh, yeah, actually, a coffee would be great.”

  Salinger nods, rapping his knuckles against the door frame, and then says he’ll be back.

  A minute later Huxley comes in, eating a piece of toast. “Hey man, you made it downstairs all on your own?”

  “Banks helped me down after dressing my wounds this morning.”

  “He leave for work already?”

  I shrug. “I don’t keep tabs on him.”

  “Right, well, is Tia up?”

  I frown. “I haven’t a clue.”

  “Oh,” Hux frowns. “I just figured.”

  “Figured what?”

  Salinger walks back in the study with two cups of coffee and hands me one.

  “Thanks,” I say, watching as the two men share a look. “What?”

  “You two are with one another non-stop,” Huxley says, sitting in a club chair opposite me. “So, I assumed you’d know if she was up, that’s all.”

  I run a hand over my beard. “Look, I’ve been in my room for days and don’t know why you’re annoyed, but clearly something's bothering you. So, man up and tell me.”

  Salinger scoffs. “Man up? Is that what this is? A game of who’s most macho? No thanks. I’m just a little fucking confused by you.”

  “Hey,” Hux gives Salinger a look of warning, then turning to me, he adds, “You’ve gotta know we're all pissed.”

  “All?”

  He shrugs. “Pretty much, except for your old pal Fallon.”

  “Just be straight with me.”

  “Look,” Salinger says. “You were holed up in a cabin with our wife, and then you show up here and neither of you are saying shit about why she ran.”

  I exhale. “It’s not my story to tell.”

  “But you know?”

  I clench my jaw. “Your anger is misplaced. I don’t know shit. My job isn’t to pry the truth out of her, it’s to keep her safe.”

  “Dammit, Giles,” Salinger groans, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see how it’s one and the same?”

  “Actually no. I was the one by her side when she shot a man. I saw how rattled she was. How shaken up she still is. If you got your head out of your ass and stopped whining about what she isn’t telling you and started listening to her, to see where she’s coming from, then maybe she’d tell you her story.”

  “That’s fucking rich, Giles,” Huxley snorts. “You’re a military meathead, yet you think you’re the one in the house who has the best handle on understanding a woman's emotions?”

  I shake my head, getting really fucking pissed. “You know nothing about me.”

  “Yeah?” Salinger smirks, getting out of his chair, finished with our little heart-to-heart. “Well, we know nothing about Tia, either.”

  Tia must sense the tension in the house because she sets to work on making a big dinner for everyone. It actually smells pretty good, garlic and onions in a thick tomato sauce. Emerson’s mother sent a recipe book with very detailed instructions and they have apparently given Tia a little more confidence her ability to cook a meal.

  Banks helps me down the stairs and gets me settled in a recliner in the dining room before everyone comes in for dinner.

  “Need anything?” Banks asks.

  “Got any stronger meds? It’s killing me to be laid up like this.”

  “I know,” Banks says. “But hopefully, you’ve turned a corner. Soon enough you’ll be back at it.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I say, saluting him. “Hey, uh... I wanted to ask.”

  He tilts his head at me. “Yeah?”

  Banks is a man of few words, and that makes me think I can trust him. He appears, at least, to be cut from the same cloth as Fallon and me. Not a showman like Salinger, a pleaser like Emerson, or an ass like Huxley.

  “Be straight with me,” I say. “How upset is everyone with Tia?”

  Banks pushes his lips forward. “I try to avoid drama.”

  I scoff. “This isn’t drama. This is our wife.”

  Just then, Tia walks into the dining room holding a big salad bowl. She sets it on the table, her face tight. She heard what we said.

  “What did I do now?” she asks.

  “You didn’t do anything,” I assure her.

  “Well, who asked the question?”

  “Who’s asking what?” Salinger asks, coming into the room to join us for dinner.

  “No one is asking the real question,” Banks says pointedly. “I think that’s the problem.”

  Tia sighs and heads back to the kitchen, crossing paths with Fallon and Emerson as she does.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Fallon asks, one brow raised.

  “I’ll go see if I can help,” Emerson says, before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Everyone else takes a seat. Pretty sure we all feel a little lost and a lot frustrated. Too many husbands and one wife who won’t talk. We aren’t going to get very far if we don’t start communicating soon.

  Emerson and Tia return a few minutes later, with a big bowl of pasta and a basket of garlic bread.

  “Hope everyone’s hungry,” Tia says, reaching for a plate and dishing up a heaping serving, way more than I’ve ever seen her eat. “I hope it’s good.”

  “It smells amazing,” Fallon says, giving her a smile as she walks past him and d
elivers the plate of food to the tray next to me.

  “Bon appetit,” she says, kissing me on the forehead. Even though I know there are issues between Tia and the other men, it feels good to know my wife and I are in a good place.

  Emerson picks up his fork and looks around the room. “Where’s Hux?”

  We all look around, realizing he isn’t with us.

  “That’s odd,” Tia says. “He called earlier today and told me he’d be home for dinner. Said he would pick up dessert.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Emerson says. “In the meantime, you can’t go wrong with my mom’s famous spaghetti and meatballs.” He grins, picking up his fork.

  “You were a lucky bastard, you know that don’t you?” Banks says after he takes a bite of the pasta. “Most of us weren’t so lucky to have a mom our whole lives, cooking for us. It’s pretty special that you did.”

  The whole table turns to Banks with wide eyes and open jaws.

  “I didn’t know you were so sentimental,” Emerson says with a grin.

  Banks reaches for the salad. “It’s a topic I’m passionate about.”

  “Home-cooked food?” Salinger jokes.

  Banks shakes his head. “No, families.” At this, he looks straight at Tia. “What about you, Tia? What was your family like?”

  The tension in the room is through the roof and poor Tia looks uncomfortable as fuck. Before she’s pushed to answer, the front door swings open and Huxley hustles in, looking more anxious than I’ve ever seen him.

  “What’s wrong?” Fallon asks, standing from the table.

  Huxley locks the door, turning to us at the table, his face grim.

  “The shit is gonna hit the fan.”

  Chapter 11

  Tia

  The men get quiet with Huxley’s declaration and so do I.