He’d looked at me so earnestly. His baby blue eyes so filled with hope that I’d taken a deep breath and said, “Okay, let’s give it a year and see how it goes.”
After all, I loved him. Loved him in a tender, desperate way I thought would last forever. So I would pick up extra shifts at the med center. I would study for PT school on my breaks. Sure, I could do it. Just for a year.
The moment I ‘agreed’, he swooped me up and spun me around, kissing me until I was silly. Then he’d made deliberate and intense love to me for hours.
That’s his M.O. Do whatever he wants and then apologize and be sweet for a few days until he sees the moment I’ve forgiven him. Then the cycle continues. And continues. Until lately.
Lately, I’ve been less forgiving and he’s been less sweet. He blames it on my hormones, which seriously pisses me off. He blamed it on ‘my time of the month’ before that. Hormones. Men’s go-to excuse for everything they don’t want to understand about a woman.
I want to kick myself into next Sunday for being so stupid. I’d missed one pill. One! Actually, I didn’t technically miss it. I never miss it. I’d had a stomach flu that day and had thrown up the contents of my stomach about fifteen minutes later. I’m a nurse and it should have occurred to me that I could get pregnant. It didn’t. By then, we weren’t even having sex that much. The chances were one in a bazillion.
Then I rub my belly. “I don’t regret you, little guy,” I whisper to the baby. “You’re already the best thing I’ve ever done.”
“What’s up your ass?”
I glance up and Rob walks into the kitchen, a towel tied around his waist.
“About four pounds of shit typically. Two hundred pounds of shit lately.” Then I kick myself for saying whatever comes to my mind.
“Aw, come on, sweetheart. Don’t be that way.” He’s beside me now, and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Rough day?”
I look up at him. His height is one of the things that attracted me to him. As a six-foot Amazon, I’d always had trouble finding guys taller than me. Rob’s six-four and I used to love looking up at him. Now, it only hurts my neck.
“Actually, it was a wonderful day until I came in the house. Why is it so hard to use the hamper?” I’m riled again and shrug away from his arm. “I wash the clothes. I dry the clothes. I fold or hang the clothes. You have one job. One! Put your god-awful smelling clothes in the hamper.”
He grins at me, his blue eyes shining, and picks up my juice, taking a long drink from my glass. “Sorry, sweetheart. I was just so hot and tired, all I could think about was the shower. I was going to pick them up later.” He turns toward me, easing his hands around my waist. “I was actually hoping you would join me.”
I pull away, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to fight. I’m hot and tired too. So I let it go. I don’t remind him of how I’d picked up his clothes yesterday and two days before that. I don’t remind him that he forgot to take out the trash. I don’t remind him of the pizza stains on the new sofa. I just let it go. Again.
Picking up the rest of the mail Natalie had pulled from the box, I busy myself by flipping through it while Rob heads to the fridge for a beer. I begin to sort it into two piles, mine and his.
Electric bill—mine.
Water bill—mine.
Hunting and fishing magazine—Rob’s.
Statement for Rob’s truck payment—mine.
Duck’s Unlimited mailer—Rob’s.
Student loan bill—mine.
I come to an envelope with a credit card company logo embossed at the top and start to toss it in the trash. Then I stop. It feels different that a solicitation. I turn it over. Bend it, feeling for the ‘you’re approved for this fake card’ card. Rob’s name is on it, but I open it anyway.
And nearly sway on my feet.
It’s a bill.
Holy Jesus help me, it’s a big bill.
It’s an overdue bill for seventeen thousand, four hundred and twenty-nine dollars and thirty-eight cents.
I stare at it. Blink. Stare at it some more. Then turn to Rob who’s now rummaging through the pantry.
“What the hell is this?” My voice is low, deliberate.
He turns and his eyes widen. He drops the bag of chips in his hand and comes at me. He snatches the bill from my grasp. “Give me that!”
“Rob, when did you get a credit card? You don’t have a job. You don’t make any money. How were you going to pay for all that?”
He glares at me. “Don’t you know it’s a federal offense to tamper with someone’s mail?”
I snatch at the envelope. “I’m pretty sure it’s also a federal offense to kill somebody, but at this moment I don’t give a good damn.”
He’s ripping the bill into tiny little pieces, the confetti of it floating to the floor. “That’s how I pay for it. At least until the sponsorship comes through.”
“Sponsorship? What sponsorship? You’ve been waiting for a sponsorship for two years now.” I point at the pieces. “That’s seventeen thousand dollars. The minimum payment on that is three hundred and fifty dollars. I repeat. How are you planning on paying it?”
He grabs up his beer and heads out of the kitchen. Oh no. He’s not walking away from this. I follow.
“At least tell me what you bought. Can you at least do that?”
He turns. “Equipment,” he growls at me. “Equipment for the business.”
“Business? Please don’t tell me you bought another boat.”
He looks at me like I’m stupid. “Course not. Got a Polaris.”
I grind my teeth. “You got a four-wheeler for seventeen thousand dollars? Is it gold plated?”
“Don’t be stupid, it’s a utility vehicle. I also got a few other, necessary, things.” He emphasized the word ‘necessary.’
A utility vehicle? With no income coming in, he bought a freakin’ utility vehicle. To do what? Carry his fishing pole from the truck to the boat?
I pause, a terrible thought hitting me. I look at him. “How did you get approved for a credit card that big?”
He lifts a shoulder and takes a drink of his beer.
“Tell me. How did you get approved?”
He’s gone mute. His lips are pressed shut and he has a big sullen expression on his face.
“Is my name on that card?” I lower my voice again. “Did you put my name on that card too?”
He lifts a shoulder again. “So what? We’re married, right? What’s mine is yours and yours is mine.”
I look around the living room. I bought everything we have.
Suddenly tired, more weary than I’d ever been in my life, I turn and walk back into the kitchen. I pour the rest of the juice down the sink, and then wipe off the counter, the back and forth sweep of the sponge soothing me.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t turn. I spray cleaner in the sink and begin to scrub it too.
Then I hear footsteps moving away. Footsteps heading up the steps. I stop scrubbing, taking in deep gulps of air.
I will not cry.
I am strong.
I will get through this.
I will not cry.
Then I lean my forehead down on the counter and sob.
Chapter 4 – Duffy
“Is everything on you this big?”
The girl I’m dancing with curls her fingers around my biceps, stroking and squeezing the muscles. She’s beautiful. Small and thin, with huge tits. They must be fake. I want to wrap my fingers around them and check.
“Want to find out?”
She lifts her eyes up to mine and bites her lip, then nods slowly up and down.
I push her dark hair back, gathering it in my hand and pull her head back until she groans. Then I lean down and speak directly in her ear. “You sure. I fuck hard. Real hard. You up for that?”
I watch her swallow and I loosen my grip on her hair. We’re barely moving to the blaring music. “I like hard,” she says in her sexy British accent and pre
sses against me.
Studying her face, I ask, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” she says quickly and then answers my series of questions correctly. Birthdate. Graduation date. She smiles. “I can show you my passport if you want.”
Looking from her eyes to her lips and to the breasts spilling from her top, I lean forward and say. “I want.”
Her breath hitches and her eyes dilate with passion. Good. I like to affect women that way. “You need to tell anyone you’re leaving with me?”
She looks around, spots a girlfriend and waves.
“Tell her I’m taking you to the Ritz.” I point at a corner table. “I’ll be there. Meet me in five.”
She spins and teeters off to her friends while I join a few of the guys. “I’m out of here,” I tell them. Well, I tell Darren and Stone. Hulk’s busy with the girl curled on his lap. Looks like he’ll be out of here soon too.
“Text the driver when you’re ready to leave. We’ve got him all night.” I look at Darren. “You good?”
He raises his beer and grins. “Fucking awesome.” I haven’t seen him this drunk, or this happy in a few months.
I text the driver to meet me at the front in two minutes. “I’ll be back at the room in a couple hours,” I tell Darren and pull out all the hundreds in my wallet, fold them and push them in his hand. “That should cover the tab and a few hotel rooms if anyone needs it.” He gives me a thumbs up.
We never—ever—bring girls or anyone back to base hotel for any reason. After the Secret Service fiasco in Colombia, I’m happy I never succumbed to the temptation.
Darren grins and his eyes slide from me to someone just past my right shoulder. I turn and the girl is making her way toward me, holding the hand of a beautiful redhead in a tight, slinky, emerald green dress.
“Sean, this is Mia.” She giggles and steps closer to me. “She wants to come too.”
The three of us spill out of the elevator, both girls hanging onto my arms. They’re fake drunk. Silly without being truly intoxicated. It’s becoming a turn-off. I want to fuck women, not girls.
Getting them into the room, I toss my jacket to the floor before I turn them around, pressing them both against the door. “Rule one—no fake drunk. I like you both. I respect you both. I don’t like games.”
They both sobered instantly, the redhead’s cheeks turning a little pink. “What’s rule two?” she asks, her British accent a tremendous turn-on. They are both flight attendants on a two-day layover.
I lean in close to her, close enough to inhale her scent and press my lips to her ear. “Don’t scream too loud.”
She shivers, her fingers gripping my arms, her nails sinking into my skin. “Harder,” I tell her and her eyes flick up to me, confusion in their depths. “Your nails. Harder.”
Her mouth curves, a mixture of female and feline, and she gives me what I want. My skin comes alive and I take her mouth with mine while the brunette—shit, what’s her name?—presses into my back, her hands moving down my abs to tuck her fingers into the waist of my jeans.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The redhead jumps at the sound. “Room service,” I remind her. Both girls step away, the giggling gone. Much better.
The waiter wheels in a cart with champagne, orange juice and strawberries. There’s chocolate sauce as well. And a bottle of good bourbon. Three glasses. Perfect. I lift another lid and smile—a box of condoms. I tip the waiter a fifty, and he very discreetly leaves.
When I turn, the girls are fiddling with their phone, then music pours from the speakers. I don’t recognize the artist, but the beat is heavy, driving, the woman’s voice a soft contrast to the music. I smile as they begin to dance with each other … closely … slowly.
I open the champagne and pour two glasses, then pour two fingers of bourbon for myself. I watch the girls drink and then pour them another. Then I sit on the small sofa to watch the show.
“Undress each other,” I instruct. “Take your time.”
The mood in the room changes in an instant, turning from fun to sensuous before my eyes. Erin and Mia look from me to each other, smiles spreading across their lips. I can tell they’ve done this many times.
My cock thickens as the women embrace and Mia touches her tongue to Erin’s lips. The kiss deepens as the two press together, their hands in each other’s hair. So hot. So fucking hot.
The brunette pulls away first and turns her friend toward me, stepping behind her to unzip her dress. I imagine I hear the hiss of it sliding down above the music, but I’m sure it’s only my imagination.
With the zipper down, Erin pulls the dress from Mia’s shoulders and it falls down her arms, legs and pools around her feet. Erin unhooks her friend’s bra and it follows the same path, and the redhead’s pale, smooth breasts are revealed. She’s left in very skimpy black panties.
As if it’s rehearsed, the redhead turns and soon, Erin is nearly naked too. White panties, a sharp contrast to the black.
What’s beneath?
I can’t wait to find out.
As the girl’s hook their fingers into each other’s panties, I tell them to stop. I want this pleasure to be mine. It’s still my favorite part—the guessing. Neatly trimmed? Landing strip? Completely bare?
I finish my drink and stand. “Lay down on the bed next to each other.”
They do what I say without hesitation.
Erin first—bare. Mia next—landing strip. Both pink and pretty.
“Spread your legs.”
Mia’s back arches as her legs slide apart, opening herself up to my view. I touch her first, my thumb upon her clit and ease two fingers inside. She’s hot and wet. Ready.
Erin spreads for me too, an invitation I readily accept and I sink my fingers into her warmth.
The girls pant as I turn my fingers, then pound into them hard, watching their faces. Fast. Harder. Mia comes first, squirting a little; Erin almost immediately follows.
Stepping over to the box of condoms, I pull one out and roll it on. I take Mia’s hand and pull her from the bed, before turning her around and bending her over, her face between the legs of her friend.
“This will be hard and fast,” I warn her. “Later, I’ll take my time.”
Then I’m slamming home and Mia groans, pushing back to meet me thrust for thrust. Erin’s fingers curl into Mia’s hair as the redhead dips her head, pleasuring the other woman while I bang, over and over, into her depths.
As promised, I come hard and fast, the force of my release slamming me into the girl. I release the tight grip on her hips, afraid I’ll leave bruises, but she doesn’t seem to mind, she keeps eating out the brunette.
I pull away and rip off the condom and reach for another in the box. I’m still hard and plan on being harder. I can and will do this for hours.
“Not yet,” Erin whispers, her eyes on mine, her back arching off the bed. “I want to taste you.”
Palming the condom, I climb on the bed and straddle her chest, my balls teasing the nipples below me. Holding my dick down, I trace the seam of her lips, waiting for the first touch of her tongue, which sends a jolt of hot pleasure through my cock, all the way to my toes and back again.
I fuck them both—or they fuck me or each other—over and over. Every position. Sometimes fast. Sometimes slow. It doesn’t matter.
Hours later, they’re both curled at my sides, their heads on either side of my chest. My dick is limp. Used up and nearly raw.
One of them starts snoring, a soft little sound that makes me smile. It’s time for me to leave. I never spend the night. But I’m comfortable here and find my muscles relaxing into the plush sheets beneath my back.
I’m in a bed. A real bed. Soft mattress. Softer sheets. Air conditioning keeping everything cool. I’ve not been this comfortable in months. Or sated. Physically and emotionally sated.
I close my eyes for just a moment.
Chapter 5 – Grace
Four-thirty comes too early and my hea
d is pounding even before I open my eyes. I’m tempted to call in sick. So very tempted. But I need the money more than ever now. Besides, I don’t like leaving the other nurses in a lurch. And I want to talk to the Rehabilitation Department director to see if I can also work there part-time.
Pulling myself from the bed, I stagger to the shower and in less than a half hour, I’m in scrubs and heading out the door. Ponytails rock and I’m grateful to Nat for trimming a few inches off mine yesterday. It doesn’t look like a rat’s nest and the weight of it feels better against my scalp.
Walking past the guest room, I grimace at the snores coming from the other side of the door. Rob slept there, again.
Asshole.
He’s been doing that a lot lately, even when we aren’t fighting. He says I’m too loud when I get ready for my shift.
I remember when it wasn’t like this. How good things were at the beginning. How happy I was. How happy he seemed to be. Then we screwed it all up by getting married. Stupid. Marriage is stupid. It takes two independent people—or one independent person and a baby—and forces them into a union with expectations neither are ready for.
The early August morning is still warm and sticky as I head out to the car. I glance across the road to Natalie’s house and see a light on upstairs. I hope one of the boys isn’t sick. As I watch, the light flicks out. I’ll have to remember to call her later.
In my car, I plug my phone into the charger and speaker system, then tap Audible to listen to a book. I’m listening to It by Stephen King, again. As a teen, I’d read the book until it fell apart. Listening to it gives it new life. The narrator is awesome.
Listening to books makes the drive go faster, but this time I end up stopping it about thirty minutes in. I can’t concentrate. I have too many worries on my shoulders. And I’m not feeling very good.
Wishing I could drink caffeine, I stop at a gas station to fill up and grab something cold to drink. I scan the selections for something natural. No high fructose corn syrup for my baby. I’ve turned into one of those pregnant women, who read every book and follow every single rule. I can’t help but laugh at myself, I know I’m being silly. Women had babies for millions of years before pre-natal vitamins were invented.
Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance Page 9