by Sosie Frost
He said nothing else, taking my hand and leading me to the barn.
Not that I was feeling particularly amorous at the moment.
I followed him, stumbling into the newly constructed barn. The door soundly closed behind us.
“You know…” For as slurred I’d made my words, the alcohol sure as hell sharpened them. “You’re one to talk, Marius Payne. You’re gonna call me a coward? Fine. Tell me what you’d do if you didn’t have a baby. What’s gonna happen when everyone in DC realizes you aren’t this family man that we’ve invented? What happens when they see the real you?”
His stare hardened. “And who is the real me?”
“Hell if I know, but I’d love to find out.”
“Would you?”
I wavered on my feet. He caught me, my skin heating under his touch. “You won’t let me close. You won’t open up. You won’t let me see you.”
“There’s nothing left to see.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Marius stalked away, deeper into the barn. I followed, picking an uneven path in the low light. A few dazzling rays of sunset drifted through new timbers. The scent of fresh wood, hay, and mustiness filled the stalls. I bumped against the half-walls, but Marius said nothing.
He took me by the hips, lifted me up, and placed me onto the railing. My skirt drifted upwards, but I poked his chest before he poked me.
“What is it about you?” I whispered. “Why won’t you talk to me? What horrible secrets are you keeping that you’re so afraid of me learning?”
Marius frowned. Always so serious, so dark and tortured.
He had a wonderful smile I never got to see. But that was good. Prevented me from falling too hard for him. Then I really would be lost. Then, I’d never find my way out of his emerald eyes, his silken touch.
“What do you want to know?” he asked. “You know the kind of man I am. What I’d become. Nothing can change that. But you agreed to this. To take me the way I was. You can’t demand any more than that.”
“I don’t need you to be any more than you already are…” I swallowed. “I just want you to trust me.”
“Would I fuck you if I didn’t trust you?”
“Would you lie to me if you did?”
“Do you want to get fucked or not?”
At this point fucking was all we had. We only trusted each other was when our worlds collided, our hearts melded, and we could share in that absolute honesty. He never said what he felt, never let me close to the pain, suffering, or rage that consumed him.
But when we moved together?
I almost understood him.
“What do you want?” I wished the tears hadn’t burned my eyes. “You’re so quick to judge me, but what about you? Do you want me to fuck you?”
“More than anything.”
“What do you get out of it?”
He scowled. “What kind of question is that?”
It was the only question that fucking mattered anymore. “Do you want a baby? Fine. We’ll have a baby. Do you want to just get off? Fine. We’ll use each other in silence for the rest of our lives. Do you want me to help you?”
His expression darkened. “You can’t help me.”
“Not if you don’t let me try. There’s something you haven’t told me, Marius, and it’s killing you.”
Maybe I’d imagined it—all the tender touches, soft kisses, and quick flutters of my heart.
Maybe I’d fallen for the wrong man—thinking I could have a future with someone damaged and wounded.
Or maybe there was a part of him screaming for my help.
Begging for my love.
I couldn’t let him fade away.
Marius gripped my skirts. He stared at me, voice harsh. “Gretchen, I…”
A clatter rose from the corner of the barn, summoning an unholy, demonic cry that echoed from the rafters.
“What the fuck…”
Marius hauled me off the railing and pushed me behind him. I followed. The petticoats didn’t. They tangled in my ankles as I rolled into the hay. He leapt in front of me, arms bent, ready to punch.
“Gretchen, run!”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I kicked the petticoats away and raced to the door. Marius followed, hollering as the creature clamored behind him.
The cry echoed again, a creeping bellow ripped from the depths of hell.
From the darkness skulked a dark, oppressive shadow. Clinging to the night, suffocating in hatred, it shuffled a broken and unwieldy gait. It’s hollow, desperate cry chilled my blood.
Marius armed himself with a pitchfork. I grabbed my cell from my corset, lighting the flashlight app.
And the alpaca stepped into the brightness.
Marius grumbled. “Oh, Christ. It’s just…Alicia?”
The alpaca lurched before us, skin taut, head down, teeth bared.
And a burst of liquid showered from her behind.
Into the night, a second bleat demanded blood.
“Holy shit…” Marius aimed the pitchfork. “It’s absorbing the other animals!”
I slapped his arm. “No, you idiot! She’s having a baby!”
And she was in trouble.
The poor alpaca labored with deep, quivering breaths. She attempted to lay on her knees, then stood again, turning in a tight circle to try to move as an even uglier alpaca did it’s best to wiggle from an unmentionable region of leathery despair.
Marius couldn’t handle it.
He put his hand on his knees, took a deep breath, and nearly retched. “Holy Christ, Gretchen. I’m sorry. I had no idea I was gonna do that to you.”
I rolled my eyes. Hopefully, when my time finally came, I’d give birth with a bit more dignity than heaving a twenty-pound alpaca through my vagina in the middle of the farm.
“I gotta get Dad,” I said. “He’ll know what to do.”
Marius gripped my arm, eyes wide. “Don’t leave me alone with it!”
The SEAL could fight terrorists and hunt warlords, but he couldn’t comfort a birthing pachyderm?
Men.
“Call your brothers,” I said.
“Call a goddamned priest. That’s an abomination.”
“Then find Varius. See if he can’t bless some water or Mountain Dew or something.”
I raced through the grass, the alcohol teetering me as I skidded into a tent post and aimed for the DJ booth. The wedding had turned from joyous party to World War I battleground. The dance floor served as a trench, a row of tables as barbed wire. No mustard gas, but the buffet had a bit of mayo and ketchup that sure as hell would stain.
I grabbed the microphone from the DJ and whistled.
“Dad!” I pointed to the barn. “We need you! It’s the alpaca!”
Dad always had been Butterpond’s best veterinarian, never letting any animal stay in pain or danger. But Chloe reached me first, yanking off her veil and tossing her bouquet to the first person she saw.
Me.
“Something’s wrong with the alpaca?” Chloe asked. “I’ve mostly studied horses, but they probably have the same parts.”
God, I hoped so, but for all I knew, Alicia was half-alpaca, half-hellspawn. “She’s in labor.”
Dad reached my side with a huff, pulling off his jacket and abandoning a rather unsavory conversation with Chloe’s father. “How far along is she?”
I had no idea, so I mimed the calf’s appearance, shoulders halfway dislocated, hooves forward, expressions just as disillusioned as ours. At least we had the benefit of distance between us and Alicia’s leathery nether portal.
“Huh. Then she’s almost done.” Dad nodded to Chloe. “Not a breach. This should be easy.”
Chloe giggled. “After you, Dr. Murphy.”
Somehow, Chloe managed to conjure the only image more horrifying than the baby emerging from the alpaca’s alpacer.
Marius raced from the farmhouse, his brothers in tow. Julian was the only other Payne brave enough to face the impend
ing disaster. Tidus and Quint kept their distance. Varius had brought his Bible—either as a means to bless the event or to wield it as a weapon.
Quint shoved Varius towards Alicia’s leaking puddles. “Oh Christ, oh Christ, oh Christ. What’s it doing, man? What’s wrong with it?”
“She’s having a baby,” I said.
This, Quint couldn’t believe. He stared at the hairless monstrosity and asked what we were all wondering.
“What kind of desperate-ass animal would hump that?”
Julian shared a more practical worry. “Should we be concerned that she’s making more of herself?”
I frowned. “Well, when Micah and I bought her, the farmer said she’d been bullied at the farm. Maybe…he wasn’t watching that closely.”
Tidus snorted. “Wish I could get bullied like that.”
Dad soothed Alicia with a gentle touch to her hindquarters. He surveyed the damage and ordered Chloe to back away from the posterior as her dress was likely to get caught in the deluge. Chloe refused, joining Dad and helping to grip the baby’s shoulders.
They twisted.
Stepped back.
And with a bellow of relief, a second, hairless, repulsive little bugger flooded into the world.
Quint backed away, eyes wide. “This shit’s not right.”
Except…
It was right.
Alicia ignored the veterinarians, the wedding, and her own discomfort to tend to her baby—a tiny little bundle of ugly equally perplexed by his own existence.
And here, I’d thought Alicia was alone, a cranky, hairless alpaca, destined for solitude. Maybe the world didn’t understand her, and maybe Quint tended to light incense and throw sage at her in frantic exorcisms, but now she had a family to help, support, and love.
I reached for Marius, but he didn’t look at me. Didn’t even stretch out his fingers.
Must have shared the same dangerous, humbling fear.
How the hell could the alpaca get pregnant…
And we didn’t have a baby?
19
Gretchen
Ironfield Renaissance
Room 301
9:00 PM
(Yes, this is a booty call.)
It felt prudent labeling the night as a booty call because God knew I’d made the mistake before.
But tonight meant so much more than meaningless, animalistic sex.
Tonight was about how much I wanted him forever.
I’d had a revelation. After the last time I’d peed on the stick, nearly losing my sanity while waiting for the five minutes to tick-tock their way into my soul, and after enduring that crushing despair as the word negative appeared once more, I’d realized this plan…
Was probably going to take a while.
And our arrangement was more heartbreaking than I’d thought.
The sex had been good. Really good. And every minute I spent in Marius’s arms was better than the last. But being with him, getting so close to him…
Only proved that I was still so very alone.
That ended now.
We were fixing this. Us. The relationship.
Marius thought he could keep me at a distance, but I knew he felt the same way for me as I felt for him. And if I didn’t confront him tonight, if I didn’t share that secret…
I’d never have the courage to do it again.
But once he heard those words, everything would change. The pressure would alleviate. We could face the problems head-on. Find strength in each other.
And we’d finally ask the question we feared the most.
Why couldn’t I get pregnant.
He knocked on the door just as I poured the champagne. If the alcohol didn’t convince him I was serious, the devilishly red negligée would do the trick. Hell, I’d already given him everything else. My future. My virginity.
My heart.
A small smile tempted his lips as he appraised the teddy. His eyes studied me, head-to-toe, like he memorized my every curve. I didn’t mind the stare though I much preferred a closer inspection. He was in for a long night, and I wasn’t letting him go without a very thorough, very detailed exploration.
I handed him a glass of champagne. “Glad you can make it.”
Marius downed the drink with a single gulp. That was one way to get started. I did the same, but nerves and an empty stomach rushed the bubbles straight to my head.
“Gretchen…”
I pressed my fingers against his lips. “You know what I want.”
“You leave very little to the imagination.”
“Sometimes it takes a lot to get through to you.” I tugged him towards the bed. He hesitated with a heavy breath. “But after tonight, you’re going to understand me perfectly. You’re the only man who can.”
“Are we celebrating?”
I didn’t want to answer that. It was the only question he ever asked me. Had it happened yet? Did it feel like it’d worked? What were the chances? Is there a possibility?
He watched me sip the champagne. “Oh.”
“We can try again.”
I guided him onto the bed and stood between his legs. The teddy didn’t fit well, but that only excited him. A thin, silken strap glided over my shoulder. His fingers traced it, the warmth circling straight to my belly.
Did he notice how my breathing trembled around him? How I stared at him, needing to hold his arms so tight when he drew his eyes to mine?
He’d speak, and I’d melt.
He’d kiss me, and I’d crumble.
But he didn’t believe me. Didn’t want to see.
It was like he didn’t want this to be real.
Why?
“It’s been a couple long months,” I whispered.
Hard months. Discouraging months. And now every time he rolled away from me, it felt as if I’d done something wrong. Or that something was wrong with me. The pressure, stress, and absolute loneliness destroyed me.
I took his hand, kissing his fingers. “Sometimes…it takes a little extra time. I know it’ll be complicated in DC, but we’ll manage. We don’t need to rush or worry. We’ll do this together, Marius. I’m here for as long as it takes.”
He reached for me, and I crashed against his chest. Our lips met, but my quiet kiss revealed entirely too much.
But he had to feel it. Had to know.
We belonged together. Absolutely. Forever. Me pressed against him, his hand caressing my curves.
Nothing had ever felt so right.
I slipped over his lap, straddling him with nothing between my most delicate parts and the denim of his jeans. The smallest, barest graze of his knee bumped against my slit. I gasped. A dizzying excitement shivered through my core, and he’d barely touched me.
Just the idea of him crushed me. I sunk against him once more, desperate to be warmed, kissed, filled.
Why didn’t he understand this? Why didn’t he trust us?
“Gretchen, you have no idea how badly I want you…” His words ached in a solemn whisper. “But…”
I wouldn’t let him speak it. I stole his kiss and drove myself against his lap. The teddy slipped, and I ground against his jeans. His hardness grew, desperate and hot.
His profanity turned confession.
“Fuck me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
I’d accept any apology as long as he kissed me with such intensity. Marius gripped my negligée and ripped, tearing the silk. I gasped as the material slid over my skin, the red contrasting so beautifully against my dark skin.
And then I was nude.
Exposed.
His.
Marius groaned, seizing my kiss as he flipped me onto the bed. My legs parted for him like always. Eager. Desperate.
My desire should have shamed me, but I’d longed for his touch, his stare. Marius fought his own discomfort to kneel on the floor beside the bed, pulling me close so he could dive into my slit.
His tongue flicked. His every lick became a soulful, deliberate exploration
. He was delicate. Harsh. Quick. Slow. Everything at once and so ravenous as he suckled against my clit.
“Sweetness…” His words broke. “I don’t deserve this.”
He feasted upon me with an absolute vulgar enthusiasm. Sucking. Slurping. Tasting. His tongue sunk deep into me as if to claim every drop of cream in my burning core.
“I’m yours.” My voice trembled as he punished my clit with a furious desperation. “I’ve been yours since the moment I met you. I knew what we could have together.”
His grip tightened on my hips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not hurting me. This is…”
“I shouldn’t be doing this to you.” The sorrow in his words masked a growl, dangerous and enthralling. “I shouldn’t have done this to you.”
For a man so strong, so primal, Marius suffered from too much guilt for his passions.
But why?
All I wanted was to feel him inside me—pounding, pulsing, taking me with every brutal power he possessed. I was his, and I needed to be claimed and fucked every way he had promised. The ways that made babies, the ways that didn’t, the ways that shamed us, the ways that thrilled us.
And Marius wanted it too. Despite his hesitations and apologies, he stared at me with that deliberate, animalistic lust that hungered for my dark curves and soft heat. He loved to pin me beneath him. He craved my excitement, my desire.
The need crippled me. I was so achingly, heartbreakingly desperate for him I reached to my own slit to ease the ache.
He tried to pull away, but his hands betrayed him. He gripped my hips as if I were the one trying to escape.
“I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me,” he whispered.
“Leave me hanging and I’ll hate you forever.”
“I can’t keep doing this to you, sweetness. I can’t keep taking you. Can’t keep destroying you, degrading you like this.”
Degrading me? I reached for him. “Marius, what we do together, what we’re trying to make, is beautiful.”
He leaned over me, hand on his belt. His fingers actually shook.
My poor sailor.
I pushed him away from his jeans and freed him myself. His cock sizzled in my hand, heavy and violently hard.
“Why deny this?” I whispered. “Why deny how we feel? The only thing that shames us is how we refuse to surrender to this. Let me pleasure you. Let me…”