Page 49

DEACON

FIVE YEARS LATER

It’s autumn. The fields smell like sweet grass. The woods smell like earth and ferns.

Bittern and I have been out haying the fields all day. The sun is just starting to drop. He went back to employee housing, to his wife, Janie, who’s a few months pregnant with their first baby. I’m closing the gates to the back pasture and locking it for the night.

In the distance, I hear a door fly open. That’ll be the boys, probably on the run from Ginny. I turn and see them, streaking up the hill at top speed. Slate wears a pair of muddy shorts, and his younger brother, Gage, runs after him in just a diaper. He’s so young, but he’s already climbing through the fields and woods of Ryder Ranch, every bit as wild as his brother.

I married a woman in love with the outdoors. She’s happy to let the fields and streams raise her babies to be wild and free, and I have no complaints. I’m proud of how strong my sons are. Slate is bold and chatters about anything and everything. Gage is the strong, silent type, an ever-present scowl on his tiny forehead.

“Dad,” Slate yells.

I break into a slow run, catching him with one arm. I grab Gage with the other and carry them giggling down the hill, tucked under each arm. We burst into the house, waking Stu from his spot on the living room rug. He shakes his heavy coat and barks, chasing after the boys as they spill onto the couch.

A door shuts upstairs. I look up to see my wife’s legs appear, the hem of her skirt and her beautiful face following. She’s changed since we met, for the better. When she moves through the house, it’s clear she’s comfortable. This is her home and she knows it.

I lean on the railing, and she stops, bending to kiss me. I linger, tasting her on my tongue. When I draw back, she’s smiling.

“You’re a little horny,” she whispers.

“I’m always horny when I see you,” I say quietly, even though the boys are yelling so loudly, they couldn’t hear us anyway. “Let’s get these kids in bed.”

She touches my temple, tracing the tattoos under my buzzed hair. “I’m wearing what you set out,” she murmurs.

I glance down, warmth tingling in my veins. This morning, I laid out a set of deep red lingerie and the dress she’s wearing. She lifts her neckline an inch, and I see the crimson strap of her bra.

Alright, time to get these kids in bed.

I turn. “Boys, go brush your teeth,” I holler.

She laughs, shaking her curls back and floating down the stairs. My sons start arguing like a pair of lawyers, running through every reason under the sun why they shouldn’t be in bed. I duck around the couch and grab them both, turning them in the direction of the stairs.

“Go on, let’s go,” I order.

They obey, already arguing about who gets to brush their teeth first. I follow them, herding them to the bedroom at the far end of the hall. They have a set of bunk beds I made and Freya painted with forest animals. I built a fort in the corner, complete with a fake tree that reaches the ceiling. It’s the room every child dreams of, the kind neither Freya nor I would have dared to dream of as children.

“Dad,” Slate yells from the bathroom. “Gage is pouring the toothpaste in the toilet.”

I sigh, stepping in just in time to snatch the toothpaste from Gage as he squeezes it into the toilet. Slate is brushing his teeth, but only the front two. I correct him, even though I’ve done it a hundred times before. Gage clings onto my leg, begging for the toothpaste back.

I set him on the sink. “Alright, show your teeth,” I order.

A glint appears in his eyes. Grinning, he clamps his jaws shut.

Damn kids. I do the best I can to brush his teeth, even though he’s giggling. Apparently, this is the funniest thing he’s ever done, because he’s gasping for breath by the time I give up and put the toothbrush away. I turn on the shower and toss them both in, scrubbing all the dirt from the garden off, and get them into their pajamas.

They give me hell, but my life is perfect.

A son under each arm, I carry them out to the bunk beds and sling them into bed. Freya appears with two cups of water and a storybook. Immediately, they straighten up and pretend they weren’t acting like little animals.

I tuck them both in. Freya reads them a story. We kiss them on the head and turn out the lights. On the other side of the door, I cock my head. They’re both silent, tired out from the day.

“I’m going to the attic for a minute,” Freya whispers.

I nod. “Don’t be too long. I’m going to have a shower. After that, you’re all mine.”

She blushes, glancing over her shoulder as she opens the attic door. “Yes, daddy.”

I think about her the entire time I’m in the shower, but I’m always thinking about her. I never stop marveling at how much she’s changed my life. I went from being lonely every night to having a full house .

Never in my wildest dreams did I dare to hope my life would end up this good.

I towel off and pull on my sweats. Then, walking quietly, I head up the stairs to the attic. She’s sitting at her desk, chin in her palm, flipping through a book. The fern-green walls are covered in her sketches. Beetles, butterflies, and other insects are preserved behind glass and mounted on the walls. Dried flowers hang in bunches by the windows. Books are stacked by the couch and fill the shelves. Everything smells faintly of vanilla.

She still works a few days a month at the café, helping Tracy, and the scent of baked goods still clings to her curls and soft skin.

I cross the room and bend, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. “You ready for bed, sweetheart?”

She turns, looking up at me with those big blue eyes.

“Does bed mean sleep? Or fun?”

I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. “Bed means fun, then sleep.”

She smiles as I kiss her mouth, velvety and tasting of my wife. “Good, because I’m horny. Let’s make another baby.”

My brows rise. She wriggles out of my arm, gives me a look over her shoulder, and dashes down the stairs. I’m hot on her heels, catching her as she ducks into our room. She yelps as I toss her onto the bed and climb over her, pinning her by the wrists.

“Do you mean that?”

She bites her lip, releasing it. “Maybe we just fuck and see what happens?”

“No birth control?”

She shakes her head. In my sweats, my cock is rock hard. Slowly, I lift her skirt and ease her dress up over her head. Her lovely, curvy body is decorated with deep red lingerie and the silver chastity belt. I hate that she can’t wear it while she’s pregnant. It’s so pretty on her hips.

I bend my head, running the tip of my tongue along the straps that cradle her hips. She moans, lashes fluttering. I bite, feeling her flesh sink under my teeth. Her spine arches. I slide my fingers between it and the bed, tracing the delicate bones.

My wife. My now, my forever.

“I’ll give you anything you want, sweetheart,” I murmur.

She breathes, lifting her hips, begging for my mouth between her thighs. I glance up, and she touches my face, tracing up to the tattoos showing through my hair. I never got any more cover ups. There’s no need. She thinks I’m perfect, and that’s all that matters.

“Eat my pussy, daddy,” she breathes.

I cock my head. “What do you say?”

“Please?”

I unfasten the chastity belt and lay it aside. Then, I bend my head, peeling her panties aside. The soft scent of her pussy reaches my nose. I press my mouth to her sex, sliding my tongue over her. She tastes like heaven, like Freya. Moaning, I eat her until she’s got her thighs clamped over my ears. It doesn’t take her long to gasp and shudder. Wetness drips down my chin, her nails digging into my shoulder.

I lick her clean and take her panties down. Then, I lift her into my lap and unhook her bra, letting her breasts fall free. Every time, they take my breath away. Now, the first time, even when we’re old.

She’s naked except for the soft chains that make her mine. Our eyes connect. We both shudder as I push down the front of my pants and slide her onto my cock.

Her spine arches, her hair tumbling down her naked back. I grit my teeth, controlling the first thrust. I want to feel every inch.

“God,” she gasps. “You feel so good.”

I shift up against the headboard, pulling her close. She moans, one hand on my chest to steady herself, and starts moving. If my only purpose in life is to fuck my wife, that would be enough. Just to watch her pleasure is enough.

She rises and falls, riding hard. She takes pleasure the way she gives it—without any shame. She’s come such a long way from the scared girl I saw in that alleyway. Now, she’s as confident as she is beautiful .

We fuck the way we have nearly every night since our marriage. Then, we fall exhausted into bed. She snuggles close, her back warm against my stomach. I turn out the light, and my eyes adjust.

“Look,” I whisper.

She lifts her head, following my finger to where I’m pointing out the window. Over the inky mountains shimmers pink and a shadow of green. Neither of us speak. We don’t have to. We hold each other and watch the colors ripple over the sky until they fade to darkness.

Then, the stars come out.

THE END