Husbandry

Husbandry

Copyright © March 2013 by Allie Ritch

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the
original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be
reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without
prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or
encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.
Purchase only authorized editions.

eISBN 9781623002992

Editor: Tamzin Mitchell

Cover Artist: Dar Albert

Published in the United States of America

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 809

San Francisco CA 94104-0809

www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might
be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names,
characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult
language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s
e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in
which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot
be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice,
especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance
of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be
responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the
information contained in any of its titles.

To Trudy: artist,
smarty-pants, and my grandmother. Like Fila’s grandma, mine really did say we
women should have two husbands—one to be romantic and one to be a good father
and provider. Thanks for the inspiration, Grandma!

“Honey, I’m home.” Although I knew it was a terrible cliché,
I delivered the greeting with a smile as I came through the door.

The words were still a novelty to me and felt strange on two
levels. My marriage was only five months old, so I wasn’t used to having
someone waiting for me yet. We’d also only just bought the house—a great
fixer-upper with more room than I was convinced we needed. It was the first
time I’d ever owned my own home.

Wasn’t it amazing how quickly life could change? After three
decades of single life, I’d been convinced I, Fila Marie Leonard, would be a
bachelorette forever. I was self-sufficient enough that the thought had held no
terror, except I’d always wanted a family. And to be honest, watching all my
friends get married and have children had begun to make me feel left out.

So I’d done something I’d never thought I’d do. I’d finally
gone husband hunting. Or maybe husband
shopping
was a better description. Genetic Harmony Inc. was a very sophisticated
matchmaking service that guaranteed results. I’d visited one of their satellite
facilities since their main office was not only located several states away but
on a parallel world within the multiverse.

Now, I didn’t usually do business across worlds. I didn’t
even fully understand the concept of a multiverse. Science had never been my
forte, although my college history class covered it best: About the time Gregor
Mendel, the father of modern genetics, was born in our world, one of the
Alternate Earths was already busy doing gene therapy to cure diseases and
engineer immunity to viruses. This was in response to a pandemic that wiped out
over half their world’s population—similar to the bubonic plague or the Spanish
flu here.

Needless to say, Alternate Earth was a great deal more
advanced. So advanced, in fact, their scientists contacted us and formed a
bridge between their world and ours some seventy-plus years ago. Now dealings
between the universes were carefully regulated by a slew of government agencies
that controlled trade and business between realities.

My transaction with Genetic Harmony Inc. cost me two things:
a hefty sum of money and the donation of a few of my eggs to assist with
genetic study and diversity on Alternate Earth. The latter concerned me at
first, but I’d been assured (in writing) that they wouldn’t use my gametes to
clone me. I’d also verified there wasn’t an alternate me running around over
there who might be offended.

In return for this payment, the staff at Genetic Harmony put
me through numerous psychological evaluations and personality tests. Then they
wired me up to a frightening array of machines and studied my hormone levels
and sexual responses to auditory and visual stimuli. In short, they examined me
inside and out in order to determine my perfect match. In order to
create
that match.

“Hey there, hon.” My perfect match now walked into the foyer
to welcome me home with a kiss.

I only worked part-time, so it was midafternoon and still
sunny outside. Judging by the tool belt riding Chuck’s jean-clad hips, I knew
my husband must have spent the morning tackling repairs and renovations. He was
always busy fixing something around the house, which helped him keep trim,
although he’d put on a few extra pounds thanks to my cooking.

I could see I needed to give him a haircut. His glossy black
curls were starting to riot, giving him a scruffy look that complemented the
precursors of a five-o’clock shadow I saw darkening his chin and jaw. Nothing
could distract me from his lime-green eyes, though. They looked back at me from
between thick, black lashes.

“How was your day?” His rich, husky voice gave me shivers,
despite his casual tone.

“Same old, same old.” I was far more interested in his day.
Hooking one finger in his waistband, I pulled him closer. “How about you? What
have you been up to? Getting all hot and sweaty?”

His smile was boyish and innocent, but I knew he couldn’t
ignore my hold on his pants. “Not so much. I stayed indoors today. Check it
out.” He took my hand and pulled me toward the staircase. “See? The banister
doesn’t wobble anymore, and I fixed the bullnose at the landing. And look at
this.”

I followed him the rest of the way up to the second floor.

He used his free hand to open and close the door to the
master bedroom. “I fixed the hinges so the door no longer creaks or sticks.”

I returned appropriate sounds of appreciation before I
pulled him close again. “I could get used to having a handyman around.”

“Yeah?” This time there was no mistaking the spark of heat
in his gaze. “Well, I’m not done yet. Still on the list is enlarging the
bathroom and adding extra sinks.”

“You know how to make a girl weak in the knees.” I was only
half joking. Visions of my dream bathroom already danced through my head. “What
about bigger closets?”

His smile was devastating. “Of course. I’ll even install an
organizer.”

“Oh baby.” Stretching up, I caught his full bottom lip
between my teeth before I traced it with my tongue.

He cupped my hips and then shifted his hold so he held my
butt with his strong hands. I swore I could feel the scorching heat of each
finger through the thin fabric of my skirt, and I could definitely feel his
erection straining against the fly of his jeans. His mouth was firm, yet satiny
soft as it slanted over mine. The fresh scent of his morning shaving cream
still clung to his skin beneath his stubble—a subtle trace barely perceptible
beneath the woodsy aroma that always seemed to infuse his pores.

Chuck deepened the kiss until our tongues tangled. He walked
me back toward the oversize bed on the far side of the room. I finally forced
him to break for air when I caught the hem of his T-shirt and tugged it over
his head. Before he could pull me close again, I stepped back to admire what
I’d uncovered.

“Mmm.” I licked my lips in appreciation.

He looked like a fantasy come to life, standing there shirtless
with his tool belt on. A smattering of hair peppered his chest and formed a
line that arrowed down until it disappeared beneath his waistband. He had a
subtle tan line that showed where his T-shirt had been. For some reason, the
change in skin tone made me grin. Unable to resist, I ran my palms up his chest
and across his broad shoulders.

“You look so sexy,” I told him.

“You’re the sexy one.” He brushed a stray strand of blonde
hair off my shoulder before undoing the buttons on my blouse. “How did I get so
lucky?”

I felt the same way. And I was about to get even luckier.

My blouse hit the floor, leaving the way clear for him to
cup my breast through my bra. Then he was kissing me again, fogging my brain
with lust and mounting urgency. He shifted his hold, and I felt his callused
hands glide up my back. He popped the clasp of my bra and slipped the straps
down my arms, leaving me topless.

Although I was anxious to feel his palms chafe my nipples, I
didn’t want him to get ahead of me. I locked gazes with him as I stepped out of
my shoes and sank to my knees. The laces on his work boots required some effort
to loosen, but that just built my anticipation. If the bulge in his blue jeans
was anything to go by, the suspense was getting to him too.

I tossed each shoe over my shoulder and heard the muted
thunk
of impact as they hit the old
beige carpet we had yet to replace. Under the circumstances, the mismatched
socks I discovered on his feet struck me as endearing. He was always making
little wardrobe mistakes like that, even though I did the laundry and sorted
everything for him. Both the sock with the striped toe and its unmarked mate
landed silently beside his boots.

When his gaze lowered to my bare breasts, I felt a hot flush
spread across my skin. My nipples pebbled under the attention and grew so
sensitive I couldn’t resist leaning into his legs. The thick denim covering
them was infused with his body heat and strafed the tips of my breasts with
every move I made. That included when I slipped my hands up his long legs to
reach for his fly.

The pop of the button and the rasp of the zipper were barely
audible beneath my heavy breathing. I hadn’t realized just how hard I was
panting until that moment. He wasn’t much quieter, and I had a clear view of
his chest bellowing in and out above me. I heard him groan as I freed his
erection, though I was careful to do no more than brush his eager cock with my
fingers.

Even from my position of supplication, I had a tough time
stripping off his jeans. Chuck lost his balance when he had to lift one leg and
almost went down before he caught himself against the foot of the bed. It
didn’t matter. His gaze continued to bounce between my face and breasts, and we
were too comfortable with each other for a little stumble to break the mood.

My mouth went dry at the sight of him sans pants and boxer
shorts. He looked like he’d walked right off the page of a naughty calendar.
All he wore now was his leather tool belt, and the sunlight shafting between
the window curtains fell right across his torso and thighs. The twin front
pockets bulged with pliers and screwdrivers and other tools and framed his most
valuable piece of equipment. His cock stood so high the dark mushroom head
reached past the buckle.

Like the rest of him, his prick was the perfect match for
me. It was big enough to stretch and fill me completely without crossing the
line into pain.

Hot cream drenched my panties until I had to squeeze my
thighs together. Seeing him like this sent my imagination into overdrive. A
million kinky notions raced through my brain, but I didn’t have time to act on
any of them. In the next instant, Chuck unclasped his tool belt and dropped it
aside on the floor. Although he’d never disappointed me, he wasn’t big on
foreplay. He was clearly done waiting.