Husbandry (15 page)

“Hey.” Chuck caught my hand when I would have grabbed the
nearest grocery bag. He pulled me closer and gave me another kiss. “You’ve got
yourself worked up over nothing, honey. Everything will be fine.” His lips
twitched. “If your parents show up too early, we’ll just lock the door and
pretend we’re not home.”

An image of us diving to the floor and hiding behind
furniture flashed through my mind. The thought made me snort, which loosened
some of my tension. I rested my head on Chuck’s shoulder for a minute.

“Why don’t we use that strategy the whole weekend?” I
suggested.

He clucked his tongue.

With a laugh, I straightened and turned back to the trunk to
unload the groceries.

“Want some help with these?” Chuck asked.

Given the number of bags, my first impulse was to say yes,
but then I caught sight of the grass clippings stuck to the legs of his jeans.

“Thanks, honey, but I’ve got it. Please don’t forget to
strip down out back when you’re done. I don’t want you to track in.”

“No problem.” He closed the car trunk for me after I removed
the last bag. “I’ve just got to finish up and do the edging, and I’ll be in.”

I turned and headed for the door before he could see me roll
my eyes. One of the best things about Chuck was his willingness to tackle
anything you put on his to-do list. And one of the worst things about Chuck was
his refusal to deviate from his daily to-do list once he got started. His
in-laws—his potentially hostile in-laws—could descend upon him at any moment,
and he had to edge the grass. I might have thought Genetic Harmony had given
him this strange anomaly if I hadn’t known most of my male relatives were the
exact same way.

By the time I set the grocery bags on the counter, detoured
to the powder room, and then returned to the kitchen, the low growl of the
mower had been replaced by a higher buzzing noise I recognized as the edger.
This soundtrack kept me company while I unpacked everything and double-checked
that I’d remembered to buy all the ingredients.

Before bed the previous night, Chad and I had agreed I’d
better take care of the dessert. The rosemary and lemon cake was relatively
simple to mix up, but it did take time to bake. We wanted it to be cool in
plenty of time to serve. Chuck was right that I should have called my mom about
the timing since it was difficult to plan a dinner with no clear ETA. Knowing
my mother’s aversion to fast food, though, I was certain my parents would
arrive hungry. I got to work beating together the batter.

I had just put the cake pan in the oven and set the timer
when Chuck walked through the back door and into the kitchen. As directed, he’d
stripped out of his yard clothes, which were probably sitting in a messy pile right
outside the door. This left him in nothing but a pair of pale blue boxer shorts
and yummy, naked skin.

“All done.” He grabbed a glass and filled it with water.
“This place is looking pretty good.”

He was the one who was looking good. His tan skin was dewy
with sweat, and he’d brought in the earthy scent of fresh-cut grass. I watched,
mesmerized, as he tipped back his drink, and his throat worked with every
swallow. A bead of condensation slipped down the side of the glass. Before it
reached his bottom lip, it slid along the curve and stayed poised there for an
endless moment. Then it plopped onto his sternum and ran in a tiny rivulet
toward his waistband. My gaze followed the trail until it disappeared.

Chuck was staring at me when I glanced back up. A small grin
played at his lips, and he set the empty glass aside. Unlike Charles, Chuck
didn’t order me to come to him. Instead, he stalked toward me with slow,
deliberate steps and lime-green eyes that had turned as deep as a tropical
jungle.

His gaze remained locked on mine as he crowded me and caged
me in his arms. He swept one bold, work-roughened hand down my back to cup my
butt.

I squeaked. “What are you doing?”

“What any red-blooded man does when his wife looks at him
like that.” He pulled me closer so I could feel his erection prodding me
through the thin material of his boxer shorts.

A moan escaped me. Without conscious thought, I reached
around to his firm derriere and grabbed my own handful. I tipped back my head
when he kissed my neck all the way from my ear to my shoulder.

“What’s gotten into you?”

I should have been putting a stop to this. Chuck rarely got
so frisky, and this wasn’t the time. But his hands and mouth felt so good.

“I always want you,” he answered. “Right now I want inside
you.”

“My parents.” He had me so wound up I had to gasp for air. I
struggled to hold on to my wits. “They could be here any minute.”

“Better hurry, then.” He reached behind me to pull down the
zipper of my dress.

With the back open, he could shove the short sleeves off my
arms and bare my torso. I drenched my panties when he used his teeth to pull
each bra strap off my shoulders before he popped the clasp and let the
undergarment fall to the floor. His free hand found my breast, plumping and
chafing it with obvious relish.

He caught my lips with his and stroked into my mouth with
his tongue. I released my grip on the taut globe of his butt to clutch his
sweaty shoulders with both hands. His muscles flexed beneath his skin.

Without breaking the kiss, Chuck tried to shove my dress
past my hips, but I had on a thin belt that got in the way. I was about to undo
the buckle when he flipped up my skirt and pulled down my panties instead. The
silky material of my underwear whispered against the thigh-high stockings I’d
put on today.

He backed me toward the refrigerator and pressed me against
the cold door. With my dress bunched around my waist, I felt the chill against
my shoulders and buttocks. I clutched the door handle for support as I watched
him pull his long, hard dick out through the fly of his boxers. In the next
instant, he had my stocking-clad leg hooked over his hip and the crown of that
glorious cock shoved against my opening.

He slowly curled the fingers of his free hand to overlap my
fist on the refrigerator door handle. His grip tightened a split second before
he pushed up and slid his shaft deep.

“Oh!” I yelped at the sudden intrusion and then sighed in
pleasure.

Sandwiched between his steamy body and the fridge, I was
trapped between hot and cold. The contrast made me even more aware of the
scorching brand lodged between my legs. Chuck took his time drawing back his
hips before he lurched forward again with a quick jab of his cock. He repeated
the deliberate thrust twice. After the third time, he rested his forehead
against the cool door above my left shoulder and took me in earnest.

He grunted and groaned, and I keened right along with him.
Somewhere inside the refrigerator, the clack of a glass jar marked our rhythm.
A ridiculous part of me wondered if it was the jar of pickles, all those plump,
phallic vegetables bumping together in there. I was inundated with the scent of
sweaty male, grass, rosemary, and lemon—the recipe for a wicked-hot orgasm.

My womb tightened in anticipation. “Please.”

Chuck increased his tempo, pummeling me with his cock like a
horny teenager, except he had the expertise to make each stroke count. He slid
the bulbous head right over my most sensitive nerve endings and maintained the
perfect angle for a smooth glide. As we came together, the base of his cock hit
my clit with just the right pressure, and his pubic hair tickled mine.

I held tight to his shoulder with my free hand and swung my
other leg up so I could lock my ankles around his waist. This pushed his dick
even deeper into my channel and made him grind my clit so perfectly I screamed.
His pace faltered for only a moment before he adjusted his balance to hold my
full weight. Then he started working me with single-minded focus.

In and out, hard and deep. His hips were tireless as he
banged me. Inside, his stiff length stretched me wide and tore pleasure through
my vaginal walls with every pass. Thanks to the bumpy ride, my right shoe
jiggled off and made a loud
whack
when it hit the floor behind him. I curled my toes.

An eternity later, my pussy gave three slow ripples before
bursting into the heavy flutters of an orgasm. I tightened my legs around his
waist and held him close as I came. The refrigerator shuddered at my back as he
rode out my climax with staccato thrusts.

“Ahhh!” He half barked, half groaned the exclamation when he
finally joined me at the peak.

The sound was so filled with pleasure and relief it made my
pussy lock on to him with renewed vigor. Chuck pushed his cock as deep as it
would go and kept me pinned while it thumped and spit with each pulse of his
ejaculate. He filled me to overflowing.

My brain had to send the message twice before my legs obeyed
and unwound from his waist. I kept my grip on the refrigerator handle until I
was sure I had my balance. Tingles spread through my knuckles and wrist when he
released my hand and I finally let go. I looked up into his face and saw him
wearing a dopey grin.

His expression made my heart turn over. “I love you, Chuck.”
I loved him, and I was going to tell him so every day.

He leaned down to give me a kiss. “I love you too. So are
you more relaxed now?”

I choked out a laugh. So this was my dear husband’s idea of
therapy? Actually, it was pretty effective.

“I am until the endorphins wear off,” I admitted. “Let’s go
clean up before my parents get here and I enter panic mode again.”

He tucked his flagging shaft back into his boxers before he
took my hand to lead me upstairs.

“This is the second time I’ve made love in the kitchen this
week,” I pointed out once we reached the shower. “Have you guys been watching
some kind of food porn or something?”

Chuck smiled. “Food porn? No, but now that you mention it,
that sounds like fun. Want to put on a bikini and wrestle in some creamed
corn?”

“Ew.” I threw the washcloth at him and hurried to rinse off.

I hopped out before he did and headed for the closet once I
was dry. After a brief deliberation, I went with a casual skirt and blouse and
slipped on a pair of sandals. I also made sure to lay out khaki pants and a
nice shirt for Chuck so he wouldn’t wear his work clothes or a T-shirt with
stains.

The oven dinged as I walked back into the kitchen
downstairs. I pulled the cake out and was pleased with how beautiful it looked.
So far, at least, everything was going well.

Chuck joined me and was put to work doing a final dusting
around the house before he set the table. We were about finished when I
witnessed a first: Chad and Charles walking through the door together. Although
I hadn’t doubted Charles’s promise for a minute, I was still overcome with joy
at the sight of him home on time. I threw my arms around both him and Chad
before giving each of them a kiss.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” I told my
workaholic husband.

“Good. I like to see you happy.” Charles flicked my cheek with
his finger. “Now we just have to schmooze your parents over dinner, and maybe
later tonight I’ll make you even happier.”

He was incorrigible.

“Did you pick up all the ingredients I asked for?” Chad
asked.

I turned to him with a haughty tilt of my chin. “Yes. Yours
truly remembered to check her messages today, and I got everything on your
list. The cake is cooling, Chuck set the table and prepared the guest bedroom,
and the house is clean.”

“Got the lawn done too,” Chuck added proudly.

“Good job.” I wasn’t sure whether Chad was addressing me or
the lawn man. “I’ll get dinner started as soon as—”

The chime of the doorbell interrupted him. As one, we turned
to face the door.

We all froze for a moment. Then Charles, always the most
take-charge person, stepped forward and opened the door. There on the other
side stood my mother, looking as cold and intimidating as the most merciless
soldier despite the pretty black-and-white floral print of her blouse.

Charles offered her a smile. “You must be Mrs. Leonard.
Please come in.”

He kept his expression pleasant as he stepped back to let my
mom inside, but he fussed with smoothing his tie. It was a rare nervous gesture
for him—one that let me know he was as anxious about this meeting as the rest
of us. For some strange reason, that actually made me feel better.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” he told my mother. “We spoke
briefly on the phone once. I’m Charles, by the way.”

My mom scanned him from head to toe, not bothering to hide
the fact that she was scrutinizing him. Since she appreciated nice clothes, I
had no doubt she approved of his smart business suit. The fact that he was
obviously a good provider would also be in his favor. What remained to be
determined was whether she approved of Charles himself.

Her expression remained unreadable as she shook his hand.
“Minnie Leonard.”

It was a disarming nickname. There was nothing “mini” about
my mother, not in body or personality. Her full name was Minerva.

“Hi, Mom.” I laid my hand on Charles’s back as I leaned in
to give her a kiss hello. “I hope you and Dad had a good trip. I’d like you to
meet my other husbands. This is Chuck and Chad.” I indicated each in turn.

“Hi.” Chuck gave her a quick handshake.

Chad clasped her hand between his and graced her with his most
winning smile. “Delighted. Welcome to our home, Mrs. Leonard. Or do you prefer
Minnie?”

“Minnie is fine.” My mother’s gaze bounced from one of my
men to the other. “So you’re the man…men my daughter married. Genetically
identical, she tells me. You certainly look it. Does that make you triplets?”

“Not exactly,” Charles answered.

“More like multiple personalities.” Chad delivered the
wisecrack with his usual aplomb, but our responding laughter sounded strained.