Five Years Later

Ike built me a palace.

It took him a whole year—and half of that time, I was pregnant with our first son. I was already aroused like nobody’s business thanks to my condition, but watching my seven-foot barbarian chop heavy tree trunks while his sweat glistened in the sunlight? The damn place could have been built in half the time if I hadn’t continually tempted him into the cave. Not that it was hard. He was a sucker for my fuller breasts and glowing skin.

So much so that he got me pregnant a second time. And a third.

It’s a really good thing we have this big cabin now, because now that we have three children, I don’t think I would sleep a wink worrying about spiders and snakes making their way indoors at night. After we got the Farleys out of our lives—and into a jail cell—Ike taught me how to combat the dangers of the woods, but still followed me around like a shadow, afraid of me dying from a snakebite like his mother. Now that we have the sealed cabin, he sleeps much more soundly, usually with a baby or two tucked into the crook of his neck.

Which means I spend a lot of time sighing in happiness.

It’s kind of my main hobby now.

Our cabin has a lot of modern amenities, like rugs and actual beds—king sized, to fit my man. Books line our handmade shelves, mostly educational texts, since I’m preparing to home school our children as soon as they’re old enough. We have these useful things thanks to my fishing skills. We return to Piccadily once a week to barter the freshest fish in exchange for whatever we want. Turns out, our stream has some pretty in-demand offerings. No sex fish, though. Wink.

I love the life I’ve built with Ike. He’s my partner, my hero, my lover.

My best friend.

Our arrangement with Piccadilly has also been useful for things like modern medicine—and the drugs that came in really handy when it came time to deliver our babies. Or when Ike grew determined to make me his wife in all ways, legal and otherwise, we held a private ceremony in the town hall. I can still remember the way he laughed as we ran hand in hand back to the hills, my veil streaming out behind me in the wind.

Speaking of Ike, I hear his familiar heavy tread on the floorboards behind me and know he’s finished putting the kids to bed. Without needing any encouragement, I rise from the couch and meet him in the center of our living room, sliding my arms around his neck and laying my cheek over his heart, savoring the strong, reliable beat.

“Our daughter is the toughest to get to sleep,” he says gruffly while stroking my hair. “She asks hundreds of questions.”

“She’s stalling because she doesn’t want to sleep.” I poke him in the stomach. “And you fall for it, because you’re wrapped around her finger.”

“Ahhh.” He grunts. “I am on to her game now. I won’t fall for it again.”

“Sure you won’t.”

My sarcasm has Ike tickling my ribs until I squeal, twisting in his arms. He throws me up in his hold like I weigh nothing, striding from the cabin.

We walk less than a minute before we reach our cave. We kept it for ourselves, so we could be alone when the occasion calls for it. Which is…daily. Sometimes twice daily. Ike is more insatiable than ever and so am I. My need for him is part of me. It’s vibrant, alive and demands to be nurtured often.

“I am starved for the taste of your pussy, Diana,” Ike groans, throwing me down on the pallet of freshly washed bedding. “Open your legs for me. Be a good girl and let me eat.”

My back arches, a web of bliss already weaving in my belly. Lord, he’s not only learned a lot more about sex talk—thanks to yours truly—but he wields it like a weapon. One I succumb to every time. Happily. “Yes, Ike. Yes.”

He strips off my loincloth and holds it in his hands. “This was a very bad thing you did, Diana. Dying your bikini red.”

My expression is deceptively innocent. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, my cock likes it very much. It is my concentration that suffers.” He leans down over me and breathes against my mouth, in and out, in and out, until I’m beginning to squirm, whimpering for him to kiss me, touch me, anything—and then he shoves two fingers deep into my womanhood, ripping a scream from my throat. “I already ache for you every moment of the day, wife, but this…seeing your tits and pussy wrapped in red…you push my obsession over the edge.”

“Do I?” I breathe, knowing full well I do.

Using his teeth, he loosens my bikini top and drops it beside me on the pallet. “You know what you do to me. You tempt me until I can think of nothing but spreading your thighs. I will impregnate you again tonight. You will be carrying our next child by summer.” He hooks his fingers and jiggles them against that sensitive spot. The one that makes sparks shoot in front of my eyes and my nipples peak. “I do not care that mine are the only male eyes treated to such a feast. I am still jealous. I will remain desperate to claim you and this perfect, little cunt forever.”

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