Axes & O’s

6. Morgan

Chapter 6

Morgan

“He’s going to try to leave,” Fox rasps.

I expel a breath. “I told you he’d wake up.”

“You also told me you’d be quiet if I took your gag out.” He chuckles against the shell of my ear. “It’s not my fault you can’t follow directions.”

That has me smirking. “Yeah, but I’m not the one who left the door cracked open.”

I can’t see Fox’s face from this position, which irks me because I want to study him, try to figure out why he left the door open. I think he wanted our rescue pup to hear us, to come find us. I think he wanted to know what he would do. If he would—

No, I can’t think about that right now. I swallow against the pain of past rejection that springs in my throat, threatening to choke me.

Fox exhales then swiftly extricates himself from me, softening cock and the mess of us exiting my body. I close my eyes for a moment, allowing the adrenaline from the night and our playtime to melt away and the pleasure of my orgasm to ground me.

My peaceful moment only lasts for a second before Fox is gently rolling me onto my back. My tired body protests. It’s been a long night, and all it wants to do is curl up in bed and fall asleep with Fox’s steady heartbeat in my ear. But we have a man we rescued in our home who’s probably going to try to leave during the worst winter storm I’ve seen in years, maybe ever. Which won’t end well for him.

One of Fox’s inked fingers smooths out the furrow in my brow.

“Did I go too hard on you?” he asks with a sly smile on his lips and a glimmer of sadism in his blue eyes.

“You could’ve gone harder.”

He chuckles, moving from his kneeling position to lay his heavy body over mine, pressing me into the mattress. I groan when I feel his length hardening against my belly. If we were alone, I’d let him take me again, not caring that my vagina would probably cry mercy. Yet knowing my husband, he’d use my mouth or my ass—and I’d allow it. Especially since our little Christmas tradition got derailed.

The sound of something falling over has our heads turning toward the source of the noise: the man in our second bedroom.

“We need to stop him before he hurts himself.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Fox replies.

I huff. I love my husband, but sometimes, he’s an idiot. “Be nice.”

“I am nice. I carried him back here, didn’t I?”

He did, and despite his attitude now, I know he cares for that stranger’s life. Fox likes to pretend he’s a big ole grump who doesn’t care about people, but he’s one of the kindest and most caring people I know. He’s had a hard life, so I understand his desire to protect himself, to protect his heart and me. Which is why I’m even more curious as to why he left the door cracked. He could have easily locked it, preventing our house guest from watching us fuck. And watch, he did.

“Let me up. We have another few minutes before we end up chasing him through the snow.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

I roll my eyes. “Get off me, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am. ”

That earns him a punch to the shoulder, and he grunts playfully before relenting and letting me up. I can feel his lazy gaze on me as I stand, his release spilling down my leg. I smile to myself, the depraved part of my soul enjoying that I’ll be convincing our stranger to stay while my husband’s spend drips from me. I know Fox likes it, too, enough that it will drive him so crazy he’ll fuck me into the mattress again when we get back to bed.

Heavy footsteps moving down the hallway make me pick up speed, and I grab a red silk robe and a simple pair of cotton underwear. I take a couple of tissues from the oak dresser and wipe my thighs and legs then slip on my clothes. Fox has gotten off the bed, too, his long hair now tied in a bun and a pair of briefs on his legs.

I throw him a shirt, and Fox balks at it, but this guy we saved is going to be skittish. And despite the fact that he walked off when he found out I saw him watching, I noted the way he was looking at Fox. The way he was looking at us. It’s better if we at least have most of our bodies covered.

Once I’m dressed, I exit the bedroom with Fox on my heels. My long legs eat up the ground, and I expect to find our new friend halfway out the door. Instead, he’s sitting at the kitchen table Fox made by hand for me bundled in his winter coat and an old pair of flannel pants he found, ones I didn’t know were still in that room. I push down the emotion that came up earlier and try to make my features as normal and welcoming as possible. For a split second, I debate what to say, then I go with the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hi.”

The man snaps his head up at the same time Fox stands beside me. Our guest’s dark-brown eyes move from mine to my husband’s, and his cheeks turn a ruddy red color—I should’ve told Fox to stay behind. He’s a very large man, tattooed from head to toe and scary as hell. I think our guest finds him attractive—at least, that’s the impression I got. Not to mention, said guest also just witnessed us having rough sex and probably saw Fox’s favorite new toy near the fireplace. I flush a little but not with embarrassment—with arousal.

“We’re snowed in,” he says, his tone matter of fact, yet the warm timbre of his voice turns my nipples to peaks and sends a shiver racing up my spine.

Fox moves, and I don’t miss the way the man at our table jumps as if he thinks my husband is going to lunge for his throat like a fox capturing his prey.

“He’s just checking,” I say, trying to calm him.

“I’m not lying,” the man retorts.

My lips tip up in a gentle smile. “He doesn’t think that. He just wants to see for himself what kind of weather we’re dealing with.”

Fox opens our front door, the muscles of his broad shoulders bunching beneath his navy Henley. Shit, the white wall he reveals looks like the snow I’ve seen in movies about snow days—it’s piled almost the entire height of the door. Some of it falls in, and cold wind along with snowflakes whip through the space left open at the top.

“I told you,” the stranger snarks.

I ignore his comment and cross my arms over my chest as Fox closes the door. My husband turns toward me, and unsurprisingly, he doesn’t look worried, but his face is hard. That’s the way he looks when he’s about to talk about a new reforestation operation or a seasonal harvest. He’s got his chest puffed out, and the moment his bearded jaw clenches, I know he’s about to go into military mode and begin barking out commands.

I hold up my hand before he can speak. “The generator is working fine, and you know we’re prepared. Let’s sit and talk to our guest.”

Fox’s mouth presses into a hard line, and I know he wants to argue, to shovel snow or whatever else he wants to do to keep me safe, but he also knows I’m right. The man we saved needs the gaps in his night filled in. And while Fox probably enjoys watching him squirm to a certain extent, if their positions were reversed, I know my husband would’ve dug his way out of here until he either made it back to his car or froze to death.

“I’ll make us some coffee,” he grunts, walking behind our guest to the kitchen area.

I nod and take a seat across from the man who’s back to fiddling with his keys.

“Do you have my phone?” His brown eyes meet mine, and my stomach twists. By the light above us, I can see the worry etched in them. In the whirlwind of rescuing him in the storm, I didn’t even stop to think he might’ve been heading to someone and that they’re probably worried for him.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t see one. We were concerned for your life, so I turned off your car and grabbed your keys.”

“I need to reach my sister, let her know I’m not dead.”

“Does she live in Starlight Haven?”

He tips his chin, pushing some of his tousled brown hair from his forehead. “Yes. About thirty minutes north of the town center.”

“Unfortunately, even without the storm, we have shoddy reception, and right now, none at all. The power and internet are also out, and we’ve got the generator going. But I can have Fox radio the sheriff, and they can get word to her. We have to let them know about your car, anyway, and that you’re safe, but we were going to wait till a decent hour.” I look at the Scandinavian-style clock on the wall and see that it’s already approaching four in the morning. I guess that’s decent enough.

When my eyes connect with his, he’s looking at me funny, confusion riddling his handsome features. “Radio?” he asks.

“We’re used to remote life up here. Sometimes old-school works best.” I could explain to him that the ham radio comes in handy with the type of work we do, especially when we’re on jobs in the middle of nowhere. We usually have a satellite phone, but we were in the process of getting a new one. Neither of us expected the weather would get this bad.

“Please, can you radio the sheriff now?” His voice is so pained, it stabs at my heart. I feel bad about how he found us and wish we had closed the door. In the heat of the moment, it was a little thrilling, but this poor man is scared—and I know I would be, too.

I reach out to try to comfort him, but Fox steps up to the table before I can touch him and plunks down two mugs full of steaming coffee. The man jumps a bit at the motion, but then I watch with curiosity as he looks up at Fox, his cheeks flushing pink again. Interesting .

Fox doesn’t smile at him or say anything; he just turns and walks back to the kitchen, opening a drawer we use for junk. He pulls out a pen and paper I forgot was even in there then comes back and puts it down in front of our guest.

“Give me her name, address, and phone number, and I’ll do it.”

The man quickly takes the offered pen and paper and writes it down. When he hands it back to Fox, I notice that my husband purposely brushes his fingers over the man’s.

“T-thanks.” He trips over the word, his voice an octave higher than it was before. I don’t miss the way Fox’s lip twitches from his reaction this time. I want to ask my husband what he’s doing, but I think I know. However, I’m not sure why.

“And your name?” Fox asks.

“Nathan. Nathan Clark.”

Fox turns his gaze to me. “Will you be okay while I go do this?”

I nod. Fox knows I can handle myself, but he’s a protective guy. The man I now know as Nathan looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly even though he’s packing muscles under that winter coat of his. Muscles I had no choice but to see when I was getting him warm again .

“I’ll be right back.” Fox shoots a menacing glare toward Nathan that tells him not to try anything, and I internally roll my eyes. He also kisses my forehead before walking toward the third bedroom that we’ve made into an office.

When I hear the door click closed, my gaze falls back to Nathan, and I pull my cup of coffee toward me. It’s time to get to know our guest.