Page 43 of Misrule
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He released her, lifted himself up and braced on his forearm to look at her. His look tender, he thumbed away tears from her cheeks. “If you ain’t sleepin’, I ain’t sleepin’. That shit simple, so don’t fuckin’ apologize. We in this shit together.”
She nodded, grateful to be alive, thankful for the beautiful man who was her husband.
“Neither of us motherfuckers ain’t understandin’ that you fine. You alive. I just keep dreamin’ I get to you too fuckin’ late and you keep fuckin’ dreamin’ almost the same shit.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on. Things have happened to me before.”
“Yeah, baby. I guess you just fuckin’ outta practice. Shit been goin’ fuckin’ good, so ain’t no motherfuckers been tryna fuck you up.”
“I’m out of practice to be harmed?” she asked, to be sure she’d heard him right.
“Fuck, yeah. My ass outta practice for havin’ you fucked up.”
“That sounds a little—”
“Fuckin’ psycho?”
She giggled. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
He grinned at her. “Ain’t nothin’ but a thing, baby.” Rolling onto her, he nuzzled her nose with his own. “We gonna get through this, Megan,” he promised on a rough whisper. “It ain’t a good three fuckin’ months since we fuckin’ found you. Ain’t no wonder that we both trauma-fuckin-tized.”
“We’d reached such a happy place.”
“Life what the fuck we make it. We gonna make it a happy fuckin’ place again. We just gotta fuckin’ work through you bein’ snatched the fuck up in broad fuckin’ daylight when we wasn’t at war with nobody. That shit right there e-fuckin-nuff to fuck with any-fuckin-body.”
Her lips trembled.
“Don’t cry,” he said, low and sexy, brushing his mouth over hers. “I ain’t able to pro-fuckin-tect you from what the fuck goin’ on in your fuckin’ head, in your fuckin’ dreams, but I gotcha back in every-fuckin-thing else.”
“I’m so angry with Mystic. And-and afraid.” She thumbed his mouth. “And-and ashamed that I’m so affected.”
“I shot the fuck outta that motherfucker and my ass still fuckin’ furious with Mystic. I wish I coulda brought him the fuck back to fuckin’ life and killed him five, ten more fuckin’ times. I ain’t even able to chop the motherfucker the fuck up cuz of your fuckin’ ball.”
Caressing his jaw, she gave him a gentle smile. “It’s okay. You saved me.”
“No, it ain’t okay. Motherfucker hurt my fuckin’ soul when he snatched you. And, yeah, my ass scared like a motherfucker something else gonna happen to you. More than fuckin’ that, Megan, I’m shame, too. You trust me to protect you. You trust me to protect our boy.”
“Stop that,” she ordered. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You—”
He put a finger over her lips. “Ain’t sayin’ that for you to comfort my ass. You had the motherfuckin’ nightmare, not me. I just wanna let you know that my ass angry, afraid, and ashamed, too, and that shit pissin’ me the fuck off so fuckin’ much.”
“We’re quite the pair.”
“Yeah. Mr. and Mrs. Fuckin’ Pussified Motherfuckers.”
They met each other’s gazes and broke into laughter.
Christopher stole another kiss. “Megan, baby,” he croaked. “You my fuckin’ world. You the air that keep my breathin’. You my fuckin’ everything and I ain’t ever gonna get tired of sayin’ that to you. If I…” His voice trailed off and he swallowed. “If you woulda been…gone…” He paused. “I told my-fuckin-self you woulda fuckin’ know how fuckin’ much I love you cuz I tell you all the fuckin’ time.”
“If I would’ve been, er,gone, when you found me, I would’ve departed having no regrets about my life with you, except that it ended too soon. It is an honor and a privilege to be your wife and the mother of your children. I would’ve left knowing I am well-loved and knowing I let you know how much I adore you.”
They fell silent, staring at one another, drinking in their closeness, their love, and their friendship.
Ever so slowly, Meggie opened her legs, offering her husband a cradle between her thighs.
He turned onto his back, grabbed her hand, and tugged her toward him. “Fuck my mouth.”
