Page 165 of Hell Hath No Fury
I open the van door to be greeted with my wife’s smell of coconut and steam. All thoughts of Benny vanish. His fate is for another day.
Reaching into the top cabinet, I bring out a bottle of Jack and crack the seal. She exits the van’s small bathroom wearing a short white robe, her hair piled on top of her head.
“How was the shower?”
“Fine.” She puts her hands on her hips.
I grin at her and take a big guzzle. “So, we have two choices.” I hand her the bottle. She looks at it and takes a small sip.
She puffs out her breath and I pull her into my arms. Her eyes water from the bite of the bourbon.
“What are they?” She hands me back the bottle. I set it on the counter, and in an instant, my tongue goes to her neck.
“One. We fuck all day and camp,” I growl in her ear, sensing her shiver beside me.
“And two?”
“Two. We fuck all day, drive back to LAX, and fly to Hawaii. We’re fucking on the beach drinking margaritas by tomorrow afternoon.”
Her eyes bolt up to mine as she reaches for the bottle taking a second dainty sip.
“Hmmm, tough one.” She tilts her head like she’s trying to weigh her choices. I burst out laughing and kiss her so deep and hard her cheeks are flush again.
“Choose, Angel. One or two?” I’m already lifting her onto the tiny counter and opening her robe.
“Well… I do like camping…”
“Two it is after I fuck you in the woods. We aren’t leaving until that happens.”
“It’s freezing.” She wraps her legs around my waist so that I can’t get away even if I wanted to, which I never will.
“I love you, Jason,” she whispers as the robe slides from her creamy shoulders and pools around her waist.
I help her down and swing open the van door. “I love you more.” I take her hand and place it over my scar. She stares at me as her eyes fill with tears and her fingers trace my old bullet wound.
She sniffs and looks up at me. “That’s not possible.”
“No more talking.” I lift her off her feet and out into the descending light.
THE END
