Asher is always going to sleepovers with his cousins. Amelia and Hawk’s cabin is only a mile away, and our kids hang out all the time, either here or at their place. They’re more like siblings than cousins.
My sister met her lumberjack husband shortly after Gunnar and I got together. In a crazy twist of fate, she found love with the same neighbor who saved Gunnar’s life when that tree almost killed him. Hawk’s a good guy, and I owe him so much. Without him, my husband probably wouldn’t be here. Heck, I never would have met him in the first place, and meeting Gunnar is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Our little family is everything.
“Ready to go, princess?” Gunnar asks a little while later, once I’ve taken a quick shower and pulled on some fresh clothes.
“Yes.” I turn to Asher and open his little green backpack, double-checking he’s got everything. Then we head out the front door, and I take my husband’s hand, holding my son’s in the other as we walk the familiar, well-trodden path to Hawk and Amelia’s cabin.
It’s approachingdusk when Gunnar and I begin the walk home, and the forest is gradually turning to shadow. His arm tightens around my waist, and we chat about our days. I tell him about the mountain lion I saw on the camera trap. He tells me about the bear tracks he found near Lover’s Lake. But I can tell there’s something else on his mind.
“I’ve been thinking about Asher,” he says eventually. “He said something to me earlier about wishing he had a brother or sister. Think he’s jealous of Hawk and Amelia’s kids.”
My sister has a big brood—three kids with a fourth on the way.
“What do you think, princess?” Gunnar continues. “Is it time?”
We’ve talked a lot about having another baby. I didn’t want to rush into it after Asher was born, but now that he’s getting older, it feels right. He’d absolutely love to be a big brother, and growing our family would bring us all so much happiness.
“I think it’s time,” I say, smiling up at Gunnar. “Let’s have another baby.”
He makes a noise in his throat, pulling me tight against his side. “I was hoping you’d say that, beautiful.” Then he stops walking, holding me still. “How about we start trying right now?”
His low voice makes me shudder, and as I tilt my head to look at him, I’m hit by the fierce lust in his eyes. The feral glint that makes me throb with anticipation.
“I’d like that,” I say, trailing a hand down the buttons of his flannel shirt. “But only if you can catch me first.”
I spring away from him and start to run, zigzagging through the trees. Gunnar’s heavy footsteps follow close behind. It’s a game I like to play with my husband—a race that I always lose. I’m a good runner, fast, but nothing can compete with Gunnar’s long legs. He hunts me like a predator chasing its prey, and I don’t make it far. I never do.
I hear him behind me, his ragged breathing. Then his powerful arms snare me in his grip, and he pushes me to the ground with a growl.
“Think you can run from me, princess?” He’s already tugging at my pants, pulling them down before I can catch my breath. “Never. I’ll always catch you.”
This is my favorite game to lose.
I love what it does to Gunnar. It turns him feral, awakens something in him that fills me with need. He tears our clothes off with urgent hands and wraps his shirt around my wrists, tying them together.
“This is what you get for trying to run.”
I whimper as he kicks off his boxers, his thick cock springing free. So big. Bulging with veins, dribbling with pre-cum. He’s always ready to claim me. Heck, he still can’t keep his hands off me after all this time. My body has changed since having Asher—my curves are plumper, my belly bigger. But my husband seems to want me more than ever, taking me every chance he gets.
Not that I’m complaining.
Gunnar grabs my legs and bends my knees to my chest, folding me beneath him. My pussy is completely exposed, my hands bound, and all I can do is watch as my husband bears down, driving his cock into me.
“Oh, Gunnar…”
I gasp as he draws back before slamming into me again, stretching me open around his giant shaft.
“Who do you belong to, princess?”
“Y-you.”
The answer doesn’t save me. He starts to snap his hips in a brutal rhythm, pounding me wildly against the forest floor. I’m pinned in place, unable to move—to do anything but take everything he gives me. In the dying sunlight, his eyes burn into me, so intense that I squeeze mine shut.
“Look. At. Me.” He punctuates each word with a punishing thrust, and I open my eyes, quivering all over. “That’s it, princess. Keep those pretty eyes on me when I fuck you.”
I whimper in response, my toes curling at the friction inside me. His invading cock drags against every sensitive spot, my walls tugging at him, coating him in cream as our bodies slap together.
“You like that?” he growls as a choked moan escapes my throat. “You like being stuffed full of your husband’s cock?”
