Bounty

10. Jude

Chapter Ten

JUDE

“Tonight, I want you all to celebrate the bond of unity, family, and bounty,” I say as I close out my Christmas sermon. The natural acoustics of the room carry my voice so everyone at the gathering can hear it. “Our harvest these past two years surpassed the previous three years combined.”

The congregation at large thinks I’m strictly talking about the produce and livestock we manage on our gated fifty-acre compound, but those in the know are aware of the true harvest. They give meaningful looks to each other. The guns, ammunition, and other things we sell are the real money makers.

“I want to thank every one of you for your hard work and dedication to our family. Because without the love and support we get from each other, what do we really have?”

I pause, waiting for them to chime in an answer. When my father ran gatherings, he preferred silence from the crowd. He gave charged, motivating speeches that left them all awestruck. His way wasn’t wrong, but it’s not mine. I like to involve them, make them feel like a part of the community, as if they have a say.

They don’t have a say—-but letting them think they do is an important part of keeping this community thriving.

“Nothing,” several brothers and sisters say in unison.

“Together, forever,” I start our motto, the very creed we live by.

“We thrive!” they all rejoice. This marks the end of the gathering, a tradition I kept from my father’s ways.

I work the crowd with a carefully practiced smile on my face. Shaking hands and talking to people is tedious, but over the years, I learned how to appear approachable, even when the last thing I want to do is be around people. Where I want to be right now is in my office, with Wisteria Jean tied to the chair across my desk so she can’t walk away from me.

But duty called. The Christmas Gathering is one of the most important social events of the year. I can’t miss it. Even when all I wanted to do is spank that woman senseless for all the grief she causes me.

After she left dinner, the guys and I ate in silence until Cain exploded at me. Colin jumped to his defense, and they read me the riot act about how I treated her, both now and in the past. They made it clear that if we want her cooperation and for her to stick around afterwards, that I need to give her a reason to call this place home again—not be a complete asshole.

If anyone else dared to speak to me that way, they’d be bleeding out, running around the pig pen for their lives. Or strung up by their wrists in the drying shed. But Colin and Cain have been my best friends–my brothers–since I was a child. In all aspects of the farm, they’re my right hand men.

They’re not wrong, I do antagonize her. Because she infuriates me. I fell for her long before she became my stepsister. Then I had to sit idly by as she grew into the most beautiful, high spirited, stubborn woman to ever walk the Earth. I wanted to break her spirit, make her mine. Take her by the hair and bend her until she almost snapped.

I couldn’t, but Colin and Cain could. The jealousy and relief in that almost killed me. I didn’t want anyone else to have her, but I also knew that she’d eventually want someone…and Colin and Cain were the only two men I trusted her with. That I knew would respect her.

Being her protector behind closed doors was the only way I could have my prickly thistle, but that wasn’t enough. So I started picking at her. Antagonizing her. Pushing the sweet little girl everyone loved until she’d lash out at me. One time, she even slapped me. I cup my cheek, vividly remembering it like it was yesterday. The sting of her little hand, the bite of her screaming about how much she hated me. The way her lips felt on mine.

Now that I lead Harvest Farms, things can be different. My father may never get out of his coma, as his condition is touch and go. She isn’t my stepsister now–hasn’t been for a very long time. I have power and can claim her for myself.

I just have to get rid of The Skulls first.

A sickeningly pitchy voice breaks me from my thoughts.

“What a great sermon tonight, Jude,” Mandy Grant gushes. Her hand touches my bicep, even though my glacial glare is a clear sign to get away from me.

I remove her hand, and put some space between us. “As I said before, call me Father Jude, Mandy. And don’t touch me.” I barely get the last part out while still sounding somewhat nice.

Her nostrils flare, and she dons an indignant expression. The frown marring her face would look hilarious if it wasn’t directed at me.

“That’s not what you said when I was touching your cock, Father Jude ,” she huffs.

“That was a lapse in judgment. It’ll never happen again.”

I mentally castigate myself for ever letting this harpy touch me. It was a one-time thing almost a year ago, something I regretted immediately afterward. She wasn’t a good fuck, and she didn’t take my mind off Wisteria Jean.

No woman had ever taken my mind off of her. Like a weed, she established roots in the garden of my mind, rampantly spreading until she overran it. I tried so many times to lose myself in someone else, but never could. Mandy never got the message, apparently.

“It’s because of Wisteria Jean, isn’t it? Lou Lou told me she saw a woman that looked like her in the backseat of a car Cain and Colin were in, but she couldn’t possibly be her, right?”

I don’t want to deal with Mandy or the rumor mill right now. Hearing her talk about Wisteria like a returning plague will make me do something unbecoming, so I gather the last bit of calm I have before addressing her.

“If I hear you, or anyone else, talk about her, they’ll be punished at the next gathering. Spread the word, you nosey bitch. Remember that whatever happened between us is over. It won’t happen again, and any further attempts to fuck me again won’t end well for you,” I say in a low, threatening voice.

She stands there, opening and closing her mouth like a bass fish. A smile curls my lips. I walk away from her and finish my rounds before going back to the house.

I need to see Wisteria Jean, now. We have things to discuss.

The house is silent when I return. It’s late into the night now, but I figured someone may be awake at this hour. There’s no way Wisteria is still sleeping. I hang my coat in the closet and remove my shoes, then climb the stairs to change into something more comfortable. A suit isn’t approachable , especially when Wisteria is wearing lounge clothes.

I make a mental note to arrange for her to go shopping. She’ll need nicer clothes moving forward. After searching through my closet, I settle for gray sweatpants, a white henley, and a black cardigan and matching moccasins. That’s as approachable as I’ll get.

When I enter Cain’s room, Colin is sandwiched between Cain and Wisteria. Her tits spill over the blanket that only reaches her waist. His tattooed arms clutch onto her for dear life. Cain is in a hoodie and sweatpants, his sock-covered feet sticking out from the bottom of a different blanket.

The pangs of jealousy I’ve felt before are nothing compared to how I feel now. She hasn’t even been back in Colin’s life for a couple days, and she’s already forgiven him—gotten on her knees for him, let him inside her. They’re both back to being in her orbit, while she ices me out.

If I ever touched her again she’d make that slap from our childhood feel like a lover’s touch. Nothing ever has or will be easy for Wisteria and I.

I go to her side of the bed and nudge her shoulder until she wakes up. She scowls at me, then follows my gaze to her bare breasts and covers herself. Ripping the blanket away, I bend over so our faces are inches apart from each other.

“Get up, and put something decent on. Meet me in my office at the end of the downstairs hallway,” I demand in a whisper. Focusing will be impossible unless she dresses herself.

Maybe she can feel my anger raging inside me. Or maybe the look on my face is enough, but she gets out of the bed and starts to look for her clothes instead of arguing with me like she used to.

I’d never seen Wisteria completely naked before, even when she lived with me in my father’s home. I’d seen glimpses of her bare skin, or her in a bathing suit, but those pale in comparison. The sight of her bare body makes me salivate.

She walks around the room, searching for her hoodie and sweats. Her curves are ripe, perfect for squeezing. The globes of her ass are round, jiggling with every step she takes. Her nipped waist gives her an hourglass shape that would rival Marilyn Monroe’s.

My cock tents my sweatpants, and when she bends over to pick something off the floor, I see her perfect pink pussy peek out from between her thick thighs. I stifle a groan. Christ. There’s nothing safe about this woman’s body. She’s temptation personified, and eventually she’ll ruin me.

She sighs, holding up a hoodie torn down the center. “Do you know where my bag is?” she asks.

I motion for her to follow me, because I don’t trust myself to say anything when I’m this angry and horny. Her bag is still in the car, so I take her to my room. She hangs back by the open door, while I go toward my closet.

“Your bag is in the car, so you can wear something of mine.” Offering her my own clothes isn’t the olive branch it should be, but a completely selfish move.

I pick another pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt. When I hand them to her, she doesn’t reach out to take them. She doesn’t even look at me. Not because she’s subservient or meek. No, she’s neither of those things by a long shot. She’s avoiding me. I fucking hate that she tries to act like I’m not here.

“What’s wrong?” I snap, immediately regretting how frustrated I am. I shouldn’t take it out on her but I can’t help myself.

“I’m not comfortable wearing your clothes,” she says calmly. “I’d rather have my own.”

“It’s late and cold outside. You can wear this until someone grabs your bag in the morning.”

She bristles at the sound of my gruff, cutting voice, an annoyed look on her face. “I’m not wearing your clothes, Jude.”

“Well that’s what you’ll get.” I put them down on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed, then stare her down. I don’t know why I’m willing to fight her on this, but I want her in my clothes. I want some kind of claim on her now that there’s nothing standing in my way.

“Fuck you,” she spits, bypassing me and walking out of the room, in nothing but her birthday suit. I grab the clothes before following her.

She walks down the hall, the stairs, and then walks around the foyer, searching for something.

“What are you doing, Wisteria Jean?”

“Where are the keys?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have perfectly good clothes for you here,” I grit, trying to hold back my exasperation at her stubbornness.

“I’d rather sleep naked in the cold and freeze my tits off than wear your clothes. If you won’t give me your keys, I’ll bash the fucking window in.”

She unlocks the front door, then marches out into the cold toward the car. I catch up to her halfway there, and grab her elbow to turn her around.

“Stop being a spoiled little brat,” my breath clouds in front of my face, as does hers. Her breasts heave with the rise and fall of her chest, and her nipples are rock hard from the cold. “You’re walking around buck naked out here in the freezing cold!”

“Get off me!” she wrenches her arm free from my hold, continuing her path to the car. Her breath puffs in front of her face.

“Wisteria!” I shout. “Get back here!” Men tour the perimeter of the compound and I don’t want any of them seeing her exposed like this.

She’s only for our eyes.

She ignores me, and I’ve about had it with her. When she gets to the car, she bends over to pick up a rock from the ground. I grab her, swinging her around and shoving her against the door. My chest brushes against hers, and I can feel her shivering.

“If you so much as think about throwing that rock through the window, you’ll regret it, thistle,” I grunt, grabbing her wrist and taking the rock away from her. I throw it into the dark somewhere.

“I regret ever meeting you, Jude.” A tear slides down her cheek, and I hold her jaw, tipping it up so I can wipe the tear away with my thumb. “I wish you’d left me back in New York. You don’t even give a fuck about me.”

“Watch your mouth,” I warn her. I hate when she says shit like that, because it isn’t true.

“You’re a selfish, manipulative prick, and I feel sorry for you. You have no passion. No heart. You’re empty inside,” she screams at me.

I lower my hand down to her throat, feeling the goosebumps along her skin. Her pulse thrums, strong and steady. I collar her neck and squeeze slightly, so she can’t move.

“Let's get one thing straight, Wisteria Jean Flowers. I care about you, always have. More than any stepbrother should care about his little stepsister. I care about you so much it drives me fucking insane. When you left, I did the right thing and let you live a safe life. Being away from you made me want to tear the fucking world apart.”

She struggles against my hold and tries to escape, but I hold firm. She’s going to hear this whether she wants to or not.

“And now I want to tear myself apart because there’s nothing in the way of me showing you how I really feel, but I fucked everything up so badly that you’ll hate me for the rest of your life.”

She stands there, silently glaring at me. Then the corners of her mouth curl into a wicked cat-like smile.

“It’s what you deserve.”

Those four words make me snap. I turn her around, pushing between her shoulder blades until her breasts and stomach rest on the car.

“You’ve been gone for six years, thistle, so I’m going to do you a kindness and remind you of a few things.” I rub her ass cheeks with my hand, trying to warm up her cold skin. “I always get what I want.”

I spank her left cheek hard, the sound echoing through the silence of the night, then rub the red handprint I leave behind. She scoffs and huffs, her reaction not quite angry enough.

“I’m in charge here–I run this fucking farm and all the people on it.” Spank . “You’ve been mine ever since we were children, no matter how much you hated me or wished you’d never met me.”

I spank her right cheek three times in succession, to drive the point home. She gasps after each one, but stops struggling after the first. “And I know you feel the exact same way about me. I’ll do what I have to do to work through this with you, but you’re going to respect me in my own fucking home. Do I make myself clear?”

Her thighs rub together, and I see her arousal glisten over her pussy. She likes being spanked. Of course the most infuriating, perfect woman on Earth would love punishment, especially when all I want is to dole it out to her.

She’s quiet for a moment. Then she looks over her shoulder and says, “I don’t care that you’re a cult leader for a bunch of moronic assholes who aren’t smart enough to check the barn basements. Or that you think the sick, twisted feelings you have toward me are romantic. I’ll never feel anything but hate toward you, Jude. You tortured me my whole life, and I hope karma fucks you nice and hard.”

She must be desperate to get her hide tanned. That’s the only reason she’d push me like that. Her face is flushed and her lips are parted, her breath clouding in front of her face. Instead of spanking her again and giving her what she wants, I trail my hand down her ass to her soaked pussy. My fingers caress her folds, gathering her slick and circling her clit.

“You’re a liar. Why are you this wet for me if you don’t feel something toward me?”

I continue harder, faster, until she’s close to coming on my fingers. Then I plunge two fingers inside her and grind the heel of my hand against her swollen clit.

“I’ve always wanted you. I lurked in the shadows, protecting you from afar because that’s all I was allowed to do. But now there’s nothing to stop me from making you mine.”

She tries to hold her moans in, but I hit a spot deep inside her that makes her scream.

“Jude! Oh fuck. ” She sounds exactly like I thought she would in the throes of pleasure.

“That’s right, thistle, come for me. Obey me, baby,” I growl.

Her pussy strangles my fingers as she falls apart on them. I stroke her through her orgasm, then flip her over so we’re face to face, digging my fingertips into her soft flesh. I grab her face and kiss her. It’s not a slow or gentle kiss. It’s furious and rough, a clash of tongues and teeth. We greedily devour each other, Wisteria giving as much as she takes. Then she bites my bottom lip hard. I taste the coppery tang of blood, smiling to myself. I love that she likes it rough, because that’s the only way I know how to give.

We break free, and she peers up at me with her big, beautiful violet eyes.

“Jude–”

Gunshots ring out through the darkness. One lodges into the far car door, and I throw Wisteria Jean to the ground, shielding her with my body. I see the glint of a scope in the distance, but can’t make out exactly where the shooter is.

“Jude, what’s happening?!”

“Stay still, quiet,” I snap. “That’s not one of ours.”

Footsteps pound the dirt behind us as more shots ring out.

“Jude, it’s The Skulls. They breached the perimeter and are heading toward the northern barns,” Cain shouts as he crouches down next to us. “Colin gathered everyone and they’re mobilizing.”

“Wisteria, I need you to be calm,” I whisper in her ear. “We’re going to get up and go back to the house. I’ll cover you the whole time.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, let's stay here.”

We need to get her inside, where she’s safe, then meet the others. “Thistle, listen to me–it’s not safe here. We’re getting up in five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

I pull her up, and block her with my body as we run toward the house. Cain covers her from the front. The semi-automatic gunshots sound closer.

“Two hundred feet from the house,” he whispers. “We’re almost there, baby girl.”

I hear her sobs, then a single shot—it’s much too close. Pain slices through my shoulder, and hot liquid spreads down my arm. I stumble, falling into the bush by the front door.

“Fuck!” My arm is killing me, but the wound feels superficial.

Wisteria helps me up. We get back inside, and she bursts out crying.

“Jude,” she sobs. “Are you okay?” She rips my cardigan off, then Cain uses some scissors to cut my tee shirt off, putting pressure on the wound with it.

“Yeah, thistle, I’ll be okay. It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Doc is going to be here soon,” Cain announces. “I gotta help Colin, can Wisteria stay here with you?”

This will change our plan, but the cat is already out of the bag anyway. I doubt threatening Mandy did any good, so people probably already suspect she’s back.

“Yeah, go.” He leaves a gun on the coffee table before running out the door and locking it from the outside. I hold the shirt to my wound and continue to put pressure on it.

Wisteria paces, still naked, running her hand through her curly, messy hair.

“Stop, you’re going to wear a hole into the floor doing that. Go upstairs, calm down, and for fuck’s sake, woman, put some clothes on.”

She turns to me, tears streaming down her face. She opens her mouth to say something, then decides to go upstairs.

“After we’ve cleaned up and had some sleep, we have things to discuss,” I tell her when she’s halfway up the stairs.