Chapter 7 – Juliette
SEVEN
JULIETTE
Breaking news: I think Creed had his own plan.
Like. What. The. Fuck?
Since the morning after the sleepwalking incident, he spent every morning lingering in the kitchen, wearing his sweat pants and nothing else.
Now we did this thing where he made coffee and waited for me to wake up. I came downstairs at my usual time. He lingered for a second cup as we worked out what we wanted to accomplish that day and then he would try and kiss me!
Operative word: try.
First time he dipped his head toward me, I put my whole hand over his face.
Second time he tried it, I used a broom handle against his chest.
Third time, I pulled the collar of my shirt up over my nose so he ended up kissing me through cotton. Laughing as he walked out of the kitchen.
The fucker. It was like he was trying to turn us into this thing that we weren’t.
We weren’t a couple. I wasn’t any closer to thinking about having sex with him than I was on the day we got married.
And just because we now spent mornings together, ate dinner together, hung out and watched TV together, didn’t mean we were…together.
Although, even if in my head we weren’t any closer to being a couple, it also didn’t mean I was any closer to my great escape.
Because we were in it now. Planting season.
I was currently on the back of the tractor behind him. Standing on a ledge where the trailer was hooked to the plow behind me. Creed had finally gotten the engine running smoothly, and we were plowing fields to prepare them for planting.
The engine noise made talking almost pointless. I’d told him ear plugs would help, but he’d shaken me off, saying he needed to hear the sounds the engine was making so he could better service it.
I don’t know. Maybe he’d been some kind of boat engine savant in the Navy.
Then I remembered the night of his sleepwalking event.
Or maybe he’d been something else.
“You’re pulling right!” I shouted behind him.
From my position looking over his shoulder I had a better vantage point of the fields in front of us.
Also, I knew exactly where lines had been churned before.
The rows needed to be twenty to thirty inches apart, and I always leaned toward more rows than fewer, so I was keeping him on a more narrow trajectory.
“The fucking tractor drives like a tank!” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Yeah, because it’s a tractor! You need to own this bitch like an actual farmer and keep it straight!”
“You want to drive?”
Hell, no. Driving the tractor wasn’t any fun. All that dust and dirt kicking up in your face. He’d probably already swallowed at least a handful of bugs.
No, I was happy to stand behind him on the ledge behind the seat, his large, wide frame blocking the elements nicely. I also wore a kerchief over my face, an old ball cap on my head and goggles over my eyes so I could see clearly.
Did I tell him I had spares of all of it? I did not.
“You ready to quit?” I asked him. The pussy part was implied.
“Fuck that!”
I didn’t smile. Just kept tapping on his left shoulder any time I felt him pulling right.
It was strange, but this felt normal. Not that I spent time on the back of the tractor with Herb.
He’d been an old hand at making straight rows, but usually I trailed behind.
Moving larger rocks out of the way. Checking the PH balance of the soil.
Checking for insects or maggots. The smell of the diesel fuel filling my nostrils.
Just then a cold breeze pushed against us and the sudden drop in temperature was noticeable. I could see the goosebumps break out on his forearms in real time. I looked up and dark, looming clouds were rolling in fast. They were low, too. Which was never good.
“We’ve got to stop!” I shouted over the engine and the churning plow behind us.
“What?”
I tapped three times on each shoulder. “Stop the tractor!”
Whether he heard me or sensed my urgency he brought the tractor to a stop and let it idle in neutral.
“What?” he barked.
“We’ve got to get the tractor back to the barn,” I told him, and then pointed up.
“We stop for rain?”
I shook my head. “It’s not going to just rain. Let’s go.”
I hopped off the ledge to unhook the plow from the tractor. He’d move faster without it and the plow wouldn’t have a problem with the elements. It was nearly too heavy for me, but I had it up and dropped before Creed realized what was happening.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I turned to find him behind me.
“We’ve got to get the tractor inside the barn. We’ll go faster without the plow,” I told him. Then I was climbing up into the bench seat of the tractor and he was coming up next to me ready to shift it into gear again.
Thunder rumbled overhead and there it was again. That sudden drop of temperature.
“Is this because of lightening?” he asked, as he drove straight toward the barn.
I shook my head even as he drove it safely inside the structure. The question was, did we try to wait it out here or make a run for the house?
“How fast can you run?” I asked, over another clap of thunder. I was swinging closed one side of the barn door, while he got the other. Once together, he pulled the chain through the handles that would keep the doors secured.
In that second the skies opened up and rain started pouring down, but I knew this storm was going to be more than just rain.
Without another word, I started booking it back towards the house. It was less than fifty yards away but it felt longer while trying to run in my mucking boots. Creed came up alongside me, but he didn’t pass.
“Go on!” I shouted, because he didn’t know what was coming, but I did.
Spring storm. Low clouds. Sudden drop in temperature. It had all the signs of…
Then I felt it. The first crack of a ball of ice on my scalp.
Hail.
It started attacking any exposed skin I had. My scalp. The back of my neck. Stinging like a bunch of cold angry bees.
“Holy fuck!” I heard Creed shout.
It might have been funny if I hadn’t been in the thick of it with him. Right now, the chunks of ice hurt, but they weren’t golf ball sized, which could do some damage. Finally, the porch was in reach and as soon as we both got under it we could hear the cacophony of ice chunks hitting the roof.
We pushed inside the front door and Creed closed it behind us.
“It’s fucking freezing!” he barked.
He was right. We were both soaked through from the rain, which quickly turned into sleet, then finally, hail. I was pulling off my hat and goggles, pushing the kerchief down, while he already had his boots off, his jeans down around his feet and his t-shirt off.
But I quickly realized it was more than just his jeans.
His soggy boxer briefs had gone with them.
Standing in the foyer of MY HOUSE was this six foot plus, ripped specimen of a man, and he was… NAKED!
“What are you doing?!” I shouted, not knowing where to look, but not being able to unsee what I already saw, which was his big, swinging dick between his thighs.
“Preventing hypothermia,” he said casually, like him standing there naked was no big deal.
“It’s hail, you’re not going to freeze to death,” I snapped.
“It’s a dick, Jules. It’s not going to kill you either. You’re my wife. This shouldn’t be a big deal.”
I didn’t want to get too close to him, but I got close enough to punch him in the side of his arm as hard as I could. Then I immediately turned away so my back was to him.
“It is a big deal!”
“Because you’re a virgin?”
“Of course I’m a virgin!” I shouted. “Now, do something. Go to your room! Cover your junk!”
I expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. Just collected his clothes from the floor of the foyer and walked away.
I bolted for the stairs leading up to my room and slammed the door shut with all the force I could.
Then I did what I’d done every day since Herb’s funeral, since I’d been able to move the lock to the other side of the door, and bolted myself in.
The lock was nothing against his size, strength, and whatever abilities he had to unlock something that was locked, but it gave me an inch of protection and a mile of space from him.
The cold started to seep into my skin from my own soaked clothes.
I pulled off my overalls, stepped out of them, and took off my panties and the long sleeved shirt I’d worn.
I took off my bra and when I looked down my nipples were hard, little, brown buds.
Darker than I remembered against the white skin of my breasts.
Every inch of my body was covered in goosebumps and I realized I might have done better making my escape to the bathroom where I could take a hot shower and have access to a towel.
That’s when I heard the water turn on downstairs.
Oh, no. That motherfucker wasn’t going to use all the hot water before I had a chance to.
Without thinking it through, I ran to my door and undid the lock.
It would be a straight shot to the bathroom across the landing.
It took a few minutes for the water to heat up, so I had time to basically race him for whatever water was in the hot water tank.
But as soon as I stepped outside my bedroom door I realized my mistake.
He was on the stairs. A towel in his hand. Faded green. I didn’t know why the color registered, but it did.
He was still naked except for the chain around his neck.
Only now I was, too.
Like a rabbit confronting its predator, I froze.
Our eyes locked for a second. In that moment I tried to see me as he saw me. Strands of wet hair coming loose from my ponytail were plastered against my face. I was pale skinned after a long Montana winter, covered in goosebumps and shaking.
Definitely not how I wanted a man to see me naked for the first time.
He looked down my body once, then shook his head in a small, tight motion, which would probably cause me insecurity issues down the road. Then he dropped the towel on the top step, turned, and walked back downstairs.
His ass was just there. Muscled. Tight. Defined.
It was how I imagined assess were meant to look, and, strangely, I didn’t feel as cold as I had a second ago.
Shaking myself out of it, I snatched the towel off the step, used it to cover myself and made a beeline for the bathroom. Again locking myself inside, as if it would make any difference. The water eventually ran hot and there was enough of it to warm me thoroughly.
All I could think about, once I was back in my room dressed in my flannel PJ bottoms, heavy socks and a Riverbend hoodie, brushing out my wet hair, was that dinner was going to be awwwkwaaard.
“Did you do that on purpose?” I asked him, as soon as I sat down at the kitchen table.
It was his turn to cook, which probably meant pasta because that was his go to, but I liked spaghetti as much as the next person, so I didn’t mind.
He put the bowl of pasta, sauce, and ground beef mixed together in the center of the table and then set down his version of a salad, which was lettuce and dressing. Sometimes he added cheese.
He sat down and started serving himself. “Did I do what on purpose?”
“The whole getting naked thing. Then seeing me naked.”
He glanced up at me with a smirk. “Yeah, I timed you running out of your bedroom naked while I was dropping off a clean towel for you down to the second.”
“Wanting a hot shower was a likely outcome after being caught in a hail storm.”
He dismissed my conspiracy theory with a grunt. “How were you so certain it was going to hail?”
“Experience,” I said, and filled my plate with spaghetti and meat sauce. “And don’t change the subject. Is this some kind of ploy on your part? Like immersion therapy? Where you just get me used to seeing your junk and then trick me into sex?”
His fork clattered against his plate and it was clear I’d pissed him off.
“I’m not going to trick you into sex. Geezus. Do even know anything about it?”
“I know I’m not going to have it with you,” I said, with all the snark I could muster.
He clearly swallowed a retort, then I watched his face change as he took another angle. “Seriously, did your dad tell you anything?”
“Uh, yeah. That if I was a slut like my mother and opened my legs, I’d get knocked up. I never knew if he called my mom a slut for opening her legs for him and getting knocked up with me? Or did she cheat on him before she left him? Hard to know.”
Creed looked even angrier. “I’m not plotting shit. Unlike you, I’m not fucking devious like that. When I’m soaked to the skin and freezing cold, I’m going to strip where I damn well want to in my house-”
“My house,” I corrected him.
He picked up his fork and started eating again. “I’ve been straight with you from the start. You’re my wife. Eventually, we’re going to fuck. Now I know for sure you’re a virgin, we’ll try to take it…even slower. If that’s fucking possible.”
“But you’re not going to force me,” I said, making sure that point was clear.
“Not going to need to. When you got in the shower, after seeing my dick, did you touch yourself?”
“No!” I shouted. I’d wanted to, but I didn’t.
“I did,” he admitted, shamelessly. “I was hard as fuck seeing your cold little titties. I had to stroke one out fast, too, before the water ran cold for either of us. I might have set a record.”
“Okay, I’m fucking eating here,” I said, pushing my plate away as if the very idea of him masturbating was as disgusting as farting in my face.
He smiled and continued his meal unperturbed.
“It’s never going to happen,” I said, between gritted teeth. If I had control over nothing else, I had control over that.
“Yeah, baby, it is,” he said, calmly. “You know the first time hurts, right? I know your father taught you shit, but I also know you’re not stupid. You would have done your research on this like you do everything else. I have a big cock and the first time I fuck you with it, it’s gonna hurt.”
“Ooh, please tell me more,” I said, in my best Disney princess voice. “Will there be blood and scarring? Sounds delightful.”
He frowned, undeterred. “It will get better after that. You need to trust me. A year from now, you’ll be begging me for it.”
It was like he was walking me through my first time getting a shot. All the while shoveling spaghetti in his face.
Cold. Clinical. Nothing but the facts.
It only brought the thought home further. I needed to get out of here. Sooner rather than later.
Because, what if he was right?