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Some people saytime passed by quickly when you were waiting for someone to finally come home.

I would say those people were full of shit.

Because five years without my husband was hell. The Jacksons did their best to keep me busy, but not much could keep me from wondering how my husband was.

Was he suffering? Was he okay? Was his life still in danger?

I’d been kept in the dark about him for five years. Under his request, I was not to know anything about him except for the fact that he was alive. I didn’t know if he got hurt. I didn’t know when he had court dates.

I didn’t know shit.

All I knew was that he was alive.

That was it.

Not a damn thing else.

And I fucking hated it.

And then, to make matters worse, right before I was out of my first trimester with our baby, I had miscarried.

That night when I discovered what was happening, I screamed and cried. I screamed at James, swearing up and down I hated him. I screamed at Darren for not going with Jaxon to better protect him. I screamed at Adrian for allowing James to let this happen.

Emmaline had stayed with me for days, trying to get me to eat, forcing me out of bed. Even Juliana stepped in to help, and she wasn’t much for involving herself in someone else’s problems.

Losing our baby had killed a piece of me that I wasn’t sure I would ever get back.

The doctor said my PCOS was still too bad to have children, and that if I were to get pregnant again, I may just miscarry again.

PCOS was a right bitch. It made me lose the one piece I had of my husband.

And it made me hate myself even more because I couldn’t even hold on to that one, little thing.

When I lost my baby, my family stopped speaking to me and focused on getting my sister married. A baby was needed in their family, and well, I was fucking useless in that department. Not only did I have PCOS, but my husband was in prison.

To my family, I was only good for what my body could offer, which was absolutely fucking nothing.

Now, I was just a bitter prison wife who was a shell of the woman her husband had made her into.

Now?

Now, I was fucking nothing.

* * *

A hush fell over the dining room suddenly during dinner that night. I frowned and looked around, wondering what in the hell was going on. Nothing ever silenced everyone here so completely. Chatter always filled this room, even if someone got murdered, like when Jaxon had slit that man’s throat for talking shit about me.

I was really beginning to think everyone had lost their fucking minds. I had no idea what was keeping everyone so silent.

Then, my eyes met his.

My fork clattered from my hand onto the tile at my feet with a loud ping.

“Jaxon?” I whispered, unable to believe my eyes.

Was he really here?

He had gotten so much bulkier while he was inside. His shirt barely fit him anymore, and I loved it. My ovaries felt like they were about to explode.

My husband didn’t say a word. He just strode over to the table, threw me over his shoulder, and strode out of the room again. “Jaxon, what the fuck?” I demanded. I smacked his back. “Put me down! What are you doing?! You’re not a caveman!”

What in the hell had gotten into my husband?! Don’t get me wrong; I was fucking ecstatic that he was back home with me again, but what in the hell was he doing?

He didn’t stop moving until we were in our room, and he deposited me on the bed. His lips hungrily met mine, and that was it.

I was lost. The fight inside of me died. That part of me that had belonged to him burned back to life, a fire coursing through my fucking veins at the feel of my husband touching me again.

“You’re home,” I whispered when our lips parted.

He began stripping me of my clothes. “I’m home, bunny, and I’m never leaving your fucking side again,” he swore.

With that, we finished stripping each other. He slid home inside of me and rocked our bodies together, making love to me, apologizing over and over for leaving me and for keeping me in the dark about him for five years.

And when I came for the fourth time, he flipped me onto my stomach and took me like Jaxon always had.

Hard.

Brutal.

He fucked me, screwing into my cunt over and over, taking whatever he wanted from me.

But was it really taking when I was freely giving it all over to him?

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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