by Regina Wade
“No, I think they’re fine,” I say.
“Eh, them? Six out of ten.” He ponders for a moment, his own binoculars still glued to his eyes. “Ooh, but it just went from PG-13 to R. You’re missing out, doll.”
The entire morning has been wasted on the roof of Miles’ building with two pairs of binoculars, finding interesting things to look at. Our definitions of points of interest, it turns out, are incredibly different.
“Miles, we really need to be noting down vantage points and the locations of things we might need. Drug stores, groceries, that sort of thing.” I say for the third time in half an hour.
“Dahlia, listen. We can do that tomorrow. But if we don’t take care of our mental health, we’ll go insane long before we get sick and die.” He scans the horizon, apparently done with the peepshow across the street.
“Plus, we said hi to our neighbors. That was on your list, right?” His teeth flash in the midday sun, an impossible white that belongs in a toothpaste ad.
“The term I used was ‘establish communication with other survivors’. You know, allies we can band with in case of any hostile forces. Writing “Wassup?” on a piece of cardboard doesn’t really count.”
Miles lets the binoculars drop to hang around his neck. I don’t let my eyes follow the motion, because that would mean looking at his glistening pecs. He never did put a shirt on, much to my chagrin. And delight.
His hands reach out, grasping me by the shoulders and bending down to look me in the eye. Miles is so freakin’ tall that he’s almost bent in half to put his gorgeous green eyes level with my own.
“Trust me, if anything hostile comes our way, I’ll take care of it. You have my word.” He’s utterly serious in the moment, all of the levity draining away from his face. He’s my knight in shining armor once again, the one I fell for instantly.
Then the smirk is back, and he winks.
“Now come on, I bet if we look hard enough we can find a couple of hotties screwing.”
I groan in frustration, pinching the bridge of my nose. If Miles wasn’t so goddamn hot I would be tempted to push him off this roof.
The sky's the pale purple of twilight before we finally give up, unable to make out anything else in the fading daylight.
“Now come on, you have to admit that you’re feeling a little bit better.” Miles smiles at me as he works at the fire in front of me. I’m sitting on an old sofa Miles dragged up from somewhere in the building, a sheet stretched around me like a lean-to cabana canopy.
“I’ll be better once we warm up a bit. It’s still cold at night.” I shiver, rubbing my hands up and down my bare arms.
“Really? I didn't notice.” Captain Shirtless is still half-naked. It’s difficult not to stare at the perfectly sculpted muscles of his chest, but my cheeks are no longer hot to the touch.
“I think I might be getting frostbite. How’s that fire coming, hotshot?” I have to admit that Miles is better than me at some things, even if his priorities are entirely out of whack.
“It’ll be a merry bonfire in no time, but you have to have a little patience with something so dangerous, doll.” Miles is alternating between poking the fire and blowing on the small embers glowing inside. I
alternate between poking him and praising him.
“Better hurry up before I freeze my butt off,” I grumble.
“Aww, don’t worry. I’ll keep it warm for you.” He answers, a boyish grin lighting up his face.
“In your dreams, big man.” I roll my eyes but can’t keep the smile off my face.
Earlier, Miles had pointed out a family of nesting birds two buildings down. We’d watched them together in total silence for a while. He’d taken my hand in his — no words, no pressure, just a simple gesture. It was sweet in a way that someone who looked like walking sex had no business being.
Now my heart and my lady parts were voting together on the subject of Miles. Rationally, I knew he was trouble with a capital T. One of the basic tenets of survival in this scenario is that you can’t let feelings get involved.
This quarantine was turning out to be a lot harder than I’d thought it would be.
“So, is this where you take all your dates?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Just the pretty ones like you.” He responds, without missing a beat.
Damn his smooth-talking ass. The worst part is, it’s working. Miles leaves the fire to slowly blaze up, apparently satisfied with his handiwork and plops himself down beside me on our makeshift sofa.
His arm is around my shoulders before I know it, pulling me in close. He smells so good — woodsmoke and clean sweat and healthy male. It’s intoxicating, giving my body yet more ammunition against my mind.
“There. You’re not cold anymore, are you?” He says, pulling a blanket around us. His tanned skin is still warm from the sun, and I can’t help but rub myself against him, drinking in his warmth.
“My lips are still cold,” I whisper against him.
Miles tips my chin up, his eyes absent of any trace amount of humor or teasing. His eyes burn bottle green in the reflected firelight, mesmerizing up close.
“I better fix that, then.” He murmurs against me, our faces an inch apart.
Nodding, I lean into him. His lips press against mine softly, delicately. Not hesitant, but gentle with me. I slide one hand across his stomach, marveling at the feeling of his hard abs. Suddenly I can’t get enough of him, my hands moving across all of his skin.
Miles pulls me into his lap, straddling him, our lips locked together. His fingers play with the hem of my top, brushing at the exposed skin of my midriff. Just that light brush is enough to make me moan against him.
He pulls me down hard, my butt pressing down against his lap. Instinctively, I grind against him, my eyes going wide as I pull back in shock. Jeez, Miles is big all over. My mouth is suddenly not the wettest part of me.
“Miles? I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything you want, Dahlia.” His low growls end a ripple of pleasure careening through me, bolstering my courage.
“I’m tired of being a virgin,” I whisper against his ear. I have no idea if it’s sexy or not, but it works for Miles. I can feel him beneath me, throbbing in time to his racing pulse.
6
Miles
Dahlia is so incredibly hot that I almost lose control. My hands dig into her delicious ass cheeks, sliding up beneath her shorts. My mouth finds hers again and again, trailing kissing down one side of her neck and back up the other.
It’s the most difficult thing in my life, controlling myself. I want nothing more than to rip off her clothes and plunge my aching cock inside her. But I’m resolved to do this right with Dahlia. She’s different. She’s special.
I might be falling for her.
Her curves are incredibly responsive. She grinds herself against me harder and harder, giving me flashbacks to the sloppy make-outs of my young teen self. Only now I also feel like it’s my first time, in a way. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want this short-haired beauty.
My hands work their way up her body, gripping her hips, sliding up her ribs to work their way under her shirt and take her luscious tits in my hands.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I first laid eyes on you,” I growl against her mouth. Dahlia lets her head loll back and moans, thrusting her chest against my touch.
“I wish you would’ve,” Dahlia says around gasps of pleasure.
One hand makes its way lower, sliding down her stomach and right into the front of her pants. She stiffens for a second but melts as soon as my fingers find her wet hot pussy.
I work her gently, slowly, coaxing her open, sliding inside her with just one finger. She’s impossibly tight, and my cock twitches in anticipation.
“Miles, people might see us—” She starts, but has to stop as I brush the pad of my thumb across her clit.
“We have a blanket,” I whisper against her ear.
She starts
to say something else, but then I press my finger against her g-spot and she digs her nails into my arms hard enough to break the skin.
“Holy shit what are you doing?” She gasps, her body already writhing against me as waves of pleasure wrack her curvy frame.
“Claiming what’s mine,” I answer, taking a deep breath.
“I want all of you, Dahlia. I want every single kiss, every touch. Every loving word. I want your heart. I want to face whatever’s coming together. I want your tits and your ass and most of all this sweet pussy. I want every orgasm, every last drop of your pleasure. Forever.”
The words trip and tumble off my tongue. I start slowly, but pick up speed, and by the end I’m speaking before I can think, speaking from the heart.
“Oh god yes, Miles. Please. I need you.” She responds, lust and love mixing together in her voice.
I lift her up, one arm around her waist, and yank her pants and panties down. Her hands frantically fumble with my zipper, tugging at my own shorts as I lift my hips, letting her work them down.
She glances down between us as my cock springs up, slapping against my stomach. Immediately she presses herself against it, grinding her clit against the base.
“God that thing is a gorgeous monster.” She whispers in awe.
I cock an eyebrow at her, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze.
“Seen a lot of ugly dicks in your virginal past?” I ask, a hint of my normal teasing falling back into my voice.
She just narrows her eyes in a way that makes me want to bend her over and pound her.
“Spend five minutes on the internet as a girl and you’ll be drowning in dick pics. Trust me.” Her tone is so sassy that I have to respond, but Dahlia keeps going before I can speak.
“This, though…” She sighs, grasping my cock with both hands. “This is a beautiful dick, Miles. Now will you fuck me, already, please? I’m going to explode if you keep teasing me.”
I can’t help it, this girl makes me want to drive her crazy for the rest of my life. I grip her hips, lifting her up until the head of my cock can rub against her wet lips. She soaks my cock in mere seconds.
“God that looks sexy, baby. Just relax, sink down onto me.” I hold her steady, slowly easing her down, letting her take me a bit at a time. It’s agonizingly slow — perfect for driving her insane with need.
“Miles, please.” She whines, her voice high and needy. It’s that tone of surrender, of begging that does me in. I press into her hard, lifting my hips up to meet her, giving her the other half of my cock in one final thrust.
Her mouth opens in a soundless scream, back arched, nails dragging lines of fire down up and down my arms. I lift her up in my lap, sliding her up my cock, then back down, working her onto me instead of thrusting into her.
Her orgasm subsides finally, her face falling forward, lips hungrily finding mine. Her hips begin to rock against me. I grip her hips, guiding her pace, showing her exactly how to move against me.
“God you feel so fucking good.” I murmur against her lips between kisses.
Slowly Dahlia increases her pace until she’s raising her ass up high before slamming it back down onto me. Long, full strokes that leave me bottomed out inside her, her groans of pleasure filling the quiet night air. Every dozen or so she stops and shudders, her pussy clenching tightly around my cock as she comes again. And again.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, felt, or heard in my life. As eager as I am to make it last, I feel the tell-tale surge of pleasure building in my balls at a breakneck pace.
“Dahlia, I’m going to come,” I growl against her ear, pulling her down against me, taking control long enough to thrust into her at my own pace. She braces herself against me, her teeth snagging my ear.
“Come inside me, Miles. Please. I need it.” Her voice is so damn sexy in the moment that I can’t resist.
The moment my throbbing cock begins to unload inside her, I feel her let go one last time, a flood of her own wetness mixing with mine and coating my cock. Her screams and my moans mix together as well, a rooftop duet of incredible pleasure.
Panting, she collapses against my chest. There are tears at the corner of her eyes as she gazes up at me, but the biggest smile I’ve ever seen is plastered all over her gorgeous face.
“Holy shit, is it always like that?” She asks, breathless.
“No,” I say, teasing her for a moment. “It gets better.”
“Oh.” She takes a moment to absorb this, and then I feel her inner walls clench around me as she flexes around my cock.
“I think I’ve created a monster,” I say in mock horror.
She giggles but keeps waking my cock back up by strangling it with her tight pussy.
“Oh, Mr. Turner. You have no idea. The virus is the least of your concerns now.”
I grin at her, kissing her softly.
“Come on. We’ve given the neighbors enough of a show for now, don’t you think?” I try to get a rise out of her as I begin to sit up more, but Dahlia just shakes her head and pushes me back down with her hands on my chest.
“Oh no, Miles. You’re not going anywhere.” Her hands grab one of my arms. I let her take it, laughing, but I hear the distinct snikt of my cuffs wrapping around my wrist and feel the cool metal on my skin. I pull at my arm, but the other half of the cuffs are attached to the railing of our makeshift canopy.
“Dahlia, what—”
“Well, now that I’ve got you where I want you, I’m hardly about to let you go.” She smiles down at me wickedly, and I feel my arousal swelling inside her again.
I reach up and brush her cheek with my other hand softly.
“Dahlia, you can have me for as long as you want. A month, a year, or the rest of our lives. You don’t have to tie me down, because I’m already tied to you.” I say softly, my heart full to overflowing for this sweet, sexy girl.
She smiles down at me, kissing me sweetly.
“I love you too, Miles. But you can’t sweet-talk your way out of this.” She whispers with a teasing grin.
I pout up at her.
“I meant every word of that, Dahlia,” I say, pretending to be affronted.
“Oh, fine. You big baby. Let me just get the key and —” She stops as I lift my hips, pressing deeper into her with my once again hard cock.
“Later. We’ve got time, baby. All the time in the world.” I kiss her again, a full kiss that melts into more.
It’s going to be a good quarantine after all.
Cuffs and all.
7
Epilogue One:
One Month Later
Dahlia
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“Authorities announced today that with the efforts of doctors from around the world, a vaccine has been developed and is currently undergoing trials. The worst of the disease has passed, but law enforcement is still urging everyone to isolate until they can roll the vaccine out to everyone.”
The television isn’t loud, but it’s the only thing I can use to distract myself. The news, as usual, isn’t new — we’d heard about this particular announcement three days ago. Slowly, things were getting better out there in the world. We’ll recover.
That is if I survive the next hour.
The TV is the only sound in the room other than the wet sound of Miles teasing my pussy with his tongue. Three weeks ago I would be hiding my red face in embarrassment as the hot cop who literally saved my life takes his time savoring my lady bits, but I don’t have that option anymore.
Not that I don’t still turn into a beet every time he goes down on me. No. But I can’t hide my face because he decided it was time for him to turn the tables and cuff me, instead.
I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last month. Three things stand out at the top of the list:
First, I wouldn’t last a week alone, let alone an apocalypse. Miles didn’t just save me from a rapey mugger and a dead car — he saved me from myself. I can’t count the number of times that something I
had seen done countless times on YouTube did not work when I attempted it. Did you know that ramen is flammable?
“Hey. My eyes are down here.” Miles’ breath is hot against my sensitive skin, and I shiver as I meet his eyes. In the dim light filtering in through our open window, they shine a gorgeous gold-flecked green. It’s hard to look right at him, and not just because his chin is dripping.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we just call it even now?” I whimper as his long fingers stroke inside me. I’d read about the g-spot, of course, but I’d never managed to find that on my own either. Miles really complements me in every way, and not just because his fingers are magical.
“Oh no, doll. I’m just getting warmed up.” With that, Miles puts his mouth where my moneymaker is. In seconds he’s lapping away at my clit, fingers coaxing my already worn-out pussy into another screeching orgasm.
Unable to brace myself with my hands cuffed behind me, I writhe uncontrollably on the bed.
His bed.
Our bed, now. I haven’t seen my own in a month, and something tells me that even after everything is back to normal, I might not ever sleep in it again.
Then again, I rarely sleep in this one.
“Mmm. You taste so fucking good, doll.” Miles smacks his lips. It’s crude, dirty, and it turns me on so fucking much I almost come all over his face again.
Which brings me to point numero dos. My inner goddess, it turns out, is a totally skanky slut who can’t be trusted to make sane, rational decisions when the tiniest shred of sex is involved.
Case in point? I’m handcuffed to a friggin bed.
“Where were you when the quarantine ended? At church, praying? Nice! I was handcuffed to a bed, spread-eagle while my boyfriend tortured me.” My voice isn’t anywhere near as controlled and sarcastic as I wish it was.
Miles doesn’t bother responding with words. He just kicks into a higher gear so that I can’t speak either. His tongue is even more magical than his fingers, and it coaxes yet another world-shattering climax out of my poor, abused pussy.
