by Kylie Scott
Maybe Finn was right. Maybe they should lock her up. Something to consider. He sighed, hung his head. She’d just figure out how to pick locks.
They were all okay. They were good. Everyone would recover. Unlike Sam.
Dawn neared, the sky a hazy mix of violet and pink in the east. The renewed build-up of infected on the other side of the wall slowly dispersed, the moaning and groaning gradually calming. They’d attracted more than their fair share of attention tonight with all the noise and commotion.
Time was running out for Santa. In the eight to ten hour incubation period a fever took hold, causing the person to sweat profusely. Skin turned from tan or pink to an eerie gray. With the light of dawn, Dan could all too easily see the toll the sickness took in Santa’s sunken eyes. It was hard to look at him, but even harder to look away. Any minute now, Santa could turn from man to mindless predator. Erin remained at her father’s side, posture rigid and face set. She wasn’t crying. Her hand lingered on the butt of the pistol holstered at her side. Waiting.
Her father was filling his last hours with organizing the small community before the virus took him. Talking to everyone. Solidifying the council. He had already asked Finn to step up and take a seat. Erin would lead them for now. The locals weren’t ready for so much new blood so fast. Finn had agreed.
“She shouldn’t have to do that,” said Sean, the militia captain, tipping his chin at Erin and her pistol.
He and his men had helped hunt down the last of the infected inside the walls. Then they’d moved on to the grisly job of dealing with the dead in a respectful but efficient manner.
Everyone watched the newcomers, waiting for a misstep. Acceptance wouldn’t come easily. Considering how trigger-happy folks were feeling after the carnage tonight, it wouldn’t take much for all hell to break loose once more. The militia seemed to appreciate that fact, moving slowly, wary of spooking anyone. There were lots of sincere nods and wary greetings. As to their true intentions, time would tell. The fact remained that the town needed them. The wall wasn’t without its weaknesses.
And who knew what the hell else was out there, ready and waiting to come at them?
“I agree. Erin shouldn’t have to deal with her own flesh and blood.” Dan stretched, cracked his neck and winced. Another death on his hands. Better his than Erin’s.
They walked toward the small group. A couple of remaining Council members with grave faces stood beside Erin and her father. It wouldn’t be long now. Dan had seen the signs often enough to know.
“Wait,” Sean said, watching the scene with tired eyes. “It’s already being taken care of.”
Two militia men were waiting close by, behind Erin, out of her line of sight.
Santa turned to his daughter and his whole body started shaking, twitching. He clutched his arms to his chest. “I, ahh … I may have left it too late.”
Erin’s face fell but she nodded.
One of the strangers stepped up to Erin, put a hand to her elbow. He leant in close, mouth moving fast. Whatever he said was too soft to hear.
“Let him.” Santa fell to his knees, lips curling back in a pained snarl. “Do it!”
“No!” Erin leapt forward, toward her father, as a low growl escaped him. His fingers curled into claws and his eyes rolled back into his head, tremors racking his body. The stranger grabbed her, hauling her back.
“Dad!”
The second militia man drew and fired, the blast of his revolver echoing through the quiet town, reverberating off the neat lines of old buildings.
Santa’s body tumbled to the ground. Dead.
Erin gasped, mouth slack and eyes wide. The man who held her released her, drawing back. But a hand remained stretched out to her, in case she stumbled.
Daniel swore fervently beneath his breath. Aah, man. What a thing for her to have to see.
Her fingers flexed and closed, flexed and closed as she stared down at her father, lying in an expanding pool of blood. Somewhere in the distance kookaburras started laughing, greeting the dawn. The wood in the funeral pyre popped and crackled, the scent of charred flesh heavy on the breeze. Daniel swallowed back the nausea. Death wasn’t something you ever got used to. Not really.
Erin spun and stepped up to the man who had killed her father. His gun was still in his hand. Her fist caught him fair in the face, slamming into his cheekbone, leaving a smear of blood in her wake. She drew her hand back again, her intent clear.
The man grimaced, straightened and holstered his gun. He stood tall, not moving an inch, with his eyes wide open, waiting to take anything she had to give him. Not saying a word.
Her fist trembled in the air between them, wavering.
Erin’s shoulders crumpled first, caving in. Her hand fell next, spine bowing and knees folding. She made no noise at all as she knelt beside her father’s body.
Captain Manning nodded at the two men standing guard behind the woman. “They’ll look after her.”
Daniel raised a brow.
“You’d have her live with killing her father on her conscience?” the captain asked.
“No. Just curious about exactly how they’re going to ‘look after her.’”
Sean’s tired gaze stayed on him a long time. “We realize we’re going to have to prove ourselves.” He narrowed his eyes at Erin. She remained huddled beside Santa’s corpse. “It’ll be easier for her to hate them than herself, or anyone else here for having to kill him. They’ll look after her by dealing with his body, if she wants, when she’s ready. They’ll make sure no one bothers her if she wants to be left alone. That’s all.”
Daniel rolled out his lips. “Yeah. That’s what I thought you meant.”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” asked the captain in a low tone.
“No, not particularly. Sure as hell, not right now.” Dan smothered a yawn, widened his stance. “You’ll get your chance to prove yourselves. Be careful though. People are going to be edgy for a while. It’d be sad if there were any accidents and one of you got shot by mistake.”
The captain’s eyes lit with a wolfish grin. “Wouldn’t it be?”
“Now then, I’m just saying.”
Sean grunted, frowned off into the distance. “How did the world get so fucked up?”
“Dunno. Why don’t we all just concentrate on helping each other stay alive, hmm?”
“Believe me, that’s the plan.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Un-fucking-believable, they were arguing again.
Finn climbed the steps silently. Loath to interrupt, because not all arguments were bad. Especially not if the room reeked of sex.
“Dan…” Al’s voice was low and urgent.
Finn knew that tone of voice. Finn loved that tone of voice.
“You have to wait,” Dan said.
“You’re not being fair.”
“Of course I am.”
“No, you’re not,” she moaned. “You’re really fucking not.”
“I would remind you, babe. This was all your idea.”
Their girl took a sharp breath. “Damn it.”
“You’re doing so well. The secret, my love, is lube—lots and lots of lube.”
Finn’s imagination had presented many varied scenarios. The one that met him topped them all.
Al was naked and on her hands and knees, a personal favorite of his. Watching her tits sway was awesome. Dan knelt behind her, two fingers buried in her gorgeous ass. His pants were still on, despite the definite bulge at the front.
And there were balloons, strangely enough, balloons in every color imaginable. A whole room full of them.
“You’re in trouble,” Dan said to Finn. His fingers never ceased their slow, careful thrust and retreat.
“Why is that?” Finn asked, his gaze glued to Dan’s hand.
“It’s your birthday, and you didn’t tell me.” Al’s face was flushed pink, her mouth open, and jaw tight. Her gray eyes were glazed with passion. “You were supposed to be ho
me quarter of an hour ago.”
“I forgot about my birthday.” Finn dropped to his knees beside the mattress and leant over, kissing the life out of her. He couldn’t get enough of her. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“He wouldn’t let me come,” she tipped her chin at Dan.
“It was polite to wait for the birthday boy,” said Dan with a wink.
Finn grinned so hard his face hurt, hand stroking her healed shoulder. “Can I guess what my present is?”
“Get your dick out. I’m tired of waiting. You need to catch up fast.” Al’s gray eyes glanced up at him, mouth open and waiting, her beautiful lips moist. “Hurry.”
He loved her so much it hurt, along with being so damned turned on it hurt. And she had been more careful the last six weeks, conceding to some, if not all, of his demands. Things really had calmed down.
“Catching up is not going to be a problem.” He was already hard, the surge of blood to his groin dizzying.
Finn unbuckled his belt, tore at the button and zipper of his jeans. The minimum required to free his cock and feed it into her waiting mouth. Sweet heat and tension. Ali’s lips closed around him, sucking at the engorged flesh.
Perfect.
The muscles in his stomach jumped and clenched as she drew on him. Her tongue got busy, and his head fell back, hands cradling her skull. “God, Al. That’s so good.”
She moaned around Finn’s cock. Daniel gave a short, pained laugh, scissoring his fingers more obviously in her rear entrance. “She likes this more than she has let on.”
Al hadn’t been the only one waiting.
The man licked his lips, watching his fingers gliding into the nicely stretched little hole. Finn’s cock pulsed in her mouth. Waiting really wasn’t an option. That she gave to him like this drove him wild. That she had planned this for him.
Best. Birthday. Ever.
“I think we’re about ready,” Finn said.
“Alrighty.” Dan slid his fingers free of her and wiped them on a waiting towel. He gave her ass a final squeeze, shuffled back on his knees.
Finn reluctantly withdrew from the heat of her mouth. Her tongue swiped over the head of his cock, taking a drop of pre-cum before he could draw away completely. Her fervor for him was the only gift he needed. Not that he would turn down her ass.
“Happy birthday,” she said.
“You have no idea.” He kissed her deeply, giving her everything he had. Thanking her without words. “You want Dan beneath you?”
“Both of you?”
“If you want.”
Her teeth worried her lip and her eyes wandered away briefly. She was nervous, but that had never stopped their girl before.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“We’ll go slow.” Finn whipped off his shirt, nodded to the man. “You’re on the bottom.”
“Excellent.” Dan dealt with his jeans in a hurry, hand to his cock as he crawled back onto the bed. “Come here, babe. It’s been killing me thinking I’d have to wait.”
“You like to watch,” Al purred, camping it up with a grin.
“I do. But I like to participate even more,” Daniel assured her, lying on his back so Al could climb atop him. She kissed him over and over, covering his mouth with her swollen lips. Her hands pressed down on his shoulders, holding him in place. Playing with him. Their wrestling escalated till Daniel took her hip in hand, his other guiding his cock into her. “Give me that pretty pussy.”
She inhaled and sank down on him, her hands wrapped around his shoulders and her ass squirming as she worked herself onto Daniel. Finn was almost jealous. He knew how her body welcomed him, the pull of succulent cunt. His balls were in agony.
“Hell,” Dan mumbled.
“Lie down, Al.” Finn’s hands guided her onto Dan’s chest and the man’s hands slipped up her arms, held her. “That’s it. We’ll take it nice and easy.”
“My brave girl,” said Daniel. “I’m so proud of you right now. I just can’t say.”
“Shuddup,” Al choked out a laugh that morphed into a moan when Finn rubbed the head of his cock over her asshole and pressed inward. Christ. The way that tight hole parted for him, softening and giving just enough to swallow the crown of cock. He had to take his time, had to make it good for her. Damn but it hurt to wait. “Aah.”
“Push back, Al.”
“Stings,” she panted.
Daniel stroked her sides, soothing her, pressed kisses to the side of her face. “Relax, babe. You’re tensing up.”
“I shouldn’t have encouraged the oral,” she groaned. “You were big enough without it.”
Her hold on Finn eased incrementally as he pressed forward. Sweat and heat flooded his spine, building up and up. Slowly, he pushed into her until his pelvis lay flush against her body. He was seated inside her fully now. The presence of Dan inside her made the fit even tighter.
Finn hung his head and sucked in a breath, his lips drawn back. Every time he touched her he doubted it could get any better. Every time, he was proven wrong.
“Good?” Daniel enquired, face strained and damp.
“Fuck.” Finn shook his head, unable to elaborate. He rubbed a hand over her trembling back. “Okay, Al?”
She gave a hesitant nod. “Yeah.” Which meant not really, but she was committed to persevering for his sake.
Insufficient.
Finn lifted her slightly, burrowed his hands beneath her and cupped her breasts. He played with the pointed tips of her nipples, rolling and pinching until she made one of her happy noises. Her shoulder blades flexed as she pressed herself into his hands. “Show her some love, Dan.”
“With pleasure.” The man cupped her face and took her mouth, angled head and eyes shut tight.
Finn moved his hands back to her hips and Daniel took over thumbing her nipples. A soul kiss if he had ever seen one. How they breathed through it Finn wasn’t sure, but Al began moving restlessly beneath him.
It was time.
Finn drew back. She shivered. He pushed into her. She broke off the kiss and moaned, fingers clutching at the bedding on either side of Daniel’s head. He did it again, pulling out and thrusting back into her, Daniel moving in counterpart to him this time. The feel of the other man’s dick stroking inside her was a strange, tantalizing sensation. His skin tingled and his balls drew tight. His dick throbbed in the tight embrace of her body.
“I can’t last,” Finn said.
“Make yourself come, baby.” Daniel instructed, and Al complied, fingers sliding down her body. Her hips kicked back against them and the tight ring of muscle clenched at his cock. Finn lost it, fucking himself into her, Daniel following suit.
Their woman groaned, pitching forward against Dan’s chest, body shaking and shuddering as she came. Her internal muscles crimped down on him, squeezed him tight. Finn thrust deep and held there, emptying himself into her.
Finn shut his eyes against the flickering lights, gave in to the swell of heat and emotion rising through him.
When he came to, his face was pressed to her back, wet with their combined sweat. His half-soft cock was still buried in her ass. Al’s only proof of life was the shallow rise and fall of her rib cage. Going again so soon wasn’t an option, birthday or not. He needed to get off her.
“I love you,” he said. Gently, he pulled free of her body and rose to his feet.
Dan gave him a lazy wink, one finger wrapping itself in a strand of her hair.
Finn headed to the bathroom, cleaned himself up and took a wet facecloth back for Al. She had crawled off the man and lay on her side, one arm thrown across Dan’s chest. Finn eased her knee up onto Dan’s hip and ran the cloth over the swollen bud of her rear entrance.
“I like the balloons,” he said. and received a tired smile.
“You do?”
“Yep.” Finn put the washcloth aside and lay down behind her. “And I really liked your present.”
She gave a low chuckle. “That’s good.”
“
Are you sore?” He scattered kisses over her shoulder, the one that had been hurt.
“A little. You know, I’m pretty certain that’s not how you make babies, Finn.”
“I had that part covered,” Dan rumbled.
“Mmm. Yes, you did,” Ali said. There was a pause, her shoulders rising and falling on a deeper breath. “I think I’m a couple of days late. I can’t be sure, things haven’t been regular the last few months.”
“Babe.” Dan leant over, kissed the side of her face. “I guess we’ll see.”
Finn curved his arm around her, seaming himself to her back.
Home.
“Best. Birthday. Ever.”
SKIN
For Hugh
CHAPTER ONE
Stanthorpe, Queensland, Australia
189 Days Post-Apocalypse
In the end they took a vote on whether or not to trade Roslyn to the stranger at the gate. They even gave her a say, demonstrating that democracy was not dead, even if civilization had gone belly-up six months back, when the virus first struck.
All nine survivors had gathered on the school steps. No one would meet her eyes. The weak winter sun above them did little to combat the bitter wind. Roslyn’s marrow was ice and her teeth chattered. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself, huddle down into the green school jacket she’d purloined from a student locker. But she didn’t. Spine straight, shoulders back. Her father would have been proud.
She cleared her throat. They couldn’t do this. She would explain why in a sensible and rational manner, using small words. “I know we’re running low on food, but there’s no reason we can’t make a trip into town to look for supplies. If we just make a plan—”
“Let’s get on with it,” said Neil, former head of the Math department. Still pissed she had refused to put out. Never had she met such a pretentious, unattractive git. “Please raise your hand to vote ‘yea’.”
Her gaze skittered around the group.
