Flesh Series: The Complete Box Set (Flesh, Skin, Flesh Series: Shorts)

by Kylie Scott

  Her fingers kneaded at his forearms, short nails scratching. He hoped she left marks.

  “I feel like a dirty old woman when you look at me that way.”

  “I like you dirty. The old is bullshit. I don’t want to hear that. Ever.”

  “Harder, you sweet talker,” she panted, grinding her pussy against him. “Just like that.”

  “Shit. Stop.” He gripped her hips, holding her still. Slamming his eyes shut against the real-life wet dream sitting on top of his cock. He’d played this moment over and over in his head but nothing came close to actually touching her. Need almost made a mess of him. “Nat, I’m a little on edge here.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” She petted him apologetically but the unholy gleam in her eye remained. “So when you thought about our first time, how did you imagine it?”

  “Honestly? There was less talking, more action. And you were wearing this red thing…”

  She grinned, leant down to kiss him again, good and hard. Teeth chinked. She was obviously as hungry for him as he was for her. So fucking good. Her hips rolled against him and white light edged his vision. The sweet heat of her was killing him. He groaned loudly and his balls drew up tight.

  This had gone on long enough. He needed inside of her. Now. “Nat.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. I got carried away.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he rummaged for his pack, pushing aside the shotgun and fossicking for … “Got it.”

  Natalie leaned over, inspecting his pack with interest. “Exactly how many condoms did you bring with you?”

  “Some.” Three boxes, total. They’d been sitting on the shelf of an abandoned pharmacy. He’d grabbed them … just in case. Which was bullshit. He’d had every intention of using every single one with her and then searching for more. The need she put in him wasn’t going away any time soon. He ripped into the nearest then did the same with one of the foil packages within, handed the contents over to her waiting hand. “Please. Hurry.”

  She shuffled down his body, took his cock in hand. Delicate fingers wrapped around the width of him. His hips kicked and Natalie gave him a look with a hint of mischief. Oh, man. She even licked her lips for good measure. A living dream. “I like this.”

  Angus moaned and fought the need to thrust into her fingers, breathing out hard through his nose. He was running out of time. She had no fucking idea what she did to him. Her grip tightened and he felt about ready to beg. Propose. God, just do something. Sweat sheeted off him.

  Shit, she was going to kill him.

  But she didn’t. Thank God, because the condom cooled things down, dulled the sensations just enough. Natalie rolled it down with smooth precision, kissed and licked her way up his stomach, his chest, crawling back up his body. Taking her time and driving him mad. He grabbed her beneath her arms and brought her mouth back to his. Kissed her soundly, impatiently, several times. Soul deep. Trying to tell her everything he couldn’t begin to know how to say.

  Her nipples brushed his chest and she guided his sheathed cock into her waiting cunt. Slowly impaling herself on him, never breaking eye contact.

  The feel of her enveloping him. Taking him deep into her body. There was nothing like it.

  Nothing.

  The very first time of what he hoped to be many, many more. Mine. He counted backwards from fifty, locked down his stomach muscles. All that shit so as not to lose it. His ragged breathing was the only noise. But every breath brought her scent to him anew. She marked him inside and out without even trying.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Hell, how could he not be? He was in paradise. He was in love.

  He managed a nod and she started to move with a dreamy smile.

  “You have no idea how often I dreamt of this.”

  “Natalie,” he groaned. Helpless beneath her and loving it.

  “But I wanted you safe …”

  “We will be.”

  She rose and fell on him, hands sliding over his shoulders, his chest. Fingers brushing across his nipples. Teasing him. Her greedy hands were all over him and he loved it. Loved the growing look of intense concentration as she rode him, her dark eyes never leaving his face.

  She was his now and he’d tell her as much. Later.

  Sensation spread through him, stealing his mind. His spine felt electric with the tension building. There were no words to describe how good it felt when she fucked him, the scent of sex on the air and the slap of skin on skin. Dark hair sliding across her shoulders, the sway of her tits in the sunlight. His dream girl. His miracle. No one before had ever mattered this much. He couldn’t even remember a before. But this … this he wanted to remember every second of. He wanted it to last forever but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Not even remotely. Not this time.

  “Make yourself come,” he said, voice harsh and his throat tight.

  Natalie held two fingers to his lips and he sucked them into his mouth. Wetting them for her.

  And then, bloody hell.

  The sight of her touching herself, strumming her clit for him. Not an ounce of shame in her. It was more than he could take. He clutched at her hips, taking what he needed. Her sweet, slick cunt taking him. The hand against her groin picked up speed and her internal muscles fluttered around him, clenched at him.

  “Angus,” she moaned, working herself onto him harder, faster.

  Her sex squeezing him. Fingernails digging into him. It was a whole-body effect she had going on and he was lost to it, heart and soul. He held her hips tight as he thrust up into her tight body, once, twice, three times. He swore and some strangled noise escaped him. Nothing he’d ever heard before. He came, grinding himself against her. Vaguely pissed the condom was between him. Emptying himself totally. Giving her everything. His mind was gone. Floating free. Every care and fear a distant memory. Everything had gone away but her.

  Natalie sank down onto his chest, her weight welcome. The mounds of her breasts squished between them, perfect. Angus ran his hands over her damp back. Let reality drift back slowly.

  “I think I like having sex with you,” he said. “Very, very much.”

  She smiled against the side of his face, huffed out a laugh. He was crazy for her laugh. “Mm?”

  “But I might need to try it a few more times to be sure.”

  “The three boxes of condoms in your bag kind of clued me into that plan.”

  He laughed. “If you saw how many were in there, why did you ask?”

  “I was testing your honesty.”

  “Hell of a time to test it.”

  “Relax,” she said. “You passed with flying colours.”

  “Hmm.”

  She smacked a kiss on his cheek. Grinning, pleased with herself. “Sullying you further would be a pleasure.”

  “Time to switch places,” he warned. Rolling her onto her back, taking the top.

  “Whoa.”

  “Alright?” He pushed her dark hair out of her lovely face, rubbed his lips over the dent in her chin. Gave it a leisurely lick. “I gave you beard rash.”

  “I’ll survive. Why so serious a face?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” she said. No hesitation. His heart jumped about in his chest.

  “Natalie. I’ve got another plan,” he said, all seriousness. “About getting out of here and surviving. You and me. If that’s what you want.”

  He felt the breath leave her, her body tensing beneath him. She went very still. “It’s going to involve me scaling the side of the building, isn’t it?”

  “It’s going to involve you trusting me to help get you out of here. Can you do that?”

  Her gaze slid off him. “Huh. Climbing the side of a tall building. Well, we’re going to need to wait until they calm down. You attracted a lot of infected with the shotgun.”

  “A couple of days. I brought supplies, we’ll be fine. You didn’t answer the question.”

  “I’ve seen your supplies.”

  “Ans
wer the question, Natalie.” He nudged her nose with his. “This is important.”

  With a humph, she pushed her breasts against him. Trying her hardest to derail him, apparently. “You were trying to soften me up with an orgasm, weren’t you?”

  He just stared at her. Waiting.

  “You’re meant to be young and impressionable. Easily sidetracked by boobs and the mention of sex.” She rolled her head to the side, looking out the dreaded balcony window. Her dark brows drew tight. He’d never faced this kind of thing. Walking into the fenced pool area below had been obvious, necessary. There wasn’t a damn thing he wouldn’t do for her. But he hadn’t lived with the fear of it for all of his life, following his every step. Not like she had with her fear of heights.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said. “However long it takes. I’m very serious about the you and me part.”

  Dark eyes turned to him, the column of her throat moving as she swallowed hard. “Okay. For you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Natalie,” he chuckled, taken aback. Probably blushing again. Bloody hell. “I’m honoured. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Her sudden smile was brilliant. Breathtaking. God help anything that tried to separate him from her now. Not happening.

  “I’m not sure I brought enough condoms.”

  * * *

  Today was the day. Everything was quiet below.

  Eerily so.

  Natalie peered over the edge of the balcony, her grip on Angus’s hand tightening. She was strangling his fingers, throttling them. Close to snapping them in half. But he didn’t complain. She really didn’t know what she’d done to deserve him.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  He just looked at her. Yes, they had to leave the apartment sooner or later. Turned out she could distract him with sex. She’d done so for a solid five days. Thank God for Angus’s endless supply of condoms. There wasn’t an inch of him she hadn’t climbed all over. And there wasn’t a chance she was going to disappoint him now. They were a pair. A duo. Inseparable. He’d said so, time and again, and she’d long since stopped doubting.

  Mine.

  “Tell me again,” she prodded.

  He tugged on her hand, drawing her back to his side. She went gladly. “I met a guy who said there was a town out west. They managed to get a wall up. He heard them on a CB radio, talking about it. He was heading there straight away but I had to come back for you.”

  “Right.”

  “We climb down. Slowly.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles and he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Holding it against his lips. “We head south-west. That’s where they are.”

  “South-west. Okay.”

  “We have somewhere safe to go, Nat.”

  The ocean breeze was ruffling his hair. He was the picture of beachside magnificence. Tall and burnished. Hot. Mine.

  “I can do this,” she said.

  “Yes. Of course you can. You can do anything. And I’ll be beside you every step of the way.”

  She grinned. “Let’s go.”

  WHAT TROUBLE IS

  CHAPTER ONE

  112 Days Post-Apocalypse

  Montville, Queensland, Australia

  “Put it down.”

  “Ladies first.”

  “That’s sweet,” Lindsay said, forcing a smile. “But I insist.”

  The stranger stared back at her silently, pistol steady in his hands.

  Shit. Shivers. What to do?

  Stopping in the small town had been a risk but she needed supplies. The supermarket had been next to empty and the chemist little better. Paw-Paw Ointment was safely tucked away in her pack but she still needed to find the multi-vitamins. Someone had trashed the place good. Stock covered the floor and the front window had been smashed in, exposing it all to the elements. Autumn leaves were scattered around and red dust coated everything. It looked a fucking mess.

  Freaking mess. Damn it.

  The man cleared his throat and her rifle jumped in her hands. He wasn’t small, the action was warranted.

  “I have no intention of hurting you,” he said. “But I have no intention of getting shot either. I’m not putting down the gun until you do.”

  “Seems what we have here is a failure to communicate.”

  “I’d say it was closer to a Mexican standoff.” A neatly trimmed beard covered half his face making reading him a problem. He was tall, well built. She couldn’t have over-powered him in days of yore. Today it was right out.

  No way would she put down the gun.

  “Those don’t tend to end well in movies,” she said.

  “No,” he agreed in a deep voice with a hint of an accent.

  “English?” she asked.

  “Mm.”

  “Nice.” Oh, how she loved a man with an accent. What a pity about the gun. “So… what’s your name?”

  Pale blue eyes narrowed on her. He had the tall, dark and handsome thing going on, though his face seemed a bit severe. Guess living the post apocalyptic dream did that to you.

  “We’re going to play get to know you?” he asked. “Seriously?”

  “Why not?” She shrugged, her pack weighing her down. Her back ached and the muscles in her arms were straining to keep the gun upright. Sweat dampened the back of her neck and her armpits. Never mind, she’d manage. She had to. It was kill or be killed these days and pretty or no, she’d shoot him if she had to. “We might as well get to know each other. Figure we have time since neither of us is willing to give in.”

  “True.”

  His gaze slid up her rifle and onto her, lingering on the blackbirds tattooed around her wrist. Good thing she’d worn her baggy jacket, no need to be giving him any ideas. Her stupid body had schemes aplenty, heating further beneath his perusal in a wholly pleasant way. Damn it. Hard not to enjoy the delicious rush, no matter how ill timed. Her hormones were out of control.

  “Very well,” he said. “I’m Aiden Moore. Is this your first visit to Woodford?”

  That accent, it was so wonderfully hoity-toity. She swallowed and got her deviant mind back on track. “No, I’ve been to the Folk Festival a couple of times.”

  “Ah, lovely.” Fine lips shut and he looked down his long, straight nose at her. She wasn’t short, but the dude was tall enough to manage it with aplomb. “And you are?”

  “Lindsay Robertson. Pleasure to meet you. Sort of.” She gave him a lie of a smile.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Indeed.”

  “So, your first time in Woodford, Aiden?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ve lived here for a couple of years now.”

  “Sweet.” The nozzle on her rifle dipped.

  “Getting heavy?”

  She straightened her spine and stuck out her chin. “Nope.”

  He had a short dark head of hair and wore cargos and a black polo shirt despite the cooler weather. The material outlined a sturdy set of shoulders. Short sleeves stretched around arms firm and defined in ways she couldn’t help but admire. And he only held a pistol. It wouldn’t weigh half as much as her fricking rifle.

  Bigger wasn’t always better.

  “Shall we sit?” he enquired politely. Like he was invititing her to tea.

  She smiled, charmed despite herself. “Let’s.”

  They both moved slowly, eyes never leaving the other. Lindsay kicked aside a scattering of perfume bottles and make-up, clearing way for some rear space. She sagged down to sit cross-legged, rifle settled across her lap, pointed his way. Damn, but taking the weight off felt good.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Much,” she sighed. “What shall we talk about?”

  The man studied her for a moment. “Are you just passing through town, Lindsay?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “And you’re travelling alone?”

  She sealed her lips shut. Yes, she w
as all on her lonesome. But best not to tell the pretty man that. Better he thought Batman might burst through the door and come to her aid at any moment. She wished.

  “I only saw one moped outside,” he said. “So I’ll assume yes.”

  It hadn’t even occurred to her to hide it. Stupid, stupid girl. “You knew I was in here?”

  “I haven’t seen another uninfected soul for almost three months now. I was… curious.”

  “But you drew your gun on me. That’s not exactly friendly.”

  “I only had it in my hand as a precaution. You’re the one who started pointing weapons at people.” Aiden looked at the gun sitting on his knee, aimed straight at her. “I suppose you can’t be too careful these days.”

  “True,” she said bitterly. “The last person I ran into tried to rape me.”

  His dark brows descended. She hadn’t been too fucking, ugh, freaking, impressed herself.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, gaze fixed to her face. “He’s dead?”

  “Yes.” It was a nasty memory, a stinking, festering, miasma in her mind. She had killed someone. But she could live with it. She had to. A girl didn’t survive the end of the world without a few hang-ups. “I had no choice.”

  “No,” he agreed decisively. “You most certainly didn’t. Where have you come from, Lindsay?”

  “Redcliffe.”

  “No good, there?”

  “It’s calmed down a little but there’s still a lot of infected around. And a few survivors.” One less as of three days ago. Asshole. Hat. Asshat. Actually, they both sounded pretty bad. She’d have to come up with something else, suitably descriptive. “No one you’d want to meet.”

  “I dare say.”

  She shifted, leaning back a little. Her bladder began to protest. “How long have you been in Australia, Aiden?”

  “Nine years now. I was travelling around when I met my wife and settled here.” The pad of his thumb rubbed at his empty ring finger. The shop was shadowy, the lighting low, but there wasn’t a tan-line that she could see. Not that she should have been looking. “She died three years back. Cancer. A blessing in a way… her not living to see this.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a ‘huff’. “Are we really going to sit here all day chatting and pointing guns at each other?”