Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  “Oh, I’ll be easy. Don’t you worry your pretty little self.” She smiled at the devious glint in his eyes.

  “I don’t know about little. Have you seen this thing?” She pointed at her stomach. “I swear it gets bigger by the second.”

  He smiled. “Yes, I have, and I quite like it.” He helped Claire lay down and crawled up next to her. Nick lay on his side, rubbing her stomach, and smiled.

  “Can you feel the baby moving?” He stopped rubbing as she directed his hand.

  “Yes! Holy shit! I felt a little wiggle.” He held his hand there for a few seconds, then felt around her stomach, searching for more fluttering. She smiled at his obvious joy.

  “What do you think? Boy or girl?”

  “Hmm… I’m thinking a girl,” Nick said.

  “Me, too. I’d like to name her Willow.” Claire smiled.

  “I like that, but let’s keep it between us. Just something for the three of us.” He returned her smile, leaned down, and pulled up her shirt enough to expose her stomach. He kissed her where the baby danced around. Claire ran her hands through Nick’s dark hair. He crawled up, his eyes bright, but mischievous.

  “You up for some sexy time, my beautiful ginger?” he said in a gritty voice.

  “Maybe,” she teased.

  He leaned down to her face and kissed her again, carefully balancing himself so he wouldn’t put his weight on Claire’s growing belly. He nuzzled her ear, his cool breath sending chills down her body. He groaned when he felt her shudder under him.

  Instantly, her breasts perked up. He ran his hand down her sides, his thumb brushing across her overflowing cups. She moaned under his tender touch. He helped her out of her shirt, then sucked in a deep breath when he saw her.

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “You are one sexy momma.” She blushed. He unhooked her bra, tossing it aside. When he pulled his shirt off, she ran her hands down his chest, stopping at his belt buckle. He watched her hands work feverishly, trying to undo his belt. He chuckled a little. Finally, his pants slid down, exposing everything he had.

  “Wow,” Claire said with a smile.

  “What?”

  “I like what I see.”

  “Yeah?”

  She reached down and ran her hands over his arousal. He quaked from her slow stroking. His eyes rolled, and his breathing became ragged. “Oh, babe. Christ…” He grabbed her hand to make her stop. “Be careful. It’s been a while for us.”

  “Sorry,” she said, full of guilt.

  “I’m fine with it.” He ran his thumb over her lips. “You’ve been busy baking my little Willow.” She smiled.

  The thought that they finally were together and had made a baby out of love filled her heart with joy, no matter how frightened she was. He leaned down and began nipping at her smooth, pale skin. Then he yanked down her black yoga pants.

  “Sweet Jesus… Look at you. You look like a goddess.”

  “Oh stop! I do not!” She flushed, trying to cover herself with her arms.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He forced her arms to her sides. “All that beautiful, long, curly ginger hair, your pale skin, smallish swollen tummy, creamy legs… God, babe. I could look at you for hours. Look at what you do to me.”

  Her eyes glanced down at his obvious excitement. He pushed her knees apart and settled on her, being careful not to lay on her bump. He kissed her with passion, nipping at her lips and running his tongue around her jawline. She moaned with desire.

  “Nick…,” she whispered in his ear.

  He slowly rocked himself into her. She fought not to cry out. Nick took her face in his hands, waiting for her cue to continue. She panted, and every time she breathed, Nick could hardly handle it. She was so tight around him. He loved her so much, he wanted to make her feel his love for her.

  He groaned a little too loud as he moved with long, slow strokes. She shushed him. He laughed a little and apologized, then began pumping his hips into hers.

  He threw his head back and his breathing went ragged again. His heart raced in pleasure. Claire raked her nails down his back as he dipped farther into her. She clenched down around him.

  “Oh god, babe. I’m close. Fuck!” he barked out. “You drive me crazy.” She pulled him close to her and shifted her hips, instantly hitting her spot. Within seconds, she shattered beneath him.

  He tried like hell not to pound into her, but he couldn’t control himself as her body gripped on to him. She grabbed his face so she could watch him come. His face twisted, then his jaw fell open as he hit his peak. Nick moaned out her name, and she smiled. After he collapsed on the bed next to her, breathless, she rolled over on her side, still smiling. She interlaced her fingers with his.

  “I love you,” she said in her soft voice.

  “I love you, and Willow, so much, Claire.” He ran his palm along her jaw. He was so in love with her and the baby, and when he saw her eyes fill with tears, he knew she felt it, as well. He kissed her once more. “As much as I want to chat, babe, I need some sleep. I’m spent.”

  “You can go to sleep, as long as you cuddle with me.” He pulled the blankets up over them and snuggled up against her body. He sighed happily, then fell asleep.

  She lay there for a moment, thinking about holding his child for the first time. She rubbed her belly as the baby danced around. Claire’s eyelids began to feel heavy and she drifted off to sleep, smiling, her heart full of joy.

  “Well, looks like three bedrooms, Thomas,” I said. “Luckily for you, you get a bed tonight.” He smiled and shuffled into his temporary bedroom.

  I sighed when I heard noises from Claire’s room. Gross, I thought. I hurried away from the hallway, but dragged my feet as I went back out to the living room. It was time for the hardest part of the night.

  Dragging Henry’s drunk ass into bed.

  He was passed out against the wall, a bottle in his hand. My heart broke for him. My poor Henry was such a beautiful wreck.

  I missed Henry so much. Sometimes I wondered if I was ever going to get him back. I stared at him, listening to him quietly snoring. I put my hands over my face to try to push back the flooding emotions. I choked out a few cries.

  I needed to gather myself. I needed to help my beautiful lover who, seemingly, was trying to make himself forget everything that had ever happened to him. I knelt in front of him and pried the bottle from his grip.

  “Lover…” I took his cold hands. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was dead. How ironic does that sound? “Hey…” I touched his face. He moaned and swatted at my hand. “Henry. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He moaned again. His eyes flickered opened. The brilliant green sparkled, even in his half-lidded, drunken state. “Come on. You have to help me. I can’t carry your butt all the way in there.”

  He chuckled a little. At least he wasn’t always angry when he was drunk. He started to get up. “Whoa…” He fell back down to a sitting position.

  I sighed, irritated. “What’s wrong?” I was afraid to ask, but I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

  “I’ve got a…serious case of…the spins.” That was just what I wanted to deal with. I was so tired and just wanted to get to bed. Every time Henry got the spins, it was usually followed up by a round, or twelve, of puking.

  “Perfect. Are you going to be sick?” He laughed again. I rolled my eyes. “I mean puke, Henry. Are you going to fucking puke?” I was quickly becoming angry.

  “Quite possibly.” He hiccupped.

  “Great. Come on. You can’t puke in here. Let’s go outside.” I dragged him up, and we stumbled out the front door. He fell to his knees in the front yard. He retched for what seemed like hours while I sat on the front steps, watching the area, a Sig in my hand.

  When I heard the familiar snarling close by, I darted my gaze around, looking for the source, but it was pitch black.

  “Henry, hurry up!” I said in a loud whisper. “There’s one around. I can hear it!” He
stood, trying to balance himself, then staggered toward me. “Oh god. You stink.” He was still ten feet away, but I could smell the regurgitated wine/pretzel/peanut butter stench.

  “Sorry,” he said, full of shame as he rushed toward me. I grabbed him and pulled him inside before we became a midnight snack. I slammed the front door closed, locking it. I dragged his ass down the hall and pushed him into our room, closing and locking the door behind us. He staggered to the bed and fell on it, passing out.

  I woke as the sun was rising. It was normal for me. As soon as the sun thought about rising, my eyelids would pop open, no matter how late I went to bed. I turned over, seeing Henry wide awake, smiling at me.

  “Hey, my black-haired beauty.”

  Could it be? Was he really not wasted for a change? And he smelled good. Even his hair was clean. I was so pleased that he cleaned himself up.

  “Hey, lover. You sleep at all?” I snuggled up to him, discovering that he was naked. Big shocker.

  “Maybe an hour or so. I don’t know exactly. I woke and cleaned up. Then I wanted to snuggle with you.” He reached out and played with my hair. He trailed his hands down my spine, tickling me as he went. He chuckled when I squirmed. I didn’t find him very funny, so a smacked him on the chest.

  We lay there, silent for a while, staring at one another. Then I asked, “Do you miss it?”

  “Miss what?”

  “Being more sober than drunk.”

  He sighed. “Of course I do. I miss all the moments with you.” His voice was sad. I looked up at him. His eyes weren’t brilliant anymore. They were fading. “Most of my time is spent drunk or passed out. I’m already feeling the need. I hate it.”

  “Then stop. I hate it, too.”

  “I can’t. You don’t understand. I crave it. My body needs it. I feel sick without it.”

  “But you’re sick with it.”

  “I can’t explain it. I don’t want to argue about this again. I hate arguing with you. It makes my heart ache because, more than likely, it’s my issues causing you such sadness.” He shook his head and covered his eyes. I ran the tips of my fingers down his chest. His body stiffened.

  He rested against the headboard, my head ending up in his lap. I rolled over so I could see him. He gazed down at me with a deep sadness. I reached up and touched his bearded face.

  “I love you so much, Henry. I just wish you would stop doing this to yourself.”

  “I know. I will. I need some time and a place with stability first.”

  “I feel like you’re making excuses.” My eyes filled with tears.

  “Love, stop crying over me. Come here.” He pulled me up, and I straddled his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, his face nuzzled into my ear.

  “I can’t help it. I’m so worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He gently kissed my ear, then nuzzled his nose in the crook of my neck. He traced his tongue up my neck, nipping me as he went. I briefly wondered if he would tear my throat out at some point. He kissed my jawline, working his way to my lips. My breath shuddered every time I exhaled.

  He deftly pulled off my tank top, exposing my breasts to the cool air. As he ran his hands down my sides, he kissed and touched me all over. My breathing grew quicker and heavier. I let out a slight moan as he continued to work his hands all over me. I wanted him so badly, my insides ached.

  At that point, my hair was so long, it hit my elbows. He grabbed it, twisting it in his hand, and yanked my head back. He ran his tongue up my throat.

  “Henry…,” I whispered. He groaned as I adjusted my body over his hardness. He reached down into my panties and massaged me. In an instant, my insides screamed for him to be in me.

  “You are so wet and ready for me,” he whispered in a raspy voice. He tipped me back, lying on top of me. He ripped off my panties and tossed them to the floor. He held himself up as I helped guide him. I moaned as he slowly filled me, inch by inch.

  No matter how deep his sickness ran, he still felt good to me, and I could never get enough of him. That was the only time we could connect like we used to. I needed to feel that again.

  Slowly, Henry slid in and out of me, watching my face. I bit my lip as I locked eyes with him.

  He continued his slow, torturous rhythm. He knew I craved more from him. He just wanted me to tell him.

  “More,” I moaned. He smirked and began a quicker pace. Each thrust was harder than the last. I was popping my hips up, trying to get every inch of him.

  “More,” I moaned again.

  He began a punishing rhythm. His body pounded into mine, pushing us toward the end of the bed. He groaned, topping it off with that sexy growl I loved. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down. He gripped onto the end of the mattress, pounding himself into me so hard, I cried out, not caring how loud I was. The pain felt so good. I felt like I was releasing pent up anger and frustration. I wondered if Henry felt like that at times. My body trembled. Out of nowhere, he stopped. I opened my eyes.

  “No, I’m not done…”

  He slid off the side of bed. “Turn over,” he demanded. I paused. “I said, turn over.” That was not my sweet, loving Henry. His eyes were vacant, but I did as instructed. He pulled my hips toward him. “You want more?” he growled in my ear as he leaned over my body.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He pushed my back down with one hand, which tilted my hips just right, and slammed into me. I bit into the blankets, trying to stifle my cries.

  “More?” he asked with a quiet growl.

  “Yes.” He pulled out and slammed into me again.

  “More?” he asked with venom. I looked back at him and saw the hollowness in his eyes, his jaw clenched.

  “Yes! More. Please, give me more,” I said in frustration. I needed him. I needed to release. He held my hips firm in his hands and repeatedly slammed into me.

  I groaned in pleasure. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to feel the pain…his pain. I reached down and ran my fingers over myself, enjoying all the sensations brewing deeply within.

  “Oh fuck…,” he growled.

  He continued his onslaught, and my body bucked wildly. I furiously pulsated around him as he continued slamming into me. My body screamed in agony, but it felt so goddamn good. I grabbed at the blankets again to muffle my cries.

  “Fuuuuck…,” he groaned, then exploded in me. He stayed still for a moment, his sweaty forehead resting on my back. His hands were on the mattress on either side of me, the blanket twisted in his fists as he tried to catch his breath. Then he fell down on the bed, grabbing me and curling his body around mine.

  I lay there in his arms and cried.

  “Love…I’m sorry.” He tried to soothe me, but it wasn’t working. “I got carried away. I thought you wanted it like that.” His eyes were telling and his facial features had softened. He was baffled. He wiped the tears off my face. “Love, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I did. I wanted to feel some of your pain.” I buried my face into his chest and sobbed. “I wish I could take it away from you.”

  “Jesus Christ, Elaina.” He held me tight, trying to comfort me. I felt his body shake. “I love you so much for saying that, but I never want you to feel my pain. Never.” His voice shook. He grabbed my face and made me look at him. “Do you understand me? Never!” He was angry, maybe even in disbelief that I would do something like that. He held me for a long time before we heard a knock on the door.

  “We’ll be out in a few,” I hollered. I sat up, realizing I was bleeding. His face went paler than normal.

  “Jesus. I hurt you.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not! I went too far. Shit!” His face shifted from concerned to panic in the snap of a finger. His hands trembled as he jammed them into his hair. He looked around for something for me to clean up with. He dressed quickly, then ran out into the living room wher
e the supplies were.

  When he came back in, his eyes graying. He handed me tissues and a selection of girly products.

  “I’m not sure if this is what you need.” He stood in front of me, terrified.

  “It’s fine. Relax. Just sit and relax.” He sat on the bed, facing the wall, for which I was thankful. Even though we had shared so much together, I didn’t want him watching me clean up.

  “No. I can’t relax,” he grumbled, starting to tweak out. “I’m feeling it.”

  “Go get your pack then.” He ran out again. I finished cleaning up, dressing as he came back in. I sat against the headboard, and he began a draw for a bag. He paced back and forth, pulling at his hair, cussing.

  “I’m sorry, Elaina. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I will never forgive myself if I hurt you.”

  “Henry, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. Sometimes stuff like that happens.” His pacing grew quicker by the second. It was driving me batshit crazy.

  “No, I hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to hurt like me.”

  “Henry, you have to calm down. Yes, it hurt, but I wanted it to. It’s my fault for telling you to do it that way.”

  “I don’t want you to hurt because of me. I’ve caused you enough pain as it is.” He was still running his hands through his hair.

  “Henry.” He continued his pacing. “Henry Daniels!” I yelled. He stopped in his tracks. “You sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!” I snapped at him.

  He cleared his throat, then slowly sat at the end of the bed with his back to me, his head in his hands.

  “Come up here.” I spoke gentler than before. He looked at me over his shoulder, his eyes gray and watery. “Henry… Please come here.” He got up and walked to the side of the bed and sat. He slid up against the headboard next to me.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked while looking down, fiddling with the blankets.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” I kissed his cheek. He shyly smiled. “If you want to be upset, be upset with me.” He licked his lips and looked at me. I smiled.

  He leaned back and relaxed a little, waiting for his fix, drumming his fingers on his knees. I wanted to yell at him to stop, but he was emotionally weak, and any more yelling could set him off. So I decided to suck it up and deal with his quirkiness for the moment.