“Where do we go now?”
“We should find a place to hide for the night. Someplace they won’t think to look.”
Emily thought hard. Pretty much any building she’d ever been to before should be avoided. Ditto any hospital, since they had to know by now she was a nurse.
“I need to bathe, Mason,” she said softly. “I feel… dirty. I have to wash off the blood.” Looking closely at her skin, she could see speckles of dried blood all over. It was horrible.
“Okay,” Mason said. “We’ll find you a bath.”
* * *
Emily looked up at Le Parker Meridien Hotel on West Fifty-Sixth Street. “I heard they have a pool. Maybe I can bathe in that.”
“Only one way to find out.” Mason put his arm out to her like a gentleman in an old-fashioned movie, and Emily laughed, feeling silly as she took it.
The lobby had been vandalized and scavenged like every other building in the area. The words “The Meek Shall Inherit” were scrawled across one wall in spray paint. A philosophical graffiti artist, she mused.
They stepped over broken glass to get to the door that led to the back stairs.
The stairwells were dark as they ascended to the upper levels. Only the sounds of their footsteps and their breath broke the silence.
Mason swung open the door to the pool. Moonlight shone in through the large glass windows on the far side of the pool area.
The walls, Emily could see, were a dark wood paneling that looked sort of retro-modern. White chaise lounges spread out all over the place as if at any moment the hotel would be open again for business, and tourists with money to burn would be lounging by the poolside.
The pool, after a year of neglect, smelled disgusting. Thick algae created a scummy layer over the once chlorinated pool water.
“So much for my bath,” Emily said with dismay.
“I said you were going to get your bath, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” Mason said. “I need a bucket.”
“The rooms probably have ice buckets,” she suggested.
“Let’s find a room.”
* * *
Mason opened a room door down the hall. It wouldn’t be the easiest to get to from the pool area, but it wouldn’t be the first room someone would look in either, in case anyone did come looking.
They hadn’t left a trail, and no one had followed them—Mason had made sure of that. They should be safe for the night at the hotel.
The rooms on the upper levels hadn’t been trashed, probably because the looters were in a rush and unwilling to climb that many flights of stairs. He opened the bathroom door and grinned when he saw the bathtub and big fluffy bathrobes. “Don’t put that on yet—you’re going to want to wait until you’re completely clean.”
“I don’t think I’ve been completely clean since before the Pulse,” Emily laughed.
“Look—little mini shampoo bottles. Soap.”
“But no water.”
Mason grinned. “This is gonna involve some heavy lifting. Why don’t you gather some towels, and I’ll get some buckets of pool water.”
Emily shook her head. “What, I can’t do heavy lifting? I’ll help you carry water. It’ll be quicker that way.”
She must really want to get clean, Mason thought. He didn’t believe her when she said no one touched her. She acted like Stephanie had, after… Mason shook his head. No use thinking about that now.
They gathered two ice buckets of water each and carried them back to the room, sloshing scummy water over the sides of the buckets onto the expensive carpet. Just as Emily was about to pour the water into the bath, Mason stopped her.
“Wait,” he said. “I’ll hold a towel, you pour the water through the towel. It will filter it.”
Emily smiled. “That’s smart.” Pouring the green water over the white towel Mason held taut over the tub, she laughed excitedly as the water that went into the tub came through basically clear.
“It’s not drinkable, so don’t get it in your mouth,” Mason warned.
“Let’s get more,” Emily said. “We can have a full bathtub!”
Four trips to the pool and back, and Emily had her full bath. The water was room temperature, even slightly chilly, but she didn’t seem to care. Stripping out of her filthy clothes, she sank into the tub.
“Pass me one of those bad boys, will you?” she asked, gesturing to the mini shampoo bottles.
Instead, Mason poured some shampoo into his own hands and lathered up her hair. Blood rinsed out of the hair into the water.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, concerned.
“Not my blood,” she murmured, her eyes closed as he continued massaging her scalp, working the flowery-scented shampoo through her brunette strands.
“You did what you had to do,” he said.
She didn’t respond.
Mason ran his sudsy hands over her shoulders, down her arms, gently massaging her muscles as he washed away the grit and grime and blood.
He wished he could wash away her bad feelings as easily.
“Soap, please,” she said, sticking her hand out. He unwrapped a very thin bar of citrus-smelling bath soap and handed it to her.
She rubbed the bar in circles over her pubic hair, then dipped her fingers between her legs, washing herself carefully—though Mason couldn’t see exactly what she was doing since she lay on her back.
Watching her touch herself—even though all she did was wash—made his cock twitch in his pants. He wanted to be clean too. “No rush, take your time. But I wanna bathe when you’re done. I’ll use the same bathwater.”
Emily nodded slowly, her eyes still closed. She looked so much paler now, with all the dirt and soot washed off her face and limbs.
“I’m done.” She stood, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her torso. “Your turn.”
Mason stripped off the dead soldier’s shirt and his own dirty pants, carefully laying his guns on the long white bathroom counter next to where Emily’s gun had been.
“Hey,” he said. “Where’s your gun?”
Already dressed in the fluffy white robe, she patted her pocket, shrugging. “I like having it on me.”
As long as she didn’t accidentally shoot him, he had no problem with that.
Mason squeezed the contents of another shampoo bottle into his hands and made quick work of lathering himself up, making sure to clean his cock and ass as carefully as Emily had cleaned herself.
Stepping out of the tub, he gratefully took the robe Emily handed him.
“Wow,” she said. “You’re not as tan as I thought you were.”
“I guess a lot of that was dirt.”
Emily smiled and looked down at the bathwater, now a dingy gray. “I’m going to wash our clothes,” she announced. “They can dry overnight.”
“All right,” he agreed. “But I’m getting fresh water.”
“Do you still have to wear that soldier’s outfit?”
Those fucking bastards. If she hadn’t already killed that one he’d have done it himself. And if he ever saw another again, he’d kill him too.
“Not tonight, Em. But I should wear it when we hit the road. It’s like a disguise.”
She nodded, but she touched the garment cautiously, as if it might bite her.
“It’s just a shirt. There are no soldiers here,” Mason said. “And if a soldier does come here, I’ll shoot him.”
“I killed a man, Mason. What was I thinking? I’m going to hell now because I killed a man. There was so much blood…”
Mason wrapped his arms around her. She smelled delicious, but he tamped down his desire so he could comfort her. “You’re not going to hell. You did what you had to do. And I’m—I’m proud of you. You took care of yourself.”
She looked up into his eyes. “I suppose I did. I didn’t think anyone was going to rescue me. I had to save myself.”
“It’s good to be independent. Never depend on anyone. You gotta look out for yourself, and that’s w
hat you did.”
“That’s what you do,” Emily said softly, “huh.”
“I work best alone. It’s how I’ve always been, and how I’ll probably always be.”
Later, as Emily hung the freshly washed and wrung-out clothes on the shower bar in the hotel bathroom, she reflected on Mason’s words. He was proud of her for killing her attacker, because she had to look out for herself—because he wouldn’t always be there to save her.
She would be alone, and he would be alone—somewhere else.
Why did that wrench her gut so much?
How would she escape the city without his help? No—he had no place in the city to stay for anymore. His home had been compromised. So he could go with her.
But he didn’t know where they’d escape to, or what it would be like. At least they both knew the city well, harsh as it was.
What might be out there, outside the island of Manhattan?
Tomorrow, Emily promised herself, she’d find out. She’d walk all day if she had to—she was going to cross the bridge off the island and start heading north. Crops could very well be rotting in a field somewhere—perfectly good food—simply for lack of people to harvest and then no trucks to ship stuff.
She imagined walking through a cornfield, the stalks growing higher than her head. The thought calmed her somehow. It felt meditative.
Yes, tomorrow she would get off the island and head upstate. She’d start her new life.
Tonight, she’d do everything in her power to convince Mason to join her.
Her powers of persuasion might be a bit rusty, but she was going to enjoy trying, anyhow, if he was up for it.
Emily opened the bathroom door. Mason lay naked in the middle of the large king-sized bed on top of his robe, the duvet tossed onto the floor. His hands were laced behind his head, and he appeared to be dozing, or thinking. His eyes opened at the sound of her coming out of the bathroom and he stood up quickly.
“I know you had a hard time, being back at Grand Central,” he said, stepping toward her. “So I want you to know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll understand.”
Emily dropped her robe to the floor, the gun making a muffled thud in the pocket as it hit the ground. “I can take care of myself, remember?”
He looked at her naked body with an unbridled lust in his eyes. “I know. Tonight, though—let me take care of you.”
He strode toward her, dropping his robe on the floor as well. His huge muscular chest filled her field of vision as he stepped in close to her, towering over her, smoothing her damp, almost dry hair.
The smell of flowers filled the air as he caressed her cheek, moving her hair off her shoulder.
It feels so good to be clean again.
She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips, opening her mouth against his until he claimed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth, tasting her and letting her taste him.
Dropping his mouth to her neck, he left a trail of nibbling kisses all the way down to her breast before capturing her nipple in his lips, sucking the tight bud.
“You smell incredible,” he breathed. “I’d forgotten how good a woman can smell, and taste.” His tongue darted out past his lips and he licked her slowly, rolling his tongue around her areola.
Reaching around to her other breast, he gently pinched the tight peak in rhythm to the flicks of his mouth on her other nipple, creating a riot of sensation in her breasts. Emily moaned in pleasure, running her hands over his shaggy, still-damp hair. The stubble on his face scratched the delicate skin on her breasts, but she didn’t care.
As he played with her nipples, she slid her hands down his chest, running her hands over his pecs until she found the tight, flat little pebbles that were his nipples. She pinched one experimentally and he gasped.
“Is that okay?” she asked, pinching again.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s definitely okay.”
Licking down his chest, she swirled her tongue around his flat nipple, sucking it into her mouth the way he did with hers. His skin tasted fresh and clean and totally new to her.
Groaning, he lifted her head and kissed her deeply on the mouth, devouring her. She could easily get lost in a kiss like this. All of the horror of the past year melted away. If only he could kiss her forever, she wouldn’t care the world was upside down.
Wouldn’t care that she’d murdered a man. That she was alone with a convicted murderer, when only days ago she had been terrified of him.
Funny how things could change so dramatically, so quickly.
“You’re beautiful, Emily,” he whispered, pulling back and looking at her as if he had never seen her before. She felt her whole body flush and she laughed, averting her eyes from his intense stare.
“Thank you. And thank you for the bath. I feel like I washed off months of grime.”
“My pleasure.”
She wanted to make him happy—wanted to show him how much she appreciated his protection and help. And he looked amazing, so newly scrubbed. Dropping to her knees, she licked her lips, preparing to take his cock in her mouth.
He hardened in anticipation, but suddenly her pulse raced. Her breath came too fast. The world tilted, she felt dizzy.
(if you suck my cock good)
Oh God—she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t suck Mason’s cock—not after what had happened with Andrews. Somehow it felt wrong.
As if Mason could sense something wasn’t right, he pulled her up to standing, hugging her close to him. The feel of his slow, steady heartbeat soothed her, and her breathing returned to normal.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—this afternoon, before I…” Her voice trailed off and she couldn’t continue.
“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I understand.”
The room had stopped tilting. Her panic attack subsided completely. “Thank you.”
“We can just rest, if you want,” he said. “Cuddle up.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to just cuddle, Mason. I still… I still need you.” Emily kissed him. “Please… make me feel good.”
Wrapping his arms under her thighs, he lifted her, cradling her body against his chest. “You smell amazing. I have to see what you taste like now.”
Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Cleaner, I would imagine.”
“You tasted pretty good to me before too. Just so you know.” He dropped her back on the large bed, running his large hands down her breasts, over her belly, and finally to her thighs.
Her pussy clenched in anticipation, but he took his time, kneading her thigh muscles, lightly touching the little hairs covering her legs. He stood by the side of the bed, his muscular body filling her field of vision.
Drawing his fingers down her calves, he held her foot in both hands, gently massaging the sole of her foot, even rubbing between her toes.
“That feels amazing,” she said.
“You have such cute little toes,” he said, planting a little kiss on the top of her pinky toe. “I’m going to do this now, while you’re all clean and fresh.”
Emily lifted her head. “Do what?”
In answer, Mason sucked her toes into his mouth, the wet heat of his mouth on her toes sending pleasurable shock waves through her body. A little nibble and she moaned, as if a cord connected her toes to her pussy, and he strummed it.
He moved to her other foot, licking up the arch, tickling her so much she started to pull her foot away—but he held it in place, licking again before wrapping his lips around her middle toes and sucking. It felt so strange—so unexpected—but so wonderful. No one had ever sucked her toes before. It was intense.
When he left her toes to kiss the sole of her foot again, she giggled uncontrollably at the tickling feeling, jerking her foot back instinctually.
“No, no,” he scolded, holding her ankle hostage in his iron grip. “Breathe through the tickle to get to the pleasure of m
e revving up your nerve endings.”
“Breathe through the tickle?” she gasped as his merciless tongue licked the sole of her foot again. “I can’t, you’re killing me.”
But she closed her eyes and tried to do what he said, focusing on the sensations he provided her, and somehow she was on the verge of orgasm, just from him licking and sucking her feet and toes.
Finally, finally, he spread her legs wide, pulling her toward him by her ankles until her legs fell off the side of the bed. He knelt on the floor between them and placed a little kiss on her upper inner thigh.
Right near her femoral artery. The place she’d sliced open on Andrews just hours before.
Stop it, she thought. He deserved it. Forget Andrews, forget the femoral artery.
Mason’s tongue flicked out and he licked her labia, causing any thought of Andrews to fly out of her mind. He slid one finger deep into her pussy and she moaned as he used his other hand to spread her nether lips, exposing her clit.
He brought his entire mouth down on her pussy, eating her like she was dessert, sucking her clit and nibbling her slick folds. His finger pulsed inside her, feeling her inner crevices, finally tapping her G-spot over and over until she climaxed and released a stream of come over his hand.
He lapped it up like a hungry animal, nearly growling when she tried to push his head away.
“It’s too much,” she moaned, her hands on his long brown hair.
“I’m not done,” he said calmly, and he dove back down, licking her clit with such ferocity that she came again within seconds, the stimulation making her thrash about on the bed like a drowning woman.
Lifting his head, he grinned at her, his lips wet with her juices. “You’re delicious,” he said. “I want more.”
“Oh God, please—” Emily said. “I need you inside me. Fuck me, please, please.”
He stood, and with her lying on her back on the bed, she wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles above his ass so he was as close as she could get him. His huge, hard cock glistened with pre-come.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked.
No need to answer that. Her smile said it all. He thrust his cock inside her, filling her to the hilt as he pounded her again and again. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts, desperate for even more.
The Pulse: Book 1 in the Pulse Trilogy Page 10
