by Skye Jones
“You’ve done some shitty things, Jackson, but despite it all, I still want you, and that makes you kind of unique as there aren’t many other men I want…well, except for…I mean, well…” I trailed off. I wanted all of them. Jackson the most, but the others were under my skin, too. I didn’t know how to put it into words. But outside of this house, of these men, I didn’t find anyone particularly attractive.
“It’s okay,” he laughed against my neck. “I get it.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind? I like it. Feels right.”
Oh, okay. “Then make it so your superiors don’t want me. Chris, or his men either. Take this stupid title away and one of the reasons idiotic men seem to be salivating over me is gone. I’m probably not fertile either; we both remember when Doc said I probably wasn’t.”
Doc said he needed to run more tests, and had taken more blood but not mentioned it since. From what he’d seen at the compound I already knew my fertility was questionable at best. Not sure how the hell I felt about that issue on top of everything else, I kept pushing it away.
“Do something about it, Jackson,” I teased softly.
He groaned. “Honey, I want to more than anything, but I don’t want to do it when you’re not feeling it, simply so you feel safe. I can keep you safe.”
Nervous, but needing to let him know what he did to me, I took hold of one of his hands and slid it farther under the water between my legs. I parted my folds and let him feel me there. The slickness would surely feel different than the water.
“Milly,” he breathed out.
“Why don’t we get out of this bath and do something about getting rid of a tag I don’t want anymore?” I asked him.
As I’d suspected—hoped—it didn’t take me asking for long before that warrior side of him was ignited.
He stood, pulled the plug on the tub, and stepped out, then he turned to me and lifted me into his arms. We were dripping wet as he walked us from the bathroom into the bedroom. He didn’t seem to care. Reaching the huge bed, he placed me on it, wet skin and all, and then climbed on top of me.
His amber eyes positively burned. His hunger became a living, breathing thing, filling the space with a sense of something pulling at me. It ebbed and flowed like a heartbeat, and I swore I could have almost reached out and touched it if I weren’t trapped beneath this huge male.
He dipped his head and licked a drop of water from between my breasts. I stared down at him as he repeated this exercise and then began to drink from my skin, kissing, sucking, and licking at the beads of water decorating me.
“I’m aching for you, Milly,” he said. “I’m going to be fucking gentle though.”
I didn’t argue. I hardly wanted him to ram into me the first time, the guy was well endowed, and I wasn’t an idiot. I didn’t want to end up torn.
“Okay,” I breathed, voice husky.
His kisses were heading lower, and when he reached my belly I gave a gasp as his warm lips found my cooling skin. He kissed my stomach reverentially as if he worshipped me. I’d never have guessed this big, brash male could be so gentle.
After thoroughly covering every inch of my stomach, he moved lower again, and with a nudge of his shoulders, parted my thighs.
Looking up and giving me a wicked grin, he bent his dark head to my pale skin and kissed me there. Right at my core.
As he licked at me, my legs tensed, and I found myself trying to stop the sensations overwhelming me. It all seemed too much. Before, when we’d done this in the bathroom, there’d been a strange sense of otherworldliness, but now this was real. I was right there with him, and it scared me.
“Baby, relax. Let me take care of you,” Jackson said.
I found it hard to relax, but it also became impossible to resist what he did to me as he flicked his tongue expertly over my aching bud. Fast flicks side to side alternated with soft sucks at my swollen flesh soon had me panting and my legs shaking. I fell over the edge with a cry, my hands digging into the bedspread either side of us.
Jackson lifted himself up, crawling up my body and kissing my skin as he went, until I felt his hard length at my entrance.
“Are you sure?” he asked me.
I nodded, mouth dry and nerves jangling.
“Baby, I’ll make it good for you, but we don’t have to do this.”
“I want to, I’m just scared.”
“It shouldn’t hurt too bad, not if you’re all relaxed.”
“I’m not scared of the physical pain,” I told him.
His eyes darkened, and some of that scary hunger was banked behind something softer. “You and me both,” he said.
Really? He was scared of this too? I wasn’t in this alone. The strange and frightening connection we had through our dreams made the whole thing more somehow. Deeper.
He kissed me, deep and wet and slow. When he broke away, his mouth was parted. “You scare the hell out of me, Milly.”
Those words did it. They gave me all I needed, and I parted my legs some more and hitched my hips up. Jackson sucked in a breath and gave a tiny push forward.
He entered me, and I gasped at the sensation. It didn’t hurt; it felt good. Really good. I wanted more. I hitched my hips again and grabbed at him pulling him into me.
“Babe,” he murmured the warning the second the pain hit.
Oh, crap. It hurt. I’d pulled him quite some way into me, and the pleasure had turned into a tight, burning sensation.
“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, kissing my cheek then my neck.
I did. I breathed and relaxed some and as I did so, Jackson gave a series of small thrusts, not pushing in as such, but moving incremental amounts inside me. He lowered his hand between our legs and found my swollen clit.
He circled my clit, pushed into me, and then he began to kiss me. Really kiss me, he took my mouth and claimed me as his.
The pain morphed into something else. There was still some discomfort, but it was overshadowed by the pleasure building. A new sensation, a deeper one took hold. I experienced an almost desperate need to chase the release I sensed right around the corner. I began to move in time with Jackson, meeting his thrusts as they gained in strength.
We moved together, were in this together. It overwhelmed me, both physically and emotionally.
My head twisted from side to side. “Oh, God.”
I was going to fall over that edge, find that release, and I’d never be the same again.
When it came it was so strong I cried out, loud and unable to stop it.
“Fuck,” Jackson cursed and then joined me, spilling hot inside me; his coordination gone now, thrusts harsher.
When it ended, we lay together, not moving, only breathing hard. Jackson supported some of his weight on his arms, but he still had his body against mine. Skin to sweat-soaked skin, we remained touching.
I didn’t know how to parse what had happened. I could only speak for myself, but it didn’t feel like mere sex, like a basic fuck; it felt as if he’d made love to me.
“Fuck, Milly. You’re it.”
It? What did he mean?
“I think I knew all along, but you’re it.”
It? The one who could do what he wanted? About to ask what he meant, I didn’t get a chance because the door burst open and Doc stood there, breathing heavy, his eyes wild.
He took us in, and for a moment I felt bad, but he didn’t seem pissed off, or even that surprised. “You two better get dressed. We’ve got company of the foaming variety.”
Chapter Two
Milly: Fight the good fight.
My heart hammered. I’d never been up close and personal with a Foamer before. I’d seen them from a distance, and once too close for comfort when we were driving outside the compound on a supply run that Dad had allowed me to tag along on. However, Doc’s urgent demeanor made me think they were on the grounds or maybe in the house.
But they couldn’t be in the house. The only way in was through broken windows, an
d they were up high. Ferals might be a danger as far as windows went, but not Foamers. Those uncoordinated, half-ravaged freakshows didn’t have the coordination to climb up ivy or a drainpipe. Did they?
“How many?” Jackson was already on his feet and grabbing at clothes laid over a chair; not the ones he’d worn earlier, which were still in the bathroom.
“Only two. But they are in the house.”
“What?” Jackson turned his head and stared at Doc. “In the fucking house?”
“Yep. Must have climbed up the ivy and got in through the broken windows. I don’t like it, you know.” Doc paused and shook his head, talking as we rushed to get dressed. “I’m sure they’ve altered the fucking virus beyond any modifications we’ve seen before, made the bastards more intelligent. We’ve not had to worry too much about those windows before because Foamers wouldn’t have worked out how to get in easily. Ferals could, but until we had Milly here, none of us were too concerned about them, but how the hell did those brain dead Foamers figure out how to climb up and in through broken windows? They’re evolving.”
A pang of guilt hit.
I’d basically ensured I couldn’t do whatever it was that Jackson’s superiors wanted me to do with the virgin loving government official, and now I wasn’t convinced that was such a good thing. My own family would be at risk if these fuckers overran us all.
Jackson sighed as he pulled trousers over thickly corded thighs. The man painted an impressive picture, and despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help but take a good look.
It seemed my libido had been let loose and she was determined to have a good time, make up for all the years of good-girl behavior. Maybe if I did the thing with the old dude, I could lie back and think of Jackson instead of lying back and thinking of England? Except, even contemplating it seemed like a betrayal and made my heart ache.
Jackson reached into a drawer near the bed and pulled out two massive knives, drawing me out of my funk, which he strapped to his cargo pants blades down. Then he put on a muscle vest, took a gun out of the same drawer and placed that behind his back, in the waistband of his jeans.
“You tooled up?” he asked Doc.
Doc gave a slight maniacal grin and lifted his t-shirt to reveal a machete strapped over his chest.
“What about me?” I stood, ignoring my nudity and Doc’s heated gaze.
He sniffed the air then turned to Jackson and said, “You’ve done the deed?”
Jackson grunted, and my heart sank. Done the deed? Done the fucking deed?
My post-coital glow dimmed instantly at the way Doc asked the question, casual, almost harsh.
I put a hand on my hip, glared at Doc and then turned to fix Jackson with a deadly stare too. “What the hell do you mean, done the deed?”
“Keep your panties on.” Doc smirked. “I merely meant that Jackson had clearly welcomed you properly to the family.”
“Quit teasing her, Doc; she’s taking it seriously,” Jackson snapped. “I can see the cogs turning.”
“Here.” Jackson threw one of his t-shits my way. “You need to lock the door as soon as I leave, okay?” I shook my head, and his expression turned thunderous. “Don’t argue with me on this one, babe.”
Babe? Ugh. Baby I liked. Babe flat out irritated me. I faced him fully and in doing so gave Doc my backside, and he let out a stifled groan.
“You keep it up with the show, beautiful, and we’ll be overrun because I’ll be too busy to care,” he said.
“I don’t want to stay here,” I told Jackson, ignoring Doc and pulling a tee on.
“Not up for discussion. It’s not safe for you to be out there.”
I didn’t feel safe stuck in this room, locked in. I would feel safe next to Jackson and Doc, even if there were Foamers around. “I’m scared to be here alone,” I whispered, rushing to get dressed. “I’ll be safer with you than here where who knows what could happen to me if one of them got in.”
Jackson’s face turned thoughtful. “Okay. But don’t try anything heroic.”
I nodded and pulled my trousers on.
We headed out the door to where the corridor branched off. They took the turn and crept along the hallway, making hardly any noise at all. I made more than the two hulking men, and it amazed me how they could be quiet with their weight and build.
“Thank fuck. Thought I was about to face off with these motherfuckers alone.” Ben stood in the center of the corridor, two bedraggled Foamers about ten feet from him. They snapped and snarled at him, but weren’t moving forward.
“Some of them seem to sense what we are and get all cautious and shit,” Ben told me with a brief glance.
I stayed back and watched as the men advanced on the two Foamers. One looked male, one female, but it wasn’t always easy to tell because they hardly had any defining characteristics anymore. I thought one was female as she seemed to have breasts on her skinny frame, but I couldn’t be sure with the ratty, bedraggled t-shirt she wore making it hard to tell. Both possessed mid-length greasy strands of hair, and sallow, sunken faces. Their eyes were horrible, huge in their heads, but milky-grey colored. Not a color you saw on healthy folks. Maybe they were the undead?
Ben and Doc advanced on them, but Jackson hung back, guarding me.
Doc pulled his machete from under his t-shirt, and Ben wielded what looked like a cricket bat.
The Foamers made the strange whining cries that haunted our nights in the compound as they roamed the wilderness outside. They did it once more, one right after the other, and then they rushed the guys. Ben swung at the female looking one, and she went down.
The other screamed and rushed at Doc, who raised his machete and embedded it right in the thing’s skull. I bent double, gasping for air and trying hard not to be sick.
At least they were dispatched, dealt with.
As I straightened, another screaming wail rented the air, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end at the weird, ancient sound.
Foamers were new to this world, but the noises they made were elemental, as if they’d sprung from the oldest rocks to walk the earth.
Four more raced around the corner. These were in less of a state than the others, more meat on their bones, and two still foamed at the mouth, which meant they were newly infected.
Two of them took Ben to the floor, one went for Doc, but one rushed right at me. Jackson turned, pulled his knife, and swung. The thing danced, fucking danced, out of the way. All Michael Jackson in the Thriller video style; it was that nimble on its toes. How, I did not know, because I thought they were meant to be slower than humans. Not slow, slow, like zombies in movies, but not nimble fuckers.
Jackson turned too, but he was focused on me, on keeping me safe, and the thing took advantage. With a scream, it dodged the knife and opened it’s horrible, spittle-covered jaw, and lunged at Jackson.
Time seemed to slow. I glanced around and saw a huge candlestick on the table to my right. Not even pausing to think, I grabbed it and swung wildly at the creature snapping at Jackson’s face.
It hit with a sickening crunch as brass met bone. The thing’s head caved in, and the candlestick got stuck. I had to let go.
Jackson pulled away, swung the knife up and out in an arc, slitting the Foamer’s throat instantly.
It fell to the floor gurgling, and I bent over once more, catching my breath.
Ben and Doc had put down the others, and the corridor was finally empty of any snapping, snarling creatures.
They stank though, the ones laid about not moving or gurgling, stunk like the worst cesspit.
Doc and Ben strode toward us, and Jackson grabbed me by the shoulders.
“You put yourself at risk,” he snapped.
My temper rose. How dare he? “I saved you!” I shouted at him.
“I told you not to get involved,” he replied. He wasn’t shouting, but his voice was raised. “You could have been hurt or killed.”
“So could you.”
&nbs
p; “You’re forgetting that they can’t give me the virus, and it’s hard to kill me.”
“Yes, but it was going for your pretty face,” I told him. “I can’t have you all eaten up on one side. You’re far too beautiful for that.”
Doc burst out laughing and Ben chuckled, shaking his head.
“She’s a fucking firecracker this one, boss,” Ben said as he passed Jackson. “I’ll go get some bags and clean-up supplies.”
“And stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” I added.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben said with a tap to his forehead as if he were doffing a cap.
A surge of something new roared to life inside me, lighting up all my dark, scared places. I’d acted, done something monumentally brave for me; a girl who’d never been within touching distance of a Foamer before. And I did it because someone mattered to me. Really mattered.
My fear in that moment wasn’t for myself, but for Jackson, and I acted without thinking. In doing so, I was strong, not the useless girl everyone wanted for her virginity but someone who could fight, and it felt glorious.
It took us ages to clear up the mess, and the guys did most of it, which I was grateful for because I kept stopping to gag every few minutes. The stench was unreal.
Now I’d seen them up close and personal, my dad’s definition of the Foamers as nothing more than virus-riddled humans seemed somewhat ridiculous. These things were weird. Not like zombies from movies, half-decayed shuffling corpses, but certainly un-human.
“So… what are they then?” I asked Doc as we threw the last of the refuse sacks in the bin.
“Dunno,” he shrugged, “human with added viral shit, including vamp DNA, if we’re right. I think they’re alive because you can kill them, but somehow altered. In a similar way to us I suppose, but instead of using gene therapy, they used biological warfare.”
He seemed sad, downbeat.
“They’re nothing like you,” I told him with a shudder, meaning every word.
Jackson and Ben rounded the corner as we stepped back into the main kitchen area from the small porch that held all the trash cans.
