I dug my fingers into his buttocks, and he gasped, sucking air through his teeth. “Suck me, hard—Christ, you’re so good at this.”
He slowed down and pumped methodically. His crystal blue gaze followed every lick of my tongue, how my lips moved over his throbbing penis.
I grabbed his ass and sent the head to the back of my throat.
“God, yes—” He reached into my hair. “You’re making me come,” Gorgeous strong facial features twisted and contorted, hips thrust faster, deeper. “Fuck—don’t stop, Lizzy.”
I swallowed all the hot, spurting semen he had in him, as he coaxed out a last twinge of pleasure. With his eyes closed and his face relaxed, I was able to catch a glimpse of the boyish, vulnerable Chris Oakley.
I sat back on my heels and waited for him to recover. He gulped in humid air and exhaled. “That was fucking amazing.”
I smiled up at him, kissing the tip of his cock, which remained impressive in length, breadth, and hardness.
Chris reached down and pulled me up against him. “Christ, Lizzy, the more we fuck, the more I want you.”
I rose up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips. “I feel the same way.” I grabbed his T-shirt and dried him off.
The moment he stepped out of the tub, he began to undress me with his eyes. “In case you’re worried, Ivan Ivanovich won’t be back for hours. Once he’s out on the road, he’s going to forget where he’s going.” Chris hung his damp tee shirt up to dry.
Black site. Black humor.
“He’s definitely got short-term memory issues.” I agreed.
His fingers hooked into my belt loops. “So I’m going to take this bath slow. So slow you’re going to beg for faster, harder. And I’m not going to stop until I get a screaming orgasm out of you.”
He unzipped my fatigues, brushing the sensitive places between my thighs. His fingers lingered under my panties, teasing me before he pulled them down.
I almost always wore my hair in a ponytail, which I double-looped into a messy bun. When on-call at the hospital, I could wash up, jump into scrubs and tie back my hair in less than two minutes flat.
In contrast, Chris slowly pulled the elastic from my hair and brought strands of light brown hair forward, over my shoulders.
He took his time with my breasts, but avoided my nipples. Then he washed between my thighs until my knees trembled. He toyed with my erogenous zones, building my arousal by never touching the hot spots—the ones that might rocket me into orgasm.
“This is torture.” I gasped.
“We’re in the right place for it.”
Primal urges simmered in my belly as he lifted me out of the tub, and lay me down on the concrete slab that he’d covered with his shirt. My body vibrated to an exciting new rhythm. I wanted him to explore, make demands, and I would assume any position he asked for.
He pulled a faded bandana out of his fatigues. “Wrists together.”
I angled up on my elbows. “What are you going to do?” Breathless and slightly apprehensive, I was also excited and curious.
“This is about trust, Lizzy. And you need to learn to obey orders.”
My gaze swept over a curve of groin muscle that angled down to an impressive erection. No penis should be that ready to rock after coming so hard.
“Arms above your head.” He wrapped the scarf around my wrists and tied the ends of the bandana to a ring that hung from the wall behind me. “Too tight?”
I tested the bindings. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He stood by the side of the bed, tall and domineering. “I want to see your belly tremble.”
He leaned over me and blew warm air over my breasts, chasing off beads of water. My nipples ruched-up hard, aching for his lips, the lick of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth on my flesh. His exhale skimmed my torso as he slowed his descent and hovered over my bellybutton.
I shuddered in anticipation of his tongue.
“Outstanding, Lizzy.” He licked his way down my trembling belly, brushing his scratchy chin against my pussy. He made eye contact. “Is there a g-spot I should get to know?”
I tried not to smile. “Yes.”
His pupils dilated, deepening those beautiful eyes. “Open wide.”
Bending my legs at the knee, he inserted a finger into my vagina. “Look at you, all pink and ready for me.” He added another finger, curling both digits forward.
“Right there.” I gasped, as a surge of pleasure washed through me. His fingers massaged the spot and I sucked in air as he primed me for sex.
“More?” he asked.
Arousal skyrocketing, I moaned my go-ahead.
The gleam in his eyes teased, as he withdrew his fingers and rummaged around in his fatigues. He brought out a small tin the size of an ammo magazine.
“Condoms?”
He shook his head. “I carry this junk around just in case.” He removed two paperclips. “I went through SERE training two years ago—fucking brutal survival school in Colorado. There are many uses for these—lock picks, emergency fish hooks, clamping arteries, but I was thinking…nipples.”
Another rush of naughty desire rippled through me. He sat down and circled each areola, plucking my nipples, rolling them between his fingers so he could attach the clip. “More or less?”
My body vibrated with tingly, prickly arousal. “Just right—for now.” He gave one of the clips a playful tug, and I sucked air through my teeth.
He stood at the end of the concrete slab and stroked himself as if he were sharpening a sword. Everything about him aroused me, especially his gorgeous cock, and the way he ravaged me with his gaze.
I tugged at my bindings. I wanted to hold him, touch him, but I had been captured and restrained.
He crawled over me. “Suck it—get me harder.” He worked the head into my mouth, and pushed in slow. I swirled my tongue around the shaft, chasing a pale blue vein up his growing erection.
Chris groaned his approval.
His gentle, persistent domination excited me. I had never felt anything close to this level of sexual possession, submission, and arousal.
With each new demand—each tug at a paperclip—my belly quivered and my heart pounded out the need for an orgasm. The simple discipline of making me wait for my pleasure had rocketed my desire to intense new levels.
“This body, your sweet pussy, is mine.” When his fingers finally brushed over my clit and massaged, my entire body nearly exploded from the promise and the threat of Chris Oakley.
“As long as I own you.” I moaned.
He slipped two digits inside me. “You’ve got me, baby.” He withdrew his fingers, and smeared the slick lubricant onto himself. He pushed in one inch at a time—until throbbing hard flesh met slick hot flesh.
“Oh God yes,” I gasped, as my hips answered his, and we found a rhythm that pleased us both.
Chris asked more of me sexually than any man I’d ever been with. He also gave more pleasure than I’d ever experienced. Reaching under my knees, he lifted my legs over his shoulders. “This should feel even better.”
He angled his cock so that he stroked my g-spot, thrusting deeper and faster—demanding my surrender, my arousal, my climax.
“Christ, Lizzy, I’m ready to come again.”
His words alone gave me permission to let go. A crescendo of raw sensation broke over me. “Holy fucking Christ, I’m coming.” My vaginal walls contracted as the swell of orgasm peaked and crashed over me.
Chris crumpled into my body, his groan deep and guttural. Even as hot cum shot into me, he reached up and off came the clips. Sensual pain mingled with raw, primal pleasure, as blood returned to my nipples.
Small aftershocks rippled through my body. He held on tight as my sense of surrender and trust in this man—my lover—nearly overwhelmed me.
A tear ran down my cheek, which he sweetly wiped away.
He uttered a soft grunt of satisfaction and wrapped himself around me.
I studied the rise and f
all of his chest from my post-orgasmic stupor. I even managed a tease. “Aren’t you the clever one with paperclips.”
He reached overhead and untied me. “That is because…” He brushed a kiss over my lips. “You inspire me.” Holding my wrists between his hands, he rubbed the circulation back into my fingers. “Better?”
I rolled into the hollow of his arm and lay my head on his shoulder. “Much.”
My index finger followed a trail of fuzz down his belly. It felt amazing to touch him again. Stroke his stomach, toy with manly chest hair, listen to his strong heart—his inhale and exhale.
We drifted in and out of sleep unable to fully surrender to the bliss of unconsciousness. Not with a tortured creature like Ivan Ivanovich on the loose. The man was teetering on the edge of alive and extremely dangerous.
I wondered how many partial zombies there were out there. Somehow, the z-virus had been interrupted in Ivan. Had his body reached some kind of stasis, or was the bug lying dormant, waiting to finish the job?
I stared absently at the hole in the ceiling. A crisscross of rebar poked out of the ragged, broken-up concrete. Many of the steel rods were twisted or severed.
I sat up with a jerk.
Chris opened an eye. “What is it, baby?”
I swung my legs over the side of our cell bed. “How much weight can you bench press?” I pulled my T-shirt on.
“Too tired to fuck me on top?” His voice husky, half-asleep.
“Do you still have that nylon rope ladder?”
He squinted at me. “I think so, why?”
Chapter Eight
I GAZED UP into a tangle of steel rods and crumbling concrete. Nothing but blue sky and a few lingering clouds. “Storm’s passed.” After a quick examination of the blast hole, I was even more convinced. “If I stand on your shoulders, I think I can hook the ladder over the rebar.”
“Like we’re a Cirque du Soleil act.” His shot me the kind of wolfish once-over that gives a semi-naked girl confidence.
“Pay attention. Captain.”
He stared at my ass as he pulled on skivvies. “Naked booty distracts me.”
“Once we’re hooked on, you pull on the ladder and bend the rebar back. Assuming the ropes hold, I climb out of here.”
Chis studied the hole in the ceiling. “Let’s try it.” He pushed the washtub out of the way and fished the ladder out of his jacket.
We both dressed in a hurry.
“Leave your boots off, and stand on the bed.” Chris backed up and I easily climbed onto his shoulders.
“Get us over to the cell bars.” I tucked a leg under me and grabbed the bars to help me balance. “Fuck. I don’t believe I’m standing on your shoulders.”
“Trust me,” he gasped, “you’re standing on my shoulders.”
He adjusted his grip and slowly turned toward the hole in the ceiling. “Once I start toward the middle of the cell, you won’t have anything to help you balance. I’m going to walk fast, so get ready to toss the rope.”
“Try to stay under me in case my pathetic upper body strength gives out.”
Our first two attempts failed. Both times the ladder didn’t hook onto the rebar. And both times, he caught me as I fell.
“All right, one more try.” I climbed back onto his shoulders.
“Do or do not, Lizzy, there is no try.” He straightened beneath me.
“Really, Chris—fucking Yoda wisdom?” I swung the rope ladder over the rebar and it caught in a snarl of broken and bent rods.
I was able to hang onto the ladder and lower myself down.
“Hold on, I have an idea.” He climbed on behind me. “Bend your knees and bounce with me.” The gentle force of each bounce caused the bars to bend, and in no time there was an opening large enough for me to crawl through.
I rubbed up against him. “You paid attention in physics class.”
He dropped to the floor. “Once you’re up there, tie the ladder to those other two rods.”
I pulled myself up into a web of rebar and broken concrete. From there, it was an easy climb to solid ground. I rolled onto my back and caught my breath. Rays of sunlight peeked through scattered clouds. Far, far in the distance, thunder rumbled over the desert.
Chris whooped from below. “Outstanding, Lizzy!”
I poked my head over the edge. “Pretty cool huh?”
“You’re a fucking escape artist. Get me out of here.”
I moved the ladder and he bent more rods. Once the opening was large enough for him to crawl through, he tossed up flack jackets and boots.
For a crazy agonizing minute, anxious thoughts made my heart pound. Fleeting images of the ropes fraying and snapping. Ivan leaping up out of nowhere and dragging Chris down. I held my breath as he climbed out of the pit from hell.
The moment he was safely above ground, I crawled onto his lap and kissed him. Nose, chin, eyelids, mouth.
“Okay, okay—” he laughed.
Holding my face in his hands, he stared long enough to count the freckles on my nose. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You’re making me like you again.” This time, there was a flash of affectionate surrender in his eyes.
I fully understand that too much caring is a dangerous thing in any war zone. Risk plays an important role in survival. Playing it too safe to protect a loved one can have dire consequences.
I slid a stealthy look in his direction. “It’s too late. We already care about each other.”
His gaze shifted away.
“And don’t hold back, Chris—be a warrior. Do what you have to do to get us to K1. I promise I’ll follow orders.”
His gaze returned. “Like hell you will.” We sat there tangled up in each other’s arms for a sweet, short eternity.
Chris eased back and helped me up. “The storm’s moved on, so should we.”
I pulled on socks and boots while he organized our gear. “I’m betting zombie-man has more vehicles stored in the garage with full gas tanks.”
I stared at him. “I’m not going back down there. What if he returns?” I spun around. “Fuck, our helmets are in the cell block.”
“Who knows what else we’ll find down there—rations, guns, ammo?” His expression turned serious. “If he comes back, I’ll kill him.”
My mouth fell open. I suppose I was shocked that Chris—my Chris—could speak so casually about ending a man’s life.
“Come on, Lizzy, the man’s practically a zombie.” Chris made eye contact. “I’d be doing him a favor.”
I sighed. “We get in and out, no fooling around.”
He yanked me against his groin with a bump. “Maybe a little fooling around.”
We poked around the blast holes made by bunker buster bombs until we found the large crater that led into the black site. We slid through the pile of rubble and retraced our steps to the cell block and our helmets.
“Ivan took off in this direction.” Chris led the way. The further into the underground facility we walked, the darker it became. As our pupils adjusted, we found a curved ramp that spiraled downward.
Quiet and clean. No sign of bomb damage on the lower level.
A tidy row of Mercedes and BMWs angled into a concrete wall. I flashed on the shopping mall parking structure back home. The opening and closing of car doors echoed as Chris searched for keys. “I’m going to have to hot wire one of these.”
“You know how to hot wire a car?”
He pulled a knife from inside his flack jacket. “Ivan’s got to be losing his mind—crazy fucker didn’t even search us.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt us. Maybe he just wants to keep us here.”
Chris stared at me. “That’s even worse.”
I snorted a laugh.
He used the tip of his knife to pry the ignition switch out of the steering column. “Phase three SERE training is more than just drinking live chicken blood, hell-on-earth torture resistance, and—”
“Sick and twi
sty things to do with paperclips.” I added a smirk.
Sparks flashed as he struck two wires together. “Stick with me baby—I know a few more survival tricks.”
“Can’t wait.”
In less than a minute, he’d started the car.
“Full tank?” I asked.
He checked the dashboard and smiled. “Before I put the pedal to the metal, I want to check that out. He nodded toward a plain metal door at the end of the garage.
Chris broke the lock with a tire iron, and stepped back. When nothing sprang out at us, we crept forward. It didn’t take long to realize what we’d discovered. “Jeezus—it’s the fucking ordnance room.”
I gazed at a wall full of automatic rifles. Boxes of ammo—everywhere. Chris opened a large molded case on the floor. “Anti-armor rocket launcher—complete with rockets.”
Chris dragged the case out of the arsenal, and I helped him lift it into the trunk of the car. We piled guns, magazines and ammo on top and closed the lid.
He tossed an M4 and extra mags onto the back seat. “There’s bound to be more supplies around.”
I slanted warning eyes. “Two minutes—then we go.”
Chris revved the engine. “Hop in, baby doll, let’s go for a spin.” He stepped on the gas and peeled out. Winding up through the garage, he stopped the car just past the interrogation room.
“We check these rooms out, then we’re outta here.” He borrowed my Maglite and opened the door.
“Christ, will you look at all this stuff?” My jaw dropped and I turned in circles.
Enough rations to keep the zombie lord alive for years. And clothes. I grabbed tee shirts and skivvies for both of us. And clean socks—I almost cried.
Chris stacked boxes of rations in the back seat and I tossed in clothes. “One last look?” he asked.
“Then we’re out of here.”
Chris pried open a thick plastic box, and a low whistle brought me to his side. Gleaming amber bottles nestled in tidy rows. Each container was capped, and had a handle attached to it.
“What are those things?” I asked.
“Bunker buster grenades.” He lifted one out of the box. “It’s an explosive incendiary device. They burn at temperatures of nearly 4,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Designed for destroying weapons caches, bunkers, armored vehicles.”
EAT, SLAY, LUZT: A sexy wild ride through the dark heart of the zombie apocalypse. Page 7
