Ultra Strokes

by Delilah Devlin

  I watched him feed himself with his hands, his teeth tearing through the meat like an animal. His hunger still drove him. He might still be infectious. If I wasn’t well and able to care for him, what would happen to us both?

  So I’d stayed away, keeping to my bed, where memories of us lingered. His scent was still on the comforter, and I’d balled it into my arms, wrapped a thigh over the bundle, and pretended I slept beside him, until my dreams had turned to carnal thoughts, and I’d rummaged through the bedside table for my vibrator.

  I was lonely and horny. Depression made me tired as well. The news on the single cable channel still operating offered little hope. I scoured the Internet for the whack job sites, anyone who might offer me a glimmer of hope. Was I the only one who’d fought back? The only one willing to wait out the illness? Was everyone afraid to admit they hid their loved ones, worried they’d be traced?

  A pounding sounded through the house, all the way upstairs. An almost rhythmic banging.

  Afraid the sound might be detected outside as well, I slammed down the stairs, through the house, and into the garage. Weeks of tension and despair coalesced into fury. “Are you crazy?” I shouted, my words reverberating against the walls. “Do you want everyone to hear?”

  Danny stood in front of the glass, his hands spread and pressing. “Misss you.”

  Rage blasted through me. “I can’t be here 24/7. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired, Danny.”

  His hands slid downward, squeaking as they dropped. He turned away, his broad shoulders drooping.

  I felt instant remorse. If I was afraid and bitchy, how much worse was it for him? He didn’t have control of his body. Didn’t know whether he was going to live or die. He was completely dependent on me for everything. And he’d always been the strong one. The one who solved the problems, fixed the broken appliances, soothed my tears.

  And now, he was a shambling monster. How must he feel?

  Pity filled me, but I blinked away my tears. “Danny…I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t respond, simply shuffled to the cot and lowered himself. Today, he wore a pair of jeans he hadn’t been able to button, so they hung loosely at his hips. From the back, he seemed his old self.

  “Danny, please.”

  “Misss you,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear it. And then he shoved down his pants and stood staring downward, as though wondering how to free himself from the fabric pooled around his feet.

  I went to the door and unlocked it. I approached him slowly, because his mood was strange, his expression too watchful. “If you lower yourself to the cot, I’ll take off your pants.”

  Danny’s red eyes narrowed, but he dropped to the cot and sat with his back against the wall. I came closer and bent, pulling the jeans from one foot then the other. “Would you like your sweats back?”

  His gaze was steady, locking with mine. Below, I noted his hand closed around his penis. He stroked it up and down, watching my eyes, his expression closed.

  It was the first time he’d shown any hint of arousal or sexual interest.

  My heart thudded in my chest. My gaze dipped, and I watched his large hand smooth up and down his shaft. His coordination wasn’t there. His grip seemed tight, but when he loosened it, he growled.

  “Can’t quite get it right?” I asked softly.

  “Dooo it.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know how you’ll react if you get too excited.”

  “Find…waaay.”

  I backed away slowly, my face filling with heat, my sex throbbing, nipples prickling. What he wanted was wrong in so many ways, but already my mind was racing for a solution, because I missed him, too. Missed being with him, missed feeling his body claim mine.

  How much of Danny was still inside the monster weighed on me. If he was fully cognizant but simply unable to control his body and his speech, shouldn’t I give my lover ease? Just as I kept him clothed and fed?

  At the door, I paused and glanced back. I didn’t tell him I might return. Didn’t want to anger him if I got cold feet. There was so much to consider. The safety aspects, the fact he was changed. Would I be able to follow through or bolt when it didn’t feel the same? Could I bear the disappointment?

  In our bedroom, I sorted through my toys. I found condoms and a ball gag. They’d have to do. My hands shook as I removed my clothing. I walked through the house nude, letting the cool air-conditioned air waft between my legs. My breasts bounced, nipples stiffening.

  When I reached the garage, I stayed at the doorway, waiting for the moment he saw me.

  His head whipped toward me, and he lunged from the cot.

  I drew back, alarmed, my heartbeat thudding dully in my chest.

  His chest heaved. Fists curled at his sides. And then he turned and pulled the cot closer toward the door. Far enough, that when he sat again, his manacled arm was stretched behind him.

  My breath held as fear dissipated. He was offering me what protection he could. I entered. Inside the studio cage, I set down the condoms and raised the ball gag.

  His lips twitched.

  A smile, perhaps? Again, I wondered whether I put my own spin on his expressions to serve my own need for connection. But still, I drew nearer. “You’ll have to open for me. I’ll put the ball inside, but I can’t touch your mouth.”

  His jaw widened, and I swallowed hard. Trust was something I had to drag from deep inside me, but I tucked the ball into his mouth without touching him, then lifted the strap. He held still while I put it in place, latching it behind his head.

  Now, I was safe from his bite.

  My hands shook as I rolled the condom down his shaft. “Not even sure why I want this. No one’s said it’s not safe to fuck a zombie,” I said, making a joke, but failing to smile when I met his steady gaze.

  I wished he could speak to me. Murmur sexy things to make me feel less like I was about to commit the mortal sin of bestiality. “I used my vibrator last night,” I whispered. “I thought about us, in our bed, and I couldn’t stand another night of longing for you. It’s why I was so bitchy today. I felt ashamed that I resented the fact I couldn’t fuck you.”

  He made a garbled sound behind his gag. With his free hand, he reached out and grabbed my upper arm to pull me closer, pressing so hard I gasped.

  “Easy. You don’t know your strength.”

  His hand dropped away to clutch the edge of the cot. He leaned back and spread his legs. An invitation.

  His erection was thick, jutting straight from his groin. Mine to claim. Mine to do anything I pleased. And what I wanted was him, deep inside me, crowding my walls, filling me to bursting—hot and thick and male.

  I stepped between his legs then lifted a knee and set it beside his hip, then lifted the other, climbing over his lap, over his hard stalk. My breasts ached, and I leaned toward his chest to rub the tips against his hair and skin. How I’d missed this. Connection. Attraction. His scent surrounded me, the same, but tinged with that tell-tale almond-like aroma. Nice.

  Again, he gave a muffled growl, but I wasn’t frightened now. I palmed my breasts and held them high. I twisted the tips, then leaned upward to rub a nipple against his chin and cheek.

  His eyes closed, and he rubbed his beard to rasp the tip.

  “I think I like you scruffy.” I settled back, his cock trapped between my slit and his belly. “I’ll have to fuck you quick, Danny. It’s been too long.”

  I rose, reached between our bodies, and fit the tip of his cock against my folds. Moisture glazed his head, and I rubbed against it, anointing it before I sank slightly, taking in just the cap.

  His growling intensified. His red eyes glared.

  “What? No teasing allowed?” I flattened my palms against his chest and pinched his nipples between my fingers. Then I sank lower, taking him inside me, bouncing softly and swirling my hips to fit him inside. “I always liked how big you are. I can almost come from just the fullness.” I sank deeper, hissing because the stretch was delici
ous.

  When I’d slid far enough our groins met, I sagged against him, breathing hard from excitement. “Gimme a second,” I said, “God, it feels so good.”

  Danny’s free arm snaked around my back.

  I opened my eyes, saw the dark intent, and tried to push away.

  His hand flattened on my ass, anchoring me against him, and then he crawled backwards, dropping to the floor and taking me with him.

  We bounced, his deeply imbedded cock hitting my cervix, my knees slamming against the hard floor. Fear left a bitter taste in my mouth. “Danny, that hurt.”

  He shook his head and tucked me closer, then got up on his knees and came over me, pinning me beneath him. Cool concrete against my back, I held my breath, wondering if I’d made a horrible mistake. But Danny’s hips moved. He withdrew then lunged forward, stroking hard toward my center.

  I grimaced as he drove into me, fucking me against the floor. Some of my discomfort must have shown in my expression. His movements halted. His gaze narrowed on my face. Then he wrapped his arms beneath me, cradling my body, and resumed his quick, sharp strokes.

  They were barely rhythmic, but gaining strength and direction. I tilted my hips, curving them to form a cradle for him to rock against, then gently pushed against him every time he stroked to show him how to move with me.

  My channel grew hotter, wetter. The lusty sound of his cock churning inside me was beautiful, hypnotic. I lifted my legs, riding the crest of his hips, my ankles crossed and held tightly to his frame.

  His grunts were thickening, so deep and growling I felt free to answer him in kind, grunting with each deep thrust, moaning in his ear. My fingers raked his skin, dug into his back and ass, encouraging him to pound harder.

  Here was my lover, rutting, growling, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, not so different from the primal couplings we’d enjoyed before. With Danny, sex always began gentle but ended fierce. Bruises weren’t uncommon, and I’d cherished the twinges on my ass and inside my tender channel.

  Letting my head fall back, I stared upward, watching the grayness in his features wash away with a flood of pink suffusing his cheeks. Sweat broke on his forehead and upper lips. His body writhed, each undulation grinding his cock deep inside me. We were so close his exhalations freed me to drag in air. We found our rhythm, found the pulse that connected our hearts until it drummed in our chests and ears.

  Danny murmured, two distinct sounds behind his gag.

  “I love you, too,” I murmured, reading what I wanted into his sounds.

  Whatever the future held, however long it took for science to replace fear, I’d wait. Moments like this, lying beneath my lover who fought so valiantly to return, I could do no less.

  “I love you,” I repeated, digging my fingers into the deep indentation of his spine.

  Water dripped onto my face, his tears. His head jerked back, and he halted his motions as I carefully wiped them away.

  “They didn’t land in my mouth.” No one had warned about tears, but then, who knew? I used my thumbs to dry his tears, holding his gaze as he cuddled me close. “I love you still. Always.”

  With a sharp, deep nod, he resumed rocking, his motions more fluid, his breaths deepening steadily. His red gaze locked with mine, a hint of primitive hunger gleaming as he glanced down to my breasts then back to my lips.

  “I wish we could kiss. I love your kisses.” Before, he’d hold me forever in his lap and lavish me with short, playful pecks that never failed to grow into hot, luscious kisses that melted me like warm butter.

  His face rubbed mine, gently abrading, and then he lifted it and gathered me closer. My breath left in a gasp when he brought me up to straddle his lap while he knelt on the hard floor.

  But he wasn’t leaving me to do the work; he wanted more friction. Something I didn’t have to guess at the moment his hands clamped hard on my ass and he began to move me in big motions, up and down his cock.

  My thighs strained as I helped him, rising high then sinking, my pussy engulfing him from tip to root. I rocked forward at the end of each deep stroke to rub my clit against him. Soon, I was breathing so hard my head grew light. “Danny, I’m close, so close,” I whispered.

  His fingers clamped hard around the corners of my hips, and he bounced me faster, taking over the labor, lifting me, shoving me down hard. I loved the harsh motions, loved the heat he’d built inside my channel. His increased strength called to something wild inside me. Moisture overflowed, soaking my pussy and his cock, and still we moved together.

  I held back my orgasm as long as I could, biting my lip to concentrate, until at last I heard his graveled rumbling and muffled, throaty shouts. I gripped his head, dug my fingers into his scalp, and screamed.

  I was aware of his fingers roaming my back and buttocks. Of his hips quivering beneath me. When arms encircled me and squeezed so tightly I couldn’t draw a breath, only then did I open my eyes.

  He was there. Staring at me. Tears brimming, but not falling.

  I reached behind his head and undid the strap. He turned and spat away the ball. “Won’t kissss.”

  I rubbed his mouth with my fingers. “Won’t kiss,” I agreed.

  “Won’t biiite.”

  I offered him a small smile. “Good to know,” I whispered.

  “Lllove…you…ssstill.”

  I leaned forward and kissed his chin, his cheek. I bit his ear then nuzzled into the corner of his neck. We rocked together, bodies swaying forward and back. The sweetest embrace after a long, nightmarish night.

  If this moment was the only joy we’d ever find, it was worth the sacrifice. The boy I’d fallen in love with in high school, the man I’d planned to marry, was here. Whether he was trustworthy around others didn’t matter. He’d never knowingly harm me.

  A kiss landed on my shoulder. His tongue swept up my neck.

  Slowly, I turned my head…

  His mouth sealed over mine.

  *

  Time is measured by hunger, by the escalating gnawing in my gut. I feed. I sleep. I snarl until he brings me meat.

  Today, he brings me a pile of clothing. I sniff the air, lips curling at my own acrid scent. I wash, my gaze following him as he moves on the other side of the glass. He removes the dark shades hiding his glorious red eyes. His smile stretches, greeting me.

  Although I’m not in full control of my body, not yet, I clumsily push off the sweats and wash. Then I wait.

  “You know me,” he says as he opens the door.

  “Yesss,” I say, the words coming from the farthest recesses of my jumbled mind, but feeling right. “Dannny.”

  He draws closer, and I lunge against my restraint. He doesn’t pull away, but lets me come close.

  I stand with my chest against his and lift my head.

  His hands bracket my face. His kiss lands on my mouth. Our tongues taste then slide together. Our hips grind. An old hunger rekindles.

  When he draws back, I blink away tears. “Ssstill.”

  Lily’s Last Stand

  ‡

  Lily Newcomb checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. She wore a new shade of lipstick—“Waitress Red”—on her lips with a slick of gloss to wet them. Brent used to say red lips made him think of blowjobs. She pouted her mouth at her reflection. That ought to make him sit up and take notice.

  Then, bracing herself, she let herself out of her Volvo and tugged the belt of her raincoat securely around her waist, trying not to think about how ridiculous this was, how cliché. But she was at her wit’s end.

  Brent didn’t know it, but he’d just spent his last night burning the midnight oil. They had enough now—enough money, enough things, enough of the right friends and associates. It was time Brent turned his considerable skills toward shoring up another relationship—one closer to home.

  Lily used his spare set of keys to open the outer door of the law offices and let herself inside. The reception area was dark, as was the corridor. Only a sliver of light shone
beneath her husband’s door. They were alone.

  She unbelted the coat, letting it drop into a messy puddle at her feet. She fluffed her hair, combing her fingers through her bangs to tousle them. With a last deep breath, she strode on her four-inch patent leather heels to his office, grasped the knob with her sweaty palm, and inched the door open.

  Brent sat at his desk. The neck of his white, button-down shirt was opened, his tie askew. Bristles shadowed his rugged jaw. His dark hair looked deliciously messy as he frowned at the document in front of him.

  Before he lifted his gaze, she leaned against the doorframe in a seductive pose and tossed back her head, hoping he wouldn’t laugh when he realized she was there—and what she wasn’t wearing.

  She heard a cough. Brent’s gaze rose and widened, giving her a quick once-over before he bolted from his chair.

  Too late, she realized he wasn’t alone. She thrust a hand downward to hide her sex, wrapped an arm around her breasts, but it was too little protection, too late.

  Brent’s partner, Lou, rose from an armchair, instantly averting his gaze. He coughed again. “I can see why you were in a rush to get home, Brent,” he said, sounding strangled. He turned to walk toward the door, shielding his face with a hand and offering a muffled, laughing, “Nice seeing you, Lily,” as she stood, slack-jawed, beside the door. In the distance, she heard Lou whistling tunelessly as he exited the office.

  Heat crept across her cheeks as she glanced at her husband. “This was a bad idea. I’ll just let myself out,” she said in a little voice, backing away.

  But Brent kept coming. His face wore that look, the one he assumed when dressing down an intern for shoddy research. “Lily, get back here. Now.”

  Lily bit her lip then dropped her hands. She eyed him with trepidation. Not because she feared him—Brent was never harsh—but because she hated disappointing him. Too late again, she realized she’d acted rashly. Would she ever learn patience? To let things happen in their own time?

  As always, she’d seen a problem and rushed to solve it. It had seemed a simple plan—an ambush, really. He’d been staying later and later at work over the past weeks. And if she didn’t know he had a deep streak of integrity running through his core, she might have assumed he was having an affair. But she knew him. She used to work for him. She’d seen how deeply he could sink into a case to the exclusion of everything else. She’d just never thought she’d be shunted to the side for so long.