Those tablets are empty.
I do speak Japanese though. I’ll bet Mr. I Went To College can’t do that.
To think I let him do those things to me. Those wild, wicked things that felt so deliciously good. I get wet just thinking about them. I shouldn’t. Jackson isn’t right in the head. He can’t be—he kidnapped me and chained me to his bed. One minute he’s nasty and the next he’s asking me how I like my eggs. It’s just not normal. I mean, he actually scares me a little.
But the world outside this apartment is even scarier. Right now I’m as safe as I’ll ever be.
When Jackson finally gets home, I still haven’t decided whether to kill the guy in my story or just cut off his prized possession. Darn. I really wanted him to read it, then worry all night that I might actually do it.
He dumps his stuff in the kitchen and makes his usual bathroom run. When he ducks his head in, I concentrate on not looking at him. He comes up behind me, rests his hands on my belly, and kisses my neck, and the tingling starts, and when he reaches up under my shirt—he let me wear one of his shirts today—and captures my breasts, I give up and lean against him.
“Brought you something,” he whispers just under my ear. He traces light tongue-and-suck kisses down my neck, and I couldn’t care less what he brought.
He uncuffs me, though, and when he takes me into the kitchen, I find my diaries.
I smooth my hands over my thighs as my chest fills with warmth. I should thank him, but all I do is trace a finger over the words college ruled.
“When the commander was questioning me, I let out that not all the civilians were cannibals. I used a lot of the knowledge I got from you, and he demanded to know where I got my information.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to say so I told him I found a diary. Now he wants to see it.”
“You’re not giving him my diary!”
He glances away. “I thought maybe—”
“No.”
“Just listen. I thought maybe you could make a new one. Copy down the stuff they need to know, drop in a few personal bits to make it seem authentic, and I’ll give him that.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I don’t want him looking any closer at me than he already is. I don’t want him to find you. You don’t want that either, Amelia. Trust me.”
He’s right. I don’t.
He fills a pot with water and fires up the stove. Tonight it’s spaghetti. It’s not quite pizza, but spaghetti is a gourmet treat as far as I’m concerned.
When dinner is finished, he sets the plates in the sink and turns to me. The fire in his eyes is unmistakable. It’s the same one that burns in me. We meet halfway across the room, and in maybe one second my shirt is on the floor. Jackson’s got his sweatpants tangled around his legs in about two-point-five seconds, and I’m on the kitchen table with my legs spread for his dick. No foreplay. Just fucking. I need him inside me. The table rattles, making way too much noise, so he scoops me up, his cock still inside me, and lays me on the floor. He bends my legs so far up you’d think I’d snap in half, but I’m a dancer. The angle lets him push deep, incredibly deep, and the exquisite ache combined with the sound of his balls slapping against my flesh is almost enough to make me come.
Jackson grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut, and stops moving.
“No, please, Jackson, don’t do this.” If he won’t let me come, I might have to impale myself on him until I do.
He remains unmoving inside me, but he rubs his finger over my clit in fast little circles. Then he begins to rock his hips. I’m completely helpless, unable to move, and the tension builds inside me. I grip my breasts, squeeze the tips, and the sensation doubles the pleasure down there in my cunt.
Jackson shudders. “Jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” He works his hips like the deranged man he is, and my pussy twinges and pulses around him with every thrust. I need him. I need the oblivion. I’m almost there, almost.
Drops of Jackson’s sweat rain down on me, and the smell of animal sex fills my head. I wouldn’t know what to do with someone gentle. I hope it’s always filthy like this.
“What do you say?” he demands, his voice ragged.
I shake my head.
He spits on his fingers and resumes rubbing my clit. The combined image of his cock moving in and out of my pussy, and his fingers down in my crotch sends a foul, dirty thrill through me, and I throw my head back. He stabs into me so deep he hits my womb.
“Say it!” He rides me hard, and the feel of those huge balls slapping against me, the sheer indecency of his hands playing with my pussy sends my cunt into an ecstasy of convulsions.
“I love you,” I grind out. “Fuck me, Jackson, oh God fuck me!”
His eyes burn into mine, and he pulls his lips back from his teeth. There’s that madness again, but this time I want it.
My cunt clamps down on his cock, and the most incredible cramp of pleasure cripples me. I open my mouth, wheeze in a lungful of air, and Jackson mashes his hand over my mouth. I scream. I’d suck his cock all the way into my womb if I could. I try, and he shoots his seed deep, deep inside me. After he’s filled me with what I swear is his soul, he collapses on top of me, mixing his sweat with mine.
He carries me to the bed and lays me in the center. He crawls in just beside me and pulls me onto his chest.
Tonight there are no cuffs. He doesn’t need them. I’d only run away if I thought there was a safer place, but this is the safe place.
I dream again. It’s three days after the missile hit my mom’s office building. We’d taken shelter there, hoping since we weren’t in the towers, we’d be less likely to be bombed. Matthew’s body has already frozen, and Mom is rasping. I hold her hand and beg her, beg her not to leave me. Her whole face scrunches up like she’s in terrible pain, and then slowly relaxes. After that there’s no more sound, just slack lips and a chest that doesn’t move. That’s usually the part where I wake up screaming for my mother.
Tonight I wake up to a muscular body crushing my chest and a warm tongue caressing mine. I don’t scream until much later, after he’s stroked my clit and fucked my cunt and sent my soul to the fires of hell.
This time when I come, I don’t need to be told. I just mindlessly repeat over and over, I love you. I love you.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jackson
The company commander sits at his gray metal desk and flips through the battered spiral-bound notebook. “Not much in the way of diaries.”
“Whoever wrote it probably didn’t have much to choose from, sir.”
“True.”
He’s got the diary. Why am I still here?
The officer flips the notebook shut. “Excellent work, Martell. Where did you say you found this?”
“In one of the bombed-out buildings, sir,” I hedge. I flick a glance at the door and clear my throat.
He plays with his wedding ring and squints at the diary. “What an odd place to find something like this.”
I shrug. “Not really. The whole city is a ruin. Maybe whoever it was had to leave in a hurry. Or maybe they figured no one would be rooting around an empty bombed out building.”
“Why did you?”
I’m ready for anything he asks. “Kellison and Querly went after a couple of scabs, sir. I wanted a higher position to see if I could get a better shot.”
“And this was where?”
I watch the commander under the hood of my eyelids. “A lot of the street signs are down, sir. It was a building in Wilmore.”
The commander rubs his brow, takes a breath, and nods. “That will be all, Sergeant. Someone will be in contact with you later today so you can identify the location of the building.”
Of course they will.
“That’ll be all, Sergeant.”
There’s nothing left for me to do but salute and leave.
I exit the office building feeling like I’ve just led them one step closer to my little dancer. How the hell am I going to t
ell her I’m leading the Arc right to her mother’s grave? For all I know, these are the people who did it. It hasn’t escaped my notice that all those nice towers still stand. Someone wanted them available in the future. What for is anyone’s guess, but it’s apparent to me that they were spared on purpose.
I can’t tell Amelia. No way. The expression on her face alone will kill me.
I jog across the campus to find my men. If I’m stuck leading some asshole to Amelia’s family, I’ll have to send the guys out with one of the other crews. Amelia told me last night where some cannibals could be found, and I’ll need to pass that on to them before they leave.
I just spot Querly when a sick chill creeps up my spine. The letters. I put them back with the bodies. Fuck! Those documents are sacred. They’re Amelia’s private outpouring of grief. The Arc has enough. It shouldn’t get her heart, too.
“You took them where?” Amelia drops her fork onto her plate. She’s still too thin, and I waited until she was almost done with her omelet before confessing. It’s one thing to point out a building where there are a couple of bodies. It’s another to lead them to her letters and her dead mother.
I hate feeling guilty. It pisses me off.
“I didn’t know what else to do. It was either the building or your shelter, and we haven’t been there yet.”
Her shoulders slump. “Couldn’t you pick some other place? What about that office building where you saw me dancing?”
“It would be too random. No one would question finding your diary there. No one would suspect it was a fake when there was a clear tie between the diary and the, ah, tomb.”
She bites her upper lip and looks away. “How did you know about that place?”
The heat starts in my neck and works its way to my scalp. I glance away and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Did you read my letters?” Her face scrunches up, and I think she’s about to cry. Oh man.
“It was before.” I’m in some deep shit here. When she cries during sex, it’s a total rush. Any other time I feel like a real asshole. I bite my lips. “I wanted to know you, and I couldn’t just walk up and say hello.”
She nods, but her expression is still downcast.
Right about now I hate myself. I want to tell her how sorry I am, but she thinks of me as a brute. I don’t think she’d buy any apology from me. I round the table anyway and pull her to her feet. I wrap my arms around her, and she doesn’t resist; at least there’s that. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in her hair.
“The information you’ve gathered—it’s too important, too useful. It needs to be shared.”
Amelia is stiff as a board.
“Those nights when I scream, it’s about that,” she says finally.
I let out a breath. “That would do it.”
“They were bombing us night and day. The missile hit on the second afternoon, and everything came down. Matthew’s head was completely crushed, but Mom could have lived if she’d gotten to a hospital.”
“I saw the rubble. There’s no way you could have gotten her out by yourself. It would have taken equipment.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid!”
I hold up my hands and take a step back.
She licks her lips, and there are those tears again. They spark her already beautiful eyes, and my throat tightens. “She was in so much pain, Jackson. The bombs kept hitting all around us. I held her hand for three days, and I couldn’t do anything for her. Then she died.”
She bows her head and hugs herself, and I take that as my cue.
I cup her face and smooth kisses down her brow, her cheeks. I run my hands over her back and press her to me. She angles her face up, and I taste her tears.
I understand her. She’s been with me long enough. Right now she needs me to take those terrible memories away and replace them with something good. I can’t change anything, but it’s something. And hey, I’m a guy. I’m horny as fuck.
I move around her and brush her hair aside, using my lips and tongue to make love to her neck and shoulders. Just so she remembers I’m in charge, I nip her flesh and bring my hands around to cup her breasts. She sighs and turns for a kiss. She hops up and wraps her legs around me, grinds herself against my cock, and it’s all I can do not to impale her right then and there.
“I’ll end up fucking you till you bleed if you keep that up.”
She gives me another hump and bites my chest. “Use me any way you want.”
Nothing makes me want her more than hearing that.
With a groan I lift her onto the counter.
She spreads for me, and the sight of her pussy, wet and open, sends a tingle down the small of my back straight to my balls. She whimpers as I push into her warmth. I shove until I can’t go any farther, and for a moment I savor the feeling of her cunt expanding to take me.
Amelia’s head lolls back, and her mouth relaxes open. “You feel so good inside me.”
Oh yeah. I pull her closer and begin to fuck. Shallow at first, because the tip is extra sensitive right now. Then I need her softness and I shove in all the way. I touch the very back of her cunt, and the fact that we’re a perfect fit makes my blood race. I rock her back and forth, and the angle must be good for her because she’s letting out these shallow little sighs.
She drives me wild. Her tits bounce with each thrust, and Jesus, I can’t pump fast enough. The whole thing is so raw, and I pull a nipple into my mouth and suck like I’ll never taste tit like this again.
As if the sound of our flesh slapping and slurping wasn’t enough, the scent of her cunt fills my head and all I want to do is pour myself into her.
Amelia’s eyelids flutter, and her jaw relaxes. No sound comes out, and it looks like she’s lost in whatever she’s feeling.
“Deeper,” she moans. She runs her hands up my chest and spreads her legs. When she looks up at me through those navy blues, I swear I’d give her anything.
I change my angle again and shove as hard as I can, as deep as I can go. I use my dick to punish her cunt, and she digs in her heels. When she starts breathing heavily, like running-a-marathon heavy, my balls zing.
She sucks in a huge breath, and her face screws up. “Oh! Jackson! I love you! Oh!”
The way she says it, I almost believe it. Her little pussy convulses all around my cock, but I’m not anywhere near done. She’s still twitching and panting as I grab her ass, lift her off the counter, and lie down on my back.
“Ride me.” I suck a breath through my teeth as she settles over my cock and begins raising and lowering herself. It’s like watching a sensuous cat, only it’s Amelia. She brushes her hair to the side of her face and looks away, like she’s too shy to meet my eyes. Each time she raises herself until I almost spill out of her; then she lowers back down, and every time the head of my cock pushes past her entrance, I think I’ll blow my load. I want to lick her cunt, bite her tits, and make her scream. I want to take her and pour myself into her and brand her as mine. No high can compare to this. Damn! I could fuck her all night.
“God, baby, you make me so hard. I’m going to fill you so full of cum you’ll leak all night.” Does she know she was made for this?
In response, she squeezes my dick and rubs her hands over her breasts. “Yes. Do it,” she pants. “Come inside me, Jackson. I want it all.”
Jesus fuck. I take over, pushing up into her with firm strokes. I go as deep as I can, and she throws her head back. I swear her cunt tries to strangle me.
I roll her over and shove her knees apart.
Her lips swallow me, and I batter her pussy like it’s going to save my life. I’m getting close, so close that I whimper over and over like a little girl. My balls seize up, and the ecstacy that follows rips from my chest.
She wraps her legs around me. “Yes,” she gasps. “Fill me. Own me.”
Jesus Christ, I’ve never come so violently. Each squirt feels like a merging of souls, and my balls feel like they’re going to explode.
/> She begged for my cum… fucking incredible.
I collapse on her like a big hairy beast, which I am. I’m crushing her, and I can’t even summon the strength to care. “Oh baby, little dancer, you rock my world.”
When I can breathe again, I roll off her and pull her close. She rubs her hands over my chest hair as though she likes it. When she presses her lips to that spot over my heart, it kills me. It fucking kills me.
Our kiss is slow, passionate. I’ve got nothing left, but I still need her. Need.
She snuggles into my neck. “Thank you.”
I think she’s doing that thing where she’s thanking me for my cum, and I smile. She’s so cute.
“I just want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me before it all ends.”
Her words are like a fist to the gut. I clutch her so hard I think I’ll break her bones. “Not gonna happen. I’m never letting you go.”
She strokes my face, and her smile is sad. “You’ll get bored. You said so.”
“Not with you, little dancer. Never with you.”
But it could happen. I don’t mean I’d get bored with her. No way. She’s heaven. But this assignment is temporary, and I’ll either be moving on to another city or going back to the Arc after this. I can’t imagine how I could take her with me. Thinking of leaving her behind makes my gut twist, but eking out a miserable existence, wandering the wasteland looking for scraps is just not in my plans. I’m not leaving my prospects with the Arc, no matter how dim they are.
Then again, I might not have to make any decision at all. What if I get permanently assigned in Charlotte? Anything is possible. I could stay here, keep hiding my little Amelia, and still hold on to hope for advancement.
It doesn’t make sense to give up. I can have both. I just have to figure out how.
Five O'Clock Shadow: A Standalone Dark Romance (Snow and Ash) Page 10
