Justice

by Gillian Zane

  “Fear of what, Reid?”

  “Fear of being out here, on my own. Fear of them tracking me down and beating the heck out of me again.”

  “They did that?” she asked.

  “Regularly,” I laughed. “It’s why I began taking MMA, I was done with being beat down. It didn’t help though, once I beat them one on one, Junior began to get his buddies to wail on me all at once.”

  “Why stay?”

  “It was all I knew.” I looked at my hands, suddenly ashamed.

  “Well, now you can know something different,” she said earnestly. She squeezed my hand and smiled. It was the first time her smile was reflected in her eyes. She was beautiful. I wanted to pull her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay. That we would go back and we would be fine. That I was the man she needed. That I could make everything right.

  I didn’t, though. Because it was a lie. I smiled back. We got out of the hearse. I left the keys on the dash. We stayed on alert, but it was a ghost town. Baby crawled up on the ledge of the interstate and jumped.

  My breath caught in my throat, but she made it with ease and looked at me as if to say, “your turn.”

  I got onto the side rail and made the mistake of looking down. I was at least thirty feet up and a few of the dead wandered under me, their moans unheard but their movements gave them away.

  If I fell, I would be like a snack falling from the sky for them.

  “Jump,” she urged me. I did. I coiled up all my energy and pushed off from the side rail. It was nothing, only a few feet, but it was the scariest thing I had ever experienced.

  “That was insane,” I said after I had calmed down and got a look at our surroundings.

  “That was easy,” she laughed.

  “Sure, you do that all the time.”

  “I used to, but out of airplanes. You’ve never lived until you’ve jumped from a C130 to a Blackhawk.”

  “Okay, you win, I’m a pussy.”

  “I think that’s the first naughty word I’ve heard you say. Figures it would be in reference to a part of the female anatomy.”

  “I curse,” I frowned, knowing it was a stretch. I had gotten out of the habit when I realized how crass it made the other brothers look. I cursed with them, always playing a part.

  “No, you don’t. I think it’s sweet.” She got on her tiptoes and kissed me lightly on the lips.

  I deepened the kiss and she moaned against my lips. It took every bit of strength in my body to pull away from her. We didn’t know what was in store for us in this building.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said. “I really have something else I want to do.”

  “You and me both,” she said and smacked me on the ass.

  FORTY-SIX | Wash Me

  We were on a balcony with a glass, hip high wall that enclosed a large area. A trendy outdoor table set sat in the corner and a high-tech looking panel was embedded into the wall near a sliding glass door.

  The balcony was set lower than the interstate so you weren’t staring right into traffic, but all you got was a view of the cement of the raised road. It wasn’t exactly a room with a view.

  Rebel went to the sliding glass door and pulled on it. It opened. I guess no one expected someone to jump from the interstate to get in. We banged on the wall to attract the attention of any dead in the building, but nothing moved, nothing moaned back at us. All clear.

  We walked into what was a surprisingly posh, efficiency apartment. I looked around in disbelief. It was clean and the air was fresh. It was like a dream. Like we had stepped back in time to a PreZ moment. I slid the door closed behind me and looked around the room in fascination.

  “The HVAC is working,” he said and went to a panel on the wall, clicked a switch and the lights came on.

  “I thought this was a solar company, not an apartment complex?”

  Rebel held up a pamphlet from the coffee table.

  “It’s a showpiece.” He flipped through the pamphlet. “They were trying to showcase the future of energy independent living in an apartment setting. Everything in this apartment is hooked up to self-sustainable energy. It should all work.” He looked around. There wasn’t much to the place. It was little more than four-hundred square feet, only a low wall and a few steps separated the bedroom from the living area.

  He went to the sink in the kitchen and turned the tap. Water ran from the spout. It ran clear.

  “This is fantastic. I would have been trying to get hired on with this place if I saw this.”

  “Can we stay here indefinitely?” I asked, sitting down hard on the white sofa. I got up quickly when I realized I was dirty and this sofa was bright white. Rebel started to open up the cabinets. There weren’t many, but they were pristine. They were also empty.

  “Not much food,” he laughed. He opened the last cabinet and revealed a washer and dryer combo. It was one of those tiny ones that could only do a small load.

  “Now, that is gold!” I dumped my pack on the floor and pulled out my extra clothes. I kept a shirt and a pair of pants rolled up in the bottom. I had hand-washed them in our homemade detergent, but all my clothes smelled perpetually like campfire.

  I squeezed past Rebel and shoved them into the washer machine.

  “I can’t wait to put on a shirt that smells like fabric softener!” I yanked my armor vest off and threw it on the ground, then yanked my shirt over my head, putting it in the machine to join the other clothes. I really wanted to wash my underwear. It was rather trivial, but I really missed crisp, clean underwear.

  As I pulled my boots off, Rebel made an odd noise in his throat and I stopped to look up at him.

  I was about to strip down to nothing in front of him. Which really shouldn’t be a big deal since his face was buried between my legs a few hours earlier. Nothing he hadn’t seen already. But we were in that awkward, ‘are we going to do it again and maybe this time complete it’ phase. He must be of the impression that what we did earlier was it.

  I wasn’t. In fact, I had every intention of him finishing what he had started and now I would have clean underwear to put on after. The little things.

  “It can fit your clothes too,” I said innocently. “You should probably,” I smiled coyly, “Strip.”

  He pulled off his shirt and handed it to me. I put it in the washing machine. We both undid our heavy boots, putting them to the side. I undid the button of my pants and pulled them off. Being efficient, I brought the panties down with the pants. I didn’t meet his eyes, I turned around and shoved them in the washer, then ripped off my sports bra and put it in with the rest.

  I turned around to find him completely nude also, his pants held in his hands, covering up a part of his body I was most interested in seeing. I hadn’t realized the extent of his tattoos. They were sexy as hell. I had always had a thing for ink, but it had to be just right. His right arm was covered from wrist to shoulder in an intricate mix of bright colors and swirling Escher-like patterns. The designs crossed his shoulder and plummeted down his chest and across his stomach. His chest was mostly done in blacks, with only a little bit of color peeking through every now and again. One of those spots was the confederate flag and the words of his MC, but it was obvious he was trying to distract from that with the rest of the design, including an intricate clockwork bird design that overtook all of it, mixed with interesting flowers and was that a sugar skull? I would have to inspect his tats a little more.

  I held my hand out for his clothes and he handed them to me. He was erect. His cock was hard and protruded proudly from his body. I hadn’t been with many men, but he was impressive compared to the others. He was thick and the length was enough to give me pause. I might be taking on a little more than I could handle.

  His cock jumped and I looked up and met his eyes guiltily. I was staring. I turned quickly and put his clothes in the wash, sprinkled some detergent on the top and turned the dials until I thought it was the right setting.

  With a slam, I clo
sed the door to the washer and turned around to face him.

  “Now what do we do?” I asked.

  FORTY-SEVEN | Spin Cycle

  I grabbed for her. I pulled her to me and didn’t think about what I was doing. My hands were all over her naked body and my mouth was exploring everything it touched. I led her backwards, our lips colliding, our breaths mingling. She even stepped on my toes a few times, but I couldn’t care less.

  I broke away to get my bearings and then swept her up in my arms and threw her on the raised queen size bed. I took a few moments before I joined her to stare at her beauty. She was breathtaking. Her skin was absolutely flawless, the perfect pale shade of peach, with not a mole or freckle to mar the tone of it. She had designs down her side, they looked like words mixed with flowering hibiscus and leaves from her armpit to her fit stomach.

  “What does this say?” I moved onto the bed with her. The words were in a different language, maybe German, and they flowed over her skin in an inspiring work of art. It was a great piece.

  “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you,” she quoted from memory.

  “Nietzsche, kind of deep for a grunt,” I laughed. She looked at me with fake offense, which was hard to do since we were both naked and quoting a long dead philosopher.

  “The fact that you even know who that is blows your bad-boy biker persona out the window,” she teased and rolled her eyes.

  “I thought I blew that one out the window a long time ago,” I said and moved over her, capturing her mouth so she couldn’t respond. She kissed me back with an eagerness that had me dying to spread her legs and claim her, but I held back. I kissed her face, her chin, her neck until I had my face buried in her beautiful tits.

  Another perfect part of her body. I kept finding new ones.

  I sucked a nipple into my mouth and she moaned, pressing up against me. I ran my fingers through the wet folds of her pussy. She was soaked and I slipped two fingers into her easily, smiling around her nipple as she bucked and cried out.

  I sucked on her nipple as I penetrated her with my fingers. In and out, quicker and quicker, I moved them inside of her. I wanted to be buried in her, dick deep, but I wanted to make her come more. I ran my thumb over her clit in a circular pattern and fingered her until she spread her arms and thrust her hips up against my hand, screaming my name as she orgasmed.

  “Rebel,” she called.

  “Call me Reid.” I requested and I stopped touching her.

  “Please don’t stop,” she moaned.

  “Then what are you going to call me?”

  “Reid, fuck me, dammit.” She grabbed me by the neck and pulled me down for a kiss. I used my knee to spread her legs wider to accommodate me.

  We both gasped as my dick nestled between her legs and barely penetrated her. She was so wet, she was dripping.

  I pushed in, entering her slowly. She was tight, but wet so it was a contrast in feelings. I used my arms to prop myself up and concentrated on the act of sliding deeper into her.

  Our gazes locked as I fully seated myself inside her, making sure she could take all of me without pain. She showed no sign of discomfort, only pleasure. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glazed, her mouth open slightly as she panted from the sensation.

  I held still, focused on our joined bodies and the warmth that spread over me.

  She was the first to get anxious and began to push up against me. I pulled back, withdrawing almost all the way out of her and then pushed back into her hard.

  This time she screamed my real name without any prompting. Might as well reward her. I stimulated her clit, rubbing it with my thumb as I pumped my cock into her tight pussy.

  She came undone around me. I felt the pulse of her pussy as it gripped my dick and the pleasure overtook her. I gave her a moment to enjoy the wave of sensation, then I slipped my arms under her thighs and pushed her legs up so I could get even deeper inside of her.

  I slid my hands down her legs and gripped her by her ankles as I began to pump hard into her. I set a rough pace, but I was lost in her, lost in the feeling and she was urging me on with her wonderful little noises of enjoyment. When I felt another orgasm overtake her, I was done. It hit me hard and fast and suddenly I was jerking into her, my orgasm a hot flash of sensation that broke me open and left me dizzy and murmuring words that made no sense.

  I pulled out of her and she whimpered at the loss, but I was spent, my eyes grainy, my body heavy. I didn’t want to crush her. I moved to the side of her and pulled her to me, reaching spastically for the covers to pull over us. I had never felt this content in my life. I might have said it out loud. But I didn’t care. I wanted her to know what she did to me.

  FORTY-EIGHT | Shattered

  I was sore, especially between my legs. I awoke and I could feel the pulse of awareness there, from the amazing sex I just had. I wiggled and felt him hard against my back. He was either awake too, or he had serious morning wood. We hadn’t been out that long. I didn’t feel like we had slept much. Enough to refresh.

  His arms snaked around me and cupped my breast, squeezing tightly.

  Awake then.

  He pinched my nipple hard and I cried out from the pain, pleasure of it. Not able to resist I arched my back and pushed against him. His hands went to my hips and pulled them tight against him, his hard cock pressed into my ass. He slipped it between my legs, not entering me, only stimulating me. My legs were still closed and as he pulled himself in and out of the juncture between my legs it created a unique sensation.

  When he found my clit, I shattered. The feeling was amazing and I couldn’t control my body. I wanted to move in five different directions at once. I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to take him with every part of me, but I was facing the wrong way.

  “Inside of me, Reid,” I moaned. I needed him.

  “Not yet, Baby,” he cooed. His pace picked up as he circled my clit with those amazing fingers. He sucked my ear lobe into his mouth and held me tight to him as he pumped between my legs but he never entered me. He took me over the edge with his clever fingers.

  I came with a shout and a lot of jerking against him as my body flooded with a pulsing sensation.

  “That’s what I needed,” he said as he rolled me to my back and kissed me generously on the mouth.

  “Ditto,” I managed to get out between breaths.

  “C’mon, get up, I’m sure if the washing machine works, the hot water heater works. I can’t even remember what a hot shower feels like.”

  “Not something I want to hear from the guy I just sexed up,” I laughed but he looked like he regretted what he said. “Oh, speaking of that, I gotta put the clothes in the dryer.” I got up from the bed quickly.

  “I already did that, not too long ago. You were sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I could have kissed him. Or declared my undying love for him, which was a little overboard for him doing laundry. But it was thoughtful and people didn’t do thoughtful things for me. Especially now that everyone was focused on surviving.

  Instead of opening my mouth and making a fool of myself, though, I dragged him to the shower.

  The shower was probably the biggest thing in the tiny apartment. There wasn’t a bath tub, only an enclosed shower with two shower heads and a shallow bench along the back wall for holding soaps and shampoo. There were no toiletries in the bathroom, so I fished out the homemade stuff I had begun to really enjoy from my pack.