Chapter 5
FIVE
Asia
I was serious about Jack coming to my room.
He, however, wasn’t.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when I walked into my bedroom and found Jack’s backpack and boots neatly lined up at the foot of my bed, a tattered copy of Dune on what I assumed he’d taken as his side.
My stomach twisted, but I refused to imagine or even consider the reasons why.
Instead, I went about my usual routine, and then lay in bed, reminding myself that a petty turf war with Jack was a waste of time and energy.
He could sleep in my bed. He could sleep on the fucking moon. It made no difference to me.
I drifted off. Woke up to something warm and hard around me.
Jack.
I sank into that feeling, but then stiffened and pulled away. Or at least I tried to. The source of that warmth, Jack’s strong arms, held me in place. I didn’t try to fight him. And I didn’t try to pull away again, either.
As shameful as it was, like this, I felt…safe.
Safe.
Something as fake as unicorns, leprechauns.
Zombies.
I relaxed my rigid body and sank against him.
Would have stayed there, but when he smoothed his palm up my hip, reaching for my stomach, I twisted away.
Let the cold seep into my skin.
Told myself I welcomed it.
In some ways, I did.
Because the cold was the truth. But I didn’t want the truth right now.
I wanted the lies.
I wanted Jack.
I shifted and faced him. Wasn’t surprised when I found him staring at me. He didn’t move, didn’t ask anything at all.
From the outside he looked unsure. But I saw beyond that. Saw his silence was a weapon that highlighted my weakness with every second that ticked by.
He was going to make me ask.
He was going to make me choose him.
And yet again, I was complicit in my damnation. Even as my hand moved toward him, even with the knowledge that I once again proved my weakness, I couldn’t stop.
When I touched his neck, a thrill shot up my arm, potent and undeniable.
He had a mean look on his face, but his lids lowered ever so slightly.
It was enough for me.
I traced my hand up and cupped his cheek.
His stubbled jaw was scratchy against my palm, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking back to the first time I touched him like this.
We were at Judge Hanlon’s in those first terrifying days, but back then, being like that, Jack scowling down at me, I’d felt so, so safe, I’d been stupid enough to believe that zombies were the worst thing that would ever happen to me.
Even stupider to believe that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t alone.
I remembered how giddy I was in those breathless seconds.
How relieved I was when Jack leaned down and kissed me.
He did the same thing now, still pissed-looking, but still Jack. When his face was centimeters from mine, close enough that I felt the warmth from his breath, I turned away again.
Made quick work of my pajamas, cursing the stupid pride that made me put them on in the first place. Because every second I spent fumbling with clothes was a second he wasn’t touching me. A second I had to spend thinking and not feeling.
It had been that way at Judge Hanlon’s too. But then I’d been terrified, prisoner of a world I didn’t comprehend. Now we were on my terms.
Finally naked, I flipped onto my stomach and pushed up on all fours.
Jack, who was the most frustrating person I’d ever met but no one’s definition of a dummy, caught on quickly.
A second later, he was behind me, his muscular thighs bracketing my hips, his cock hard, heavy, insistent where he’d nestled it between my lower lips.
He thrust, sliding his thick shaft against my slit while he kneaded my breasts in slow circles.
I hissed when he pinched my nipple, then sighed when he soothed away the sting.
My pussy clenched so hard I was sure he felt it. I arched my back when he circled the head of his cock around my hole and reached between us before he pushed in.
I arched deeper, lifted my ass higher, holding myself open as I grabbed his cock with my other hand and nudged it toward my other hole. I dropped one hand, trapping his cock between my ass cheeks, the heavy weight of his head against me, making my asshole clench.
I whimpered when he moved, and he stilled. I felt him looking down at me, but I refused to look back. I was too lost in the sensation, too desperate for more.
“What are you playing at, Asia?” Jack’s voice was gruff with warning and I couldn’t stop the shiver.
“Nothing,” I whispered, the sound a cross between a moan and a sigh.
“Then what is this?”
I chuckled, the vibration of my body pushing me closer to him. “I think that’s obvious.”
“Pretend I’m an idiot,” he said, his voice still low but with a tension now.
He sounded mad, but his cock was still rock-solid. I told myself that was all I cared about. Besides, it was no surprise he was asking this. After all, I’d never missed a chance to humiliate myself in front of him. Why should this be any different?
It shouldn’t.
It wasn’t.
That was why I answered. “I want you to fuck my ass.”
Jack let out a low hiss and rocked his hips, and I wasn’t sure if either was voluntary. Either way, he liked the idea.
“Really?” He sounded almost normal but there was a slight strain in his voice.
“Real—” I cut off when he slammed two fingers into my pussy.
I gripped the sheet when he curled them and then pulled out, only to push them right back in. I lost count of how many times he did it, too caught up in the sound of slick flesh against flesh. Realized he stroked his dick and used my cream as lube.
I stilled when something blunt pressed against my pucker. He pressed in, and I forced my body to stay pliant.
He pushed in, insistent, unyielding. “You ever been fucked here before?”
“No,” I said.
“I know. Can barely get my thumb in. You think this tight little ass can take my cock?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to squirm against the burning stretch.
Feeling bereft when he pulled his thumb out.
“We’ll see.” I listened as he fumbled in the dark and was puzzled when I heard a cap flip.
I realized it was the baby oil I sometimes mixed with aloe vera to moisturize my hair.
I hissed when something cool hit my asshole, and tensed ever so slightly when he pushed in again. There was less stretch, and I sank into the push-pull-push and then sighed when he added another finger and thrust in deep, then scissored his way out again and again, opening me for him.
He pulled his fingers out and lined his cock up to my rosette, I heard the cap again, then hissed as the cold oil dripped between my ass cheeks.
I froze, wondering if he would slam in with one stroke, or go slow enough to drive me crazy.
He didn’t do either.
He pushed in hard enough that his mushroom head breached my opening in one go. The stretch was beyond anything, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run away or sink in. So I stayed still, trusting him.
Hating myself for it.
He gave me a second to adjust and then steadily pushed, his shaft feeling impossibly thick, impossibly long as he spread me.
We both sighed when he bottomed out, and every sensation was heightened, the tickle of his pubic hair against my ass cheeks, his strong hands anchored on my hips.
The impossibly soft bamboo sheets against my knees.
All of it bombarding me, my body broke out in a full shiver as I waited for him to move. I braced myself for the pain, welcomed it.
Some sick part of me wanted him to drill my ass, leave my body as wrecked as the rest of me.
I squirmed when he stayed still, seeking…something, relief from the foreign burning stretch.
More of it?
Jack put his palm on the center of my back and pressed me down flat, the change in position sending shockwaves through my body.
I tightened my grip on the sheets, then arched back when he smoothed a hand up my side, some of the tightness in my chest loosening when he bypassed my stomach and went up high to roll my nipple between his fingers.
It was too much and not enough. I needed something but I couldn’t allow myself to ask for it. I’d take what he gave, lose myself in it while I could. This—Jack’s cock so thick, so warm, so alive—how it shrunk the world down, giving me something to focus on was the point, right?
I froze again when he stroked down my side, sighing again when he circled my clit again and again. It took a second to realize the deep, panting moans that filled the room came from me, and even though I tried to hold them in, the every swipe of his finger demanded more.
I wished he would talk, fill my ears with filthy words of conquest, distract me from my surrender.
He didn’t.
Just played with my clit, circled my empty hole, letting me beg with shameful sighs and moans.
The intensity was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and a tear slipped out of my eye when he nudged two fingers inside me.
That was how he drove me to my first climax. And my second.
Through it all he was near silent. The only sound he made was a low grunt when I clamped down on him, my empty pussy clenching around nothing as I rode out the climax.
He pulled out, leaving me as bereft as he spurted cum on my back.
I was too tired to move, exhausted really, so I was glad when Jack wiped the cum off my back and then flipped me over, trapping my body between his and the bed.
“You get what you want?” His voice was rough, but his eyes were soft.
“Yes.”
My answer was almost the truth.
Silence followed, and in it, he loomed over me, larger than life, staring down at me with something in his eyes.
I wanted to kiss him.
I didn’t.