Chapter 6
Nightmare Shitbox
Allie
Cam’s warm mouth tasted of sleep and toothpaste and longing, and it was hungry on hers. Even though they’d known each other for less than a day, all Allie could think was finally.
Finally.
When he pulled her on top of him, she found a rhythm with her hips, ensuring that his hardness fit right where she needed it. Goddess, yes, she needed it.
She stuck to that rhythm, panting, even when she found his mouth with her own again.
Hazily, she registered one of his strong hands sliding down to cup her ass, but her entire body went electric when he used that hand to press her body down against his.
He rotated his hips the tiniest bit to create the most delicious friction right where she wanted it.
They both gasped, then her mouth found his neck, and she sucked a little, making him shudder and buck up against her.
His hardness rubbed and nudged entreatingly at her center—she cursed the layers of cotton separating them—making everything below her navel ache with want and her arms weak where she held him.
He was so warm and strong and straining against her. The sounds he made as she moved, as he moved, seemed to vibrate straight through to her aching core.
When his hands slipped under her shirt and unhooked her bra—his unsteady fingers feathering over her back and making her shiver anew before they achieved their goal—she curled her fingers under the bottom of her T-shirt and whipped it off without even thinking.
She sat back on him and watched while he raised his torso and did the same.
She traced her fingers over his chest and stomach while he shuddered beneath her hands.
Cam was so lean. Too lean. He wore a small medallion of some kind on a loose chain, but her attention was drawn to the various bruises and scrapes—no doubt from before his escape—and the scars. Multiple small ones looked to be from childhood, some round, some thin, and others less defined.
She frowned. “You were a pretty active kid, huh?”
Cam’s reddened mouth twisted. “Something like that.”
Then she focused on the two biggest, which also looked to be the most recent. One scored his side in a long but neat faded line, obviously from before the apocalypse. The other was a round, ragged indentation, more pink than white. Oh, Cam.
He’d been shot. Sometime in the last year.
She suspected there would be a much bigger exit-wound scar on his back.
Her fingers went to that dent in his skin, evidence of an injury that could have easily killed him.
He would have turned into a zombie if he hadn’t been lucky enough to be with people who cared about him and could tend to the wound.
His voice, rough and a little sad, brought her back to the moment. “It was a while back.”
She looked up into his heavy-lidded eyes. She nodded, unable to trust her voice, then bent to kiss him again.
Cam was here. He was alive. And right then, he was hers.
With their shirts gone, there was nothing between their upper bodies but delightful, maddening want.
First, his callused, clever hands were everywhere on her skin, urging her up so he could cup her breasts and thumb her nipples, making her moan, before sliding one hand down to dance his fingers against her heat.
Then she took control again, bending low to press their bodies together, angling her hips into him while her mouth explored his neck, tasting the salt of his skin and tracing her fingernails down his side and into his waistband until he gasped out something she couldn’t understand.
He was so hard beneath that tented gray cotton. Definitely time for the pants to come off.
Allie dismounted and glided down to his side while he turned to her, his mouth slanting over hers again and distracting her into hooking one leg over his waist. She rubbed against him and moaned.
Sliding her tongue against his, she showed him what she wanted him to do to her, how she needed him to touch her, inside and out.
When she lost the tempo in the blurred sensations of pleasure, he took over the kiss, his lower body moving in time with his tongue for long moments of exquisite torture before he pulled back, his hands tugging at her pants.
After a moment of wiggling, she was finally naked, and his hands were already sliding between her legs to find her.
He made a noise in his throat, and his stormy blue-gray eyes burned into hers when she moved her hips against those inquisitive fingers.
Yes, yes.
He shifted away, half groaning, half laughing, when she tugged at his waistband, brushing her hands against the hard length of his cock where it strained beneath the fabric. “It’ll be over too soon if you do that now.” He reached for her wrists and succeeded in capturing only one. “Wait, Allie.”
“Wait,” she repeated, too mindless with want for more of his hot, hidden skin to stop. “Yes, I’ll wait, just...” One hand found its way inside the waistband and dipped below it to find more.
Oh Goddess, he was growling, and his hips jerked as his teeth scraped the skin of her neck.
“You’re killing me, angel,” he muttered. “Fuck!” It was a harsh bark, likely because her questing, needy fingers had finally found his erection.
Yes. The heated skin was swollen firm and covered with soft velvet, the tip already damp.
Her hand explored then encircled his length and pressed all that warm hardness against her soft stomach.
She moaned, or maybe it was him, when he pumped himself against her, jacking hard, once, twice, sliding against her insistent fingers.
His breathing harsh, he pulled his head back. “Jesus.” His pupils were blown black with need. He had a red mark on his neck—had she done that? “Allie. Angel. Slow down.”
He let out a husky, pained laugh when she slid her fingers up and down his length. He pressed his hips into her again for one breathless moment before he flipped her to her back and slid down her body.
“No,” she protested.
But he wasn’t leaving her. Instead, he spread her legs and knelt between them, his cock huge and needy. “There.” His husky voice overflowed with satisfaction. “That’s better.”
She rose up onto her elbows, glaring at him. But he wasn’t paying attention to her reaction. His eyes were on her wet, exposed core, and his intent expression melted some of her irritation, making a new excitement curl in her belly.
“I was about to come in my pants like a teenager,” he murmured before his eyes flicked up to hers. “Not today.”
She writhed a little, restless, indignant. “Cam...”
He chuckled. “Hush. Let me drive for a bit.”
He stroked her, both hands on the tender skin of her inner thighs, promising more. She let out a defeated moan and slumped back.
“Thank you,” he said.
His thumbs slid against her, opening her, and he bent down, his lips nuzzling. Seeking. Then he slipped his fingers into her heat, where she needed him so badly. Her hips jerked as she moaned, reaching for him reflexively.
Cam looked up, eyes meeting hers from his position between her legs. “God, angel. Tell me you want this.”
“Yes,” she said, her fingers locking into his short hair.
He exhaled against her, his breath damp and cool on her hot flesh, while his fingers played there as if he had all the time in the world. “You want me?”
Impatient, she moaned, moving her hips and working herself against his touch. “I said yes.”
“I’m driving right now, remember?” He eased back a little. “Say it,” he insisted, his voice deep and coaxing. “Say you’re wet for me, Allie.”
She went lightheaded from the deep, throbbing pulse of desire that followed his words.
Had anyone ever talked to her like this during sex?
Was it supposed to drive her insane with need?
She clutched the sheets with her free hand, trying to find enough leverage to rise up and get those fingers where she wanted them.
She ached for more pressure, to build it to the blinding peak she needed more than life itself.
She wanted him to know, to know what he’d done to her, beyond a shadow of a doubt. “Cam.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed a whimper when his teasing fingertips whispered against her swollen clit. “I’m... wet for you.”
She could feel his grin against the skin of her inner thigh before he rumbled, “Good girl,” and slid two fingers into her while the flat of his tongue found her clit.
The peak hit her all at once, and Allie screamed as she came, grinding up into his face, so wild as she rode the waves of her pleasure that she nearly shook him off entirely.
And yet he stayed there, worshipping her as her hips and legs shook and trembled through every part of her climax.
Her body throbbed, and colors flashed behind her tightly closed eyes.
When a tear leaked from the corner of one lid, she opened her dazed, damp eyes to find that he’d tilted his head back enough to watch her, his gaze alive with hot desire and something else.
Something deeper, more profoundly affectionate and caring.
Through it all, he kept moving his fingers gently, letting her ride out the rest of the aftershocks and tremors then easing her down.
When she covered her eyes with her hands, he gathered her in his arms and let her cry while he murmured soothing words and sounds that meant nothing in particular and everything in the world all at once.
Cam
Allie had just rocked his entire world, and now she was breaking his goddamn heart.
He didn’t try to stop the deluge of tears and emotion.
Instead, he held her close, willing the warmth of his skin to seep into hers and hoping she knew how much it meant to him that she trusted him, that she had invited him in.
He kept a steady stream of low, soothing words going, using them and his warm body to embrace her, to care for her, hoping it was enough.