Chapter 10
A week later, it’s not even dawn yet, and I’m wide awake with Micah’s cock in my mouth.
My entire body is pulsing with the pleasure of it.
He’s never asked for a blow job like Jesse used to, but we got going earlier with some slow, lingering foreplay and it turned into this.
Scooting down his body and licking a line down his hard cock was a spontaneous impulse, fed by how openly Micah was enjoying the way I was kissing down his chest. Now I’ve got as much of him as I can manage in my mouth, and I’m sucking and bobbing my head for all I’m worth.
And I love it.
So does Micah. He’s moaning uninhibitedly and working his hips with my rhythm. He’s got both hands on my head to guide my motion—deliciously entitled but not pushy. My back hurts from my awkward position, and he has enough girth that he’s filling my mouth. But it’s thrilling.
Thrilling.
That he’s giving himself over to me this way.
When I can tell he’s close—he always starts muttering, “Fuck, yes, baby,” in a soft, thick rasp—I slide my hand between my legs so I can rub my aching clit.
It feels so good I groan around his cock.
His whole body shakes, and his fingers tighten against my scalp, holding my head in place so he can fuck my mouth from below.
I rub my clit with fast, hard pressure. Suck harder and take him deeper.
And that does it.
He comes hard. Right down my throat. And so do I, the pleasure exploding and then pulsing in waves through my body.
When I’ve come down and sucked him dry, I cough slightly to clear the ejaculate but have no regrets at all as I straighten up and look down at his sprawled, naked body.
My hair is loose because Micah likes to pull it out of my braid, and I’m wearing no more clothes than he is. After we fucked in bed last night, I was so hot I didn’t put anything on, so I slept naked.
His eyes are open and running from my face to my bare breasts with warm, sated languor. He’s almost smiling. He really needs to shave.
“Thank you, baby.” He reaches up to pull me down beside him so he can wrap an arm around me. “I didn’t expect that kind of treat this morning. Give me a minute, and I can do you too if you want.”
“Nah, no need. I took care of myself.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you did. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
“What? Blow jobs or taking care of myself?”
“Both. Best I ever knew.”
I couldn’t ask for a better compliment to start the day.
We had some success fishing and hunting this past week, so the provisions I got from Cleverly have lasted a whole week, even with two of us eating them.
But we’re out of eggs and nearly out of bread now, so it’s time to get more.
Over our breakfast of the last of the goat cheese spread over toast, I tell Micah, “I need to get some more food today.”
“Okay. No problem. Back to Cleverly.” He’s on the bench, leaning back against the side of the camper. His beard is more unruly than ever, and even the hair on his head, which he normally keeps short, is growing out. It must be wavier than I realized because it bends and curls in odd directions.
“What’s funny?” Micah asks in a different tone.
“Nothing. Just realizing why you keep your hair cut so short.”
He snorts and rubs a big hand through his hair. “It’s ridiculous when it’s long.”
“I kind of like it.”
“You kinda would.” His eyes are warm and laughing. “The word for you is contrary.”
That makes me smile. He makes me smile. I never would have expected that when I found him collapsed in my camp twelve days ago.
Shaking away the fond amusement, I return to the previous conversation. “I’m actually not going to Cleverly today. I’m going to the Market.”
“The Market?” His tone is just as casual as normal, and nothing has changed in his face. But it feels like something has tensed up inside him.
It’s odd. And unexpected. I frown. “Do you know the Market?”
“Of course not. Never heard of it. Just didn’t expect there to be anything like a market around here.” He sounds and looks perfectly normal now.
Assuming I imagined the weirdness, I shrug it off.
“It’s not like any markets that used to be.
But there’s a place farther into the woods where locals do their trades on Thursdays.
It’s in Logan’s territory, but he’s usually not around.
I don’t go every week because it’s a really long hike, but it’s the only place I can get fresh vegetables, so I make the trip once a month.
We can take some of the supplies we scavenged last week and trade them for vegetables.
Some folks grow and can tomatoes, so hopefully we can get some of those too. ”
Micah is silent.
I pick up more of those tense vibes. “It’s a really long hike, so it’s fine if you don’t want to come. You’re healing up pretty good, but you’re not well yet.”
“I’m fine. I’ll come for sure. I know you’ve made the trip tons of times on your own, but it’s safer together than on our own.
But I might stay out of the way when we get there.
I’m a little wary of being around a lot of people.
There might be stragglers hanging about from that gang that’s after me. I’d rather them not know where I am.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” I’m relieved by this explanation for his unusual reticence. It felt for a moment like he was hiding secrets. “That makes perfect sense to me. We’ll have to get going pretty soon if we’re going to get there and back before dark.”
Micah takes his final bite of cheese toast. “I’m ready anytime.”
I wasn’t exaggerating to Micah. It’s a long hike through woods that get thicker and more overgrown the deeper we go. It’s a little past noon before we reach the ragtag community near the Market.
After some discussion, I leave Micah nearby in the woods, in shouting distance from the Market in case it comes to that, and walk into the large clearing where a table is set up for negotiating trades.
There are always folks hanging around the perimeter on market days.
It’s one of the few times that people gather in any numbers.
Most of them are regulars I recognize but never talk to.
I see a few of Logan’s soldiers, including the big man who never talks and a small woman with a long, braided ponytail who’s with him fairly often.
Despite the size difference, I’ve always assumed the two are a couple. Not that I’ve seen them acting remotely lovey-dovey. It just feels like they’re together.
She’s pregnant, I realize, when I give her a quick once-over. There’s a noticeable curve to her belly under her shirt.
Shit. Talk about scary. I’d be terrified to get pregnant in the world after Impact.
I brush off the distraction as I get in line at the trading table. It’s a little slower than normal, and almost thirty minutes pass before I get to the front.
The woman I talk to is in her fifties. She looks over my assortment of toiletries and over-the-counter medication.
It’s a good haul. I should get a lot for it.
We barter back and forth a few times until we agree on the standard weekly provisions (bread, goat cheese, and eggs) with a sack of vegetables and canned tomatoes, plus a slab of bacon and two packs of homemade jerky.
I’m pleased with my loot and have trouble carrying it all out of the Market clearing and into the woods where I left Micah. I haven’t gotten into the trees yet when a smarmy voice says, “Need help with all that, little lady?”
I whirl around and grab for my gun. I don’t pull it out of my belt holster but keep my hand near it when I see the speaker is one of Logan’s men.
It’s the greasy guy I sometimes see in Cleverly. My heart races, and my palms go cold.
It would be foolish beyond measure to aim a gun at one of Logan’s soldiers, but I really don’t like this guy. I don’t trust him.
“I’m fine. I don’t need help.”
“You can’t carry all that stuff and hike all the way home by your lonesome.”
He doesn’t know where I live. He doesn’t. But he knows I’m often in Cleverly, so he must guess it’s a distance away from here.
“I’m not alone,” I say firm and loud but as nonconfrontationally as I can manage.
I’m always defensive though. My attempts at being nonconfrontational don’t always work.
“Now whatcha gettin’ all upset ’bout,” the greasy man says. “I ain’t gonna hurt such a pretty little thing.”
“I’m not bothering anyone,” I say, just as loud. “I’d like to be left alone.”
The big guy and the pregnant woman are walking toward us. The woman is frowning in the greasy guy’s direction, and the big guy is doing some sort of sign language with her.
He must not simply be quiet. He must not be able to talk at all.
My eyes are darting back and forth between the greasy guy and the approaching couple. Hopefully the woman is coming to defuse the situation and not make it worse. But she works for Logan, just like the men.
I wouldn’t trust Logan’s people to ever do the right thing.
Damn Logan.
“Now, why you actin’ all standoffish? I just—”
“She said she wants to be left alone!”
I gasp at the deep, familiar voice coming from behind me as Micah steps out of the surrounding woods.
A rush of relief washes over me. I was fine—I’m sure I’d probably have been fine—but Micah’s presence is going to change everything.
A man like this greasy guy will respond to Micah’s physical strength in a way he’d never respond to a smallish woman like me.
But my deep relief is short-lived. What I expect to happen now doesn’t happen at all.
At all.
The greasy guy’s eyes go wide. “Micah? Fuckin’ shit, man, is that really you? I thought you kicked the bucket months ago!”
Shock is lodged in my throat, nearly stopping my breath as I stare between the guy and Micah, who has stepped forward so he’s beside me.
Then something else unexpected happens. The small, pregnant woman lets out an excited squeal and starts running.
Until she’s thrown herself right into Micah’s arms in an exuberant hug.
“Oh my God, Micah,” she says. “We thought you were dead!”
“Hey, Lilah. Good to see you too. But don’t squeeze me quite so hard. I got shot a couple weeks ago.”
The woman, clearly named Lilah, lets him go with a gasp. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Before Micah can say anything else, the big, mute guy has come over with a grin to greet him by pounding him on the back.
I let out a long, slow breath as my heart and my stomach sink slowly.
I should have known.
I should have known.
Micah is one of Logan’s soldiers. Everything he said about his background makes even more sense with this final piece of the puzzle.
Of course he is.
Why would I ever think anything else?
Why did I believe he was better than that?
I swallow hard and take a step away from him, still wary because there are a lot more of them than there are of me. And, sure, Lilah and the big guy appear friendly. Not dangerous at all.
But that doesn’t mean they aren’t.
I didn’t think Micah was dangerous either.
Micah is shooting me a series of quick, worried looks. He knows what I’m thinking. He knows I’m withdrawing.
This was exactly why he didn’t want to show himself at the Market. It wasn’t about that gang who’s after him.
If there’s even a gang at all.
His whole backstory might have been full of lies.
“Thank God you’re back,” Lilah says, smiling so warmly it’s impossible for me to believe she’s anything but sincere. She obviously loves Micah for real. “No word on Burgundy?”
Micah shakes his head, his mood falling in that way it always does when his sister crosses his mind.
Lilah’s expression falls too. “I’m so sorry. I miss her so much. But you’re back now?”
“No, I’m not really back.” Micah looks stiff. Oddly trapped. “I mean, I’m not joining up again. We’re just here today to trade.”
Lilah’s smile has transformed into a confused frown as she looks from Micah to me and then back. “So you weren’t even going to let us know you’re all right?”
“I would’ve eventually. But I had a lot of stuff goin’ on. I was shot. And… things are different.”
She’s disappointed in him. I can see that as clear as day. She trusted him, and he let her down.
I know the feeling.
“Okay. I get it. But Logan’s going to want to see you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know it.” He opens his mouth to continue but clearly changes his mind. His features twist briefly before he says in a forced casual tone. “I’ll see him when I’m ready.”
“Okay.” Lilah sounds dubious, and she looks up at the big guy, who has put a supportive hand on her back. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m not the same, but I’m fine.”
Lilah shifts her focus to me again and smiles. “I’m Lilah.”
“Kat,” I tell her with a nod to return the greeting.
“I’ve seen you around. I always thought you were on your own.”
“I am.” I feel Micah shifting beside me like he has a silent objection to this statement, but I ignore it.
“If you ever need help, just let us know.”
I know what she’s saying. I even understand why she’s offering it. But I don’t want it. I never have.
“Thanks. I mean it. But I don’t want or need Logan’s help.”