Chapter 9 #2
"What if I'm not ready?" Her fingers were curling into fists and opening again as she tagged after him, heading up the hall that was lit by emergency generator lights.
"I'd tell you," he said simply, and headed into the firing range.
It wasn't usually in use in the evening, but he wanted to give her one last run-through at assembling and taking apart the weapons and check out her handling of them one more time as well.
They stood together in familiar stances, firing side by side, and Michael put his own gun down, coming around to stand behind her one more time, correcting the tiniest of movements that couldn't possibly matter because no way the vampires were going to let her get into a firing stance and take the time for a countdown and deep breath.
She started to say that, the gun still pointed down in her hands, the safety still on, when he kissed the back of her neck.
So lightly. Like a butterfly grazing her skin.
She hadn't felt anything that gentle and light since the invasion had changed the world overnight.
She couldn't help wanting the drama, where the girl drops everything and the man sweeps her into his arms and carries her away.
There was no away for him to carry her to, and if she dropped everything, someone would get shot.
But there was a minimum of time wasted holstering their weapons and hanging those holsters in safety lockers.
They had more privacy in the firing cubicle than they would if they left it. Everywhere they went in the boutique was full of people and the underground storage turned into a safe zone and the firing range, storage and weapons lockers.
Or maybe it never occurred to them to go anywhere else.
The instant the guns were secured he did sweep her into his arms and she did forget about everything else.
Her hands traced the muscles in his chest, palms sliding up hard over pecs to traps, her fingers in his hair for an instant before she had her arms around his neck, pulling herself higher and harder up his body.
Michael's hands ran over her braid, the thick rope of dark auburn she kept tightly controlled. He released the tie on it, combed through it with his fingers, letting it fall in waves around her face, the whole time kissing her.
His mouth was warm, his tongue meeting hers felt like magic, an electrical connection that sent sparks racing through her body to surface at unexpected points.
She wanted him to kiss the inside of her wrists, the point inside her elbow where blood might be drawn, where bi-monthly taxes were taken out at local blood banks.
She wanted, just for a minute, to erase the Vampyren and their mark on the world, to pretend they'd met through some other crisis or some other exercise she put herself through.
Martial arts could have turned to learning to shoot without ever having lost the planet to aliens.
His hands on her back pulled her close, fumbled at her clothes. There was no time for anything tender or slow. Neither of them was looking for delicate.
His mouth on her throat was a sharp surprise, a nip, as if claiming territory. She laughed and clawed at his back, grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt and hauled it over his head until her hands were on flesh.
Clothes came off in uneven amounts, the two of them coming together to lick and suck and bite at what was already exposed, to touch and shudder at unexpected pleasures, just the feel of human flesh.
In the year since the Vampyren came, hooking up became a lost art.
There were enough compromised humans to make anyone new something of a threat, or at least someone to beware of.
Her mind churned, visions of the last weeks playing frantic behind them, everything that had led her to this place and this minute.
And then her wild thoughts caught up to the moment and there was nothing but Michael's mouth kissing down her naked torso, the warmth of his breath, the rough feel of tongue and teeth lapping at her breasts, then biting lightly.
Where once she had liked to be held down, her wrists maybe locked together over her head by one strong masculine hand while the other roamed her body, taking liberties and bringing fire, now she craved the freedom to move and response and not to feel the fear of being held down.
She'd been untouched by the aliens. But it had been too long since she was touched by anyone else.
Into her hair, he said, "I've wanted this since I met you."
She breathed out an agreement, even as he backed her into a wall and ran both hands down her back, his hands caressing her hips, then following the curve of her ass to pull her up into his arms, her back braced against the wall, her legs locking around his waist as his erection found her slick, hot folds and teased her for an endless, decadent second before he slid hard into her.
She gasped, feeling the fullness of him, how hard and huge he felt, as if she were a virgin again it had been so long.
Instead of closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and looked into his, and found him looking back, both of them half crazed and half aware of themselves and each other, of pleasure and lust.
He took up a rhythm, pumping into her, making her grunt and lock herself around him more tightly. At that angle, he managed to graze her clit with every thrust, making her spark with pleasure, her hands locked around him as if he held her above a giant chasm, not just against a wall.
She never lost herself. It wasn't passion, it was physical release, it was emotional connection. In another time and place they might have met and spent a few weeks at dating only to hook up and move on.
Somehow in their altered world, it now meant both more and less. The freedom to be human and the knowledge there was nothing here that would last.
The moment was enough. When she came, the boutique, the training, the fear, the Vampyren, everything faded and blacked out for an instant, there was nothing but the feel of his cock emptying itself inside her, her own body pulsing and ripping with pleasure.
They slid down the wall together, and what should have been a scramble at clothes or an embarrassment at excess turned into something else.
She lay in the curl of his arms. One arm circled her shoulders, her head on his chest. The other played down her body.
She watched his hand move, the tiny blond hairs catching the relentless overhead light.
His long fingers stroked the skin along her collarbone as if there was time for subtleties and pleasure.
His hand grazed her breast, slid down her flat belly and came back up to cup her breast, thumb flicking over the nipple until that sensation buzzed hot and electric, sending want through her again.
She stirred, starting to reach, but he leaned up on one elbow over her, kissing her mouth, pushing her down so he pleasured her, taking his time.
His hand continued down her body, caressing the inner curl of her hip.
She moved under him, the anxious need to hurry changing to a hunger to feel his touch everywhere, to experience whatever he chose to give.
He stroked down her legs, fingers massaging muscles there that ached from daily training. That was almost as pleasurable as sex itself, she thought.
Until his hand came back up, this time on the inside of her thighs.
His thumb went unerringly to her clit. His fingers curled so they could play at her entrance, just touching, not entering, until she made little noises, pushing herself up so she could find his mouth, kissing him, her hands now running down his sides, pulling him close, then pushing him off, far enough that she could feel him hard between them, ready again, slick from their mingled juices already, hard and thick so she could wrap her fingers around him, squeezing and then stroking up and down.
He moaned into her mouth, his hands stilling, then changed his angle so he could slide his fingers inside her, making her moan into his mouth, her legs opening wider as if more of him could press up inside her, filling her.
He didn't break the kiss but his touch grazed her gently, pulling away, and he moved so he covered her body with his, his erection now between her legs, his forearms on either side of her head as he kissed her and arched up, positioning himself before he slid inside her, filling her.
Her legs went around his, pulling him tight into her, trapping him there, limiting his range of motion and her range of response, so he thrust into her, as if only thrusting in, and in, and in, never out, only burying himself deeper inside her.