Author: Kylie Scott

“That’s nice. But you do tend to do that.” Roslyn sat down on the end of their mattresses and tugged at her shoelaces, toed off her joggers. It had been a seriously long day. Her shoulder ached. “I have noticed.”

They’d been at St Catherine’s for a week. The rambling building had been converted into an Art Gallery/Cafe/Gift Shop some years back. Today they’d finished sorting the remaining foodstuffs in the cafe, taken the rotted and or otherwise useless goods out back to be burned or buried. Mattresses and sheets and so on had been gathered from nearby shops and houses to stuff inside the ‘cells’. While far from roomy, at least these cells didn’t have bars on the doors. They were comfortable enough, though the nights regularly dropped to zero degrees Celsius.

Apparently the good folk of Blackstone didn’t tend to come this way on account of the climb up the mountains chewing up gas. Plus, St Catherine’s sat on the edge of a tourist town. All the folky arts and crafts you could hope for, but farming supplies? Not so much.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Ali, Dan and Finn,” he said, obviously going somewhere with all this. Probably nowhere good, knowing him.

“I know. Isn’t it beautiful to see people so in love?” She lay back on the bed and grinned at the hot man currently glowering at her. “So refreshing after all the bloodshed and violence.”

Nick grunted and knelt on the end of the bed. He reached back and tugged off his own boots. “That wasn’t what you were thinking about when you looked at them.”

“No? Wow,” she drawled. “Can you really read minds now, Nicky? That is so cool. So what was I thinking?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” The man gave her a hard little smile and her belly quivered. Her belly and her sex. And maybe her knees too, damn it. Fortunately she was lying down.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe I can read your mind. Or maybe everything you think shows up on your face.”

She scoffed. “It does not.”

He just looked at her.

“Does it?”

“Without fail.”

“So what was I thinking, then?” she asked.

He bent forward and undid the button on her jeans, followed by the zipper. “You were thinking about what it would be like to fuck two men at the same time.”

“Such smutty thoughts have never entered my brain.” Actually, she had been wondering. Wildly curious and then some. Her imagination had run overtime, he was right. Ali was a lucky, lucky girl having those two big hot men at her disposal. Not that Roslyn wasn’t content with her one surly male, but still … two. Some people were enjoying their apocalypse a little too much.

So, yes, there had been the odd covetous thought involved. She even had the common decency to experience a twinge of guilt over it.

Nick pulled her jeans and knickers down her legs and tossed them into a corner of the small room. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s fine, just a little stiff. I used the sling for most of the day. I didn’t lift anything heavy.”

“Good.” He started in on the buttons on her shirt.

The brush of his hands over her bare skin gave her shivers as he pushed back the material. No bra, courtesy of the still-vivid bruise across her chest. Her perky nipples rose to the occasion, of course. Her body was a fool for him. Her heart and mind weren’t far behind.

“I just don’t want you feeling like you’re missing out on something,” he said.

“Nick, I’m not.” She reached out for him and he came to her, pressing his mouth to hers in a distinctly hot kiss. Had she thought the air cool? Forget that. This man had her overheated in moments. Their tongues tangled and his hands slipped into her hair. But still he stayed on his knees, hovering high above her.

“But just in case …” he said, pulling back from her.

“What?”

“I picked up a few things for you in town today.” He reached for the backpack he’d come in with and pulled something out. When she tried to sit up to see what he pushed her back down with a hand to her good shoulder. “Don’t strain your shoulder. Lie back. Relax.”

“What is it?”

“You can either lie back and relax like a good girl, or I can go play cards with Duncan and Joe,” he said. “Your choice.”

Shit. She’d seen that look on his face often enough to know he meant it. Hard-on tenting the front of his jeans or no, the man would walk out on her. He loved letting his inner control freak out to play when it came to sex. Sadly, she enjoyed it just as much.

“I’m lying still,” she said.

“Good. Though I need you on your stomach, so let me help you roll over.” Big hands helped her to wriggle into position. He slipped a pillow beneath her shoulders, another beneath her hips. “There we go. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” Comfortable, but dubious. “What are you up to, Nicky?”

“You’ll see.” His fingers trailed over the curves of her ass then slipped down between her legs, caressing her inner thighs. And pushing steadily outward. “Spread, sweetheart.”

She did so. Of course she did. The man made her a shallow puddle of sex-starved ooze without even trying.

Shuffling noises behind her. Warm breath on the small of her back. Hot, damp kisses on a butt cheek. And the sound of …

“What have you got? What is that?” she demanded, trying to turn her head far enough to see.

Nick’s face came into view instead. “I think they’re playing poker tonight. Should I go find out for sure?”

“No.”

“I think you need a safe word,” he said.

“Why? What are you going to do that’s so bad?”

He stared back at her, face much too calm. “When your shoulder’s healed, I’m going to tie you up and gag you so we can’t have these discussions.”

“I don’t think that’s the point of BDSM, if that’s what you’re attempting.”

“You’ve read about it?” he asked.

“A book or two, here and there. Maybe. I’ve never done anything, but …”

Another grunt. What did a grunt even mean, really? Lucky she trusted this Neanderthal.

“It interests you.” He kissed the back of her neck, took a roll of skin beneath his teeth and toyed with it. It felt weird but nice, ticklish almost. His voice sounded husky against her ear. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You talk as much as you want and I’m going to go about my business, down here.” Big, threatening hands smoothed over her buttocks. “Unless you say, ‘I hate you’.”

“What? No. I promised to never say that to you again.”

“I know. Best safe word ever.”

“Nick, that’s cheating. And it’s not funny.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Calm down. How about … ‘wattle’?”

“Wattle?”

“Yeah. It was the name of our cabin. And it’s not a word you’re going to say by accident.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing a bit. “That’s nice. ‘Wattle’ it is. But I still think you should leave my butt alone. You have enough holes at your disposal.”

“I disagree.” His trailed kisses down her spine, fingers massaging her ass. “You either trust me, and let me experiment a little to see if you like it, or you say ‘wattle’.”

Damn it, he was serious. Fear and excitement fought it out inside her. So of course, she talked. “You know, it sounds vaguely like ‘waddle’, like a duck. Don’t you think?”

He ignored her.

His tongue slid through the divide between her cheeks and her hands fisted in the blanket. This too felt weird but nice, and unnerving. More shuffling noises. Capable hands opened her up, exposing her poor defenceless butthole to the pervert. How nerve-wracking. She hid her face in the pillow.

“Nick, I’m not sure about this.”

Still no reply.

Kiss after kiss he laid around the area. The back of the top of her thighs were particularly sensitive. A thumb rubbed over her tightly puckered anus, massaging. God help her, then his tongue was there, flicking over it, teasing her open. All those little nerve endings fired to life, thoroughly weirded out at the new, if perhaps pleasurable, sensation.

“You can’t kiss me there,” she said, her words muffled.

“Why not?” His tongue dipped down, lapping over her pussy. That she knew and recognized and enjoyed just fine. She arched her hips, silently begging for more and he gave it, bless him. A hand slipped beneath her, putting pressure on her clit. His teeth tortured her in the best way possible, gently playing with the lips of her sex. Everything low in her lit up, her stomach tightening and blood rushing. She almost didn’t notice the tip of his thumb pushing at her rear, slowly gaining entrance past the tight ring of muscle.

“Nick,” she gasped.

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous everywhere,” he said, mouth moving against her sex in the very best way. His words sent tremors through her. “Stop fighting me, Ros. Relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“Good girl.”

He tongued her sex while he played with her rear. Never going too far, just teasing the entrance. Then the thumb was gone and his mouth moved up. Noises. She could hear noises again. Her ears were on high alert. Something plasticky-sounding was being opened behind her.

“What are you doing now?” she asked. “What is that?”

“Ssshh.”

Lube was squirted between her cheeks and she squealed. Damn it, what a godawful noise. But nothing was ladylike about this. A finger pushed at her hole, in a little, out a little. Steadily, slowly, it worked its way into her. Impossible not to grab at it with her muscles.

“Oh. That feels so odd.”

His finger worked deeper into her until it was slipping in and out with ease. She could feel it, the pressure in that oddest of places. Her ass as an erogenous zone, who’d have guessed? Her empty sex wept and the pad of his hand rubbed at her mound and her clit. Happily, she pushed right back, seeking contact. His ministrations were getting her worked up. She was more than a little desperate for it. The edge of the pillow teased her hard nipples. Holy hell, she could come from this. She really could. A little more stimulation and everything would be superb.