Dark Paths: Apocalypse Riders (8 page)

When he stroked her bare nether lips with his fingers it was like an electric shock. She inhaled sharply as she stared up into his eyes. His finger dipped deeper between her folds and spread her moisture; his breathing hitched. “You’re so wet,” he said, “God…” His eyelids were heavy. He gently stroked her folds, murmuring encouragements as she moved with him. She felt like she was throbbing all over; she felt like she was burning up. When he pressed against her entrance, her desire became overwhelming. She clenched her teeth and gripped his arm with both hands; she didn’t know if she was trying to pull him closer or push him away, but it didn’t matter - the man was immovable.

“Call…” she gasped. She found herself trying to press against him again, as she had before, seeking more contact, seeking
more.
He remained still. “Please…” It was more of a croak than a word.

“Look up at me, baby.” Her eyes met his; then he was sliding his finger inside of her. Her lips parted in a soundless cry. Whatever he read on her face in that moment made his eyes blaze.

“Oh, God, Call…” Nothing had ever felt like that, nothing. When he withdrew and then slid inside her again, her hips lifted with him. “Please.”

“Please what, honey?” His voice was lower. Raspier.

“Again. Please.” He obliged - he slid his finger in and out of her in a slow and fluid motion, stroking her inner walls. She gaped up at him, captivated by the heat in his eyes. She could hardly believe how good he was making her feel. Waves of pleasure blazed through her, threatening to burn up all her control.

“You’re so tight,” he said, looking down between them. “And so damn wet. Shit.” He kissed her with a groan. “You like this, baby?”

“Yes.” She hissed the word between her teeth as she writhed against his hand. She released his arm and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

“That’s right, hang onto me. I’m gonna- ah. I’m gonna add another finger. Okay?” She nodded, pressing her cheek to his. She gasped as he pressed the two digits inside - she
was
tight, she realized. She tilted her hips, trying to ease the way as best she could. But though her walls stretched, she barely noticed the pain. The feeling of being so
filled
took her breath away. When he withdrew and thrust them back inside with more force, she cried out.

“Feels good?” he asked, doing it again.

“Yes,” she gasped, “Yes. Yes.” She wanted him to never stop. She moved with his hand as he thrust into her over and over. She could hear the wet sounds they made over the sound of her own panting, could smell herself on the air around them. Something coiled inside of her, tighter and tighter with every surge. Something explosive was building. She gripped his shirt in her fists.

He raised himself higher above her again so he could look down at her again. “Pretend its my cock, baby,” he said. He moved his body with his hand, rocking against her, and she moaned again, a low sound that never seemed to end. He whispered, “Pretend I’m inside you.”

“Oh, God…” Her breath came in short gasps.

“Look at me.” He pressed his pelvis against her hip - he rubbed his erection against her as he moved, as his fingers plunged into her again and again. “Look at me and pretend I’m making love to you right now.” As his lips founds hers, as he kissed her hard, the pad of his thumb rubbed her clit. She wailed against his mouth as her hips bucked from the ground. He rubbed her sensitive button and hissed, “Fuck, Lia. Come for me. Come for me, honey.”

The building sensation at her center spilled over; her core exploded with a burst of feverish heat. She gasped and panted and bucked beneath Call’s hand, all control lost as she gave in to the blissful pulses that wracked through her body. Her inner walls clenched his fingers over and over. She hardly recognized the noises she made as her own voice.

Call finally withdrew his fingers as her shudders subsided. He sank to her side and stroked her hair as she stared up at the ceiling and struggled to come back to earth.

She wanted to say something, anything, but no words came to her. So she rolled and buried her face in Call’s shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t mind. He chuckled. “You okay?”

“I think so.” She peered up at his face and felt a little sheepish. She’d never quite lost herself like that before. It was a lot to process. “I-”

He chuckled again and said, “Shh. You’re fine. Perfect, even.” He kept stroking his hair for a moment before sitting up. “We should sleep and leave here as early as we can when the sun comes up,” he said, unlacing his boots. She sat up beside him and watched, and noticed the bulge in his pants. She bit her lip.
How does this work? Am I supposed to do the same for him?

“Call, I… you’re… you got really, uh,
hard
. Do you want me to-”

“Shh. No. Nothing like that.” He tossed his boots aside and laid on his back, drawing her down with him.

“But you-”

“Hush.” He pulled her close so her head was resting on his shoulder. “Sleep.”

“You don’t want me to do, er, anything? At all?”

He released a shaky breath. “Appealing as that sounds, no. Not tonight. Some other time, honey, if and when you’re sure you’re ready.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and he kissed her forehead. She listened to his heartbeat, to his breathing as it slowed. She was scared - she
wasn’t
ready to do much of anything else. But she realized she wanted to be. She wanted to be ready for him, she wanted to stay with him. But would that be a betrayal? Wouldn’t her parents and wouldn’t Father Speer and her adopted family be so disappointed in her?
But my parents are dead. And I might never see the minister and the girls again. And he was wrong about Call. He was wrong.
She peered up at Call’s sleeping face - the dark stubble on his jaw contrasting with the light waves of his hair. This world was so different than the one her parents had raised her in - if they were watching down on her, they’d have to understand. They’d have to.

Call pushed them just as hard the next morning, driving straight for hours as fast as the bike would take them on the long and winding road ahead. He sped on and on until she was sure they would never stop. The wind stung her hands and face, tore her haphazard braids apart so her hair blew everywhere. The soreness returned to her back and legs. Even her arms screamed for relief as they roared past barren fields and ruined strip malls, burnt-out sheds and rotting wooden fence posts. She lost track of time, lost all sense of direction; she squeezed her eyes shut and hung on tight.

When he finally slowed she hardly realized what was happening. She let herself down from the bike before he’d pulled to a complete stop and fell, scraping her hands on the road.

“What the hell are you doing?” he barked. He jumped from the back of the bike and stood over her, frowning.

She sat back on her legs, not trusting her knees to hold if she stood. “I’m slowing you down,” she said, moving her head back and forth to work the stiffness out of her neck. “Leave me here if you need to. I can’t ride like this any longer.”

“You’ve got to relax,” he said, sinking into a crouch in front of her. “Don’t sit so tense. You won’t fall.”

“At that speed?!” She hated that it came out like a shriek, hated that she sounded so frail.

He sighed and took one of her hands in his. “I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t. Ever. You know it.”

“I know it,” she whispered. Her hand looked so small in his.

“C’mon. We’ll walk a bit, stretch our legs.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Maybe we’ll find a few corpses to kill.” She looked around. The landscape was changing. They’d stopped on a road lined with homes.
A suburb? How many miles have we covered?
She didn’t like it - too many places for the dead to be concealed, to jump out and surprise you.

On the other hand, shooting something might feel good. “All right.”

She led the way up the first driveway they reached. They weren’t low on supplies but it was never a bad idea to check. After the last few rest stops they’d visited, Call had a few bags with space for anything they found.
Soap. Soap would be fabulous.

Call remained in the front entrance while she ventured inside. “I’ll feel better if we don’t let anyone sneak on up from outside,” he said. “You go on. Shoot and I’ll come running.”

She explored the home silence. There was no sign of anything dead or alive, but she kept her guns loose in their holsters just to be safe. The kitchen had been completely picked over.
Figures. This street must be a main thoroughfare. I’ll bet we’d find stuff further in the neighborhood.
She found photos in the living room. Pictures of a family - two kids, a border collie, the mom and the dad. How long had it been since she’d lost her parents? It felt like a lifetime ago. Like she’d been a different person altogether. Father Speer and the girls were a more immediate loss - thinking of them made her heart ache and her stomach sink. Her parents felt so far away.
It’s almost like I was never there. I never lived that life. It wasn’t mine.
She left the frames where she found them.

She did find soap in the bathroom - that went in her pocket, along with a comb and some floss. Then Call shouted her name from the front of the house. She slid on the tiles in her rush to reach him.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide, gun in hand. She didn’t even know she’d drawn it.

“Hear that?”

She strained her ears. Somewhere, far away, she could hear an engine.
A motorcycle.
“Sounds far,” she said. “We should go.”

“It could be one of my guys.” He watched out the door as if he could see it up the road. It would be a while before it was that close, though.

“But could it be one of the other guys?” Her hands shook. She tucked the gun away. “We should just go.”

He shook his head. “It’s one bike. We’ll face them, whoever they are. What if one of your girls is with whoever that is?”

She hadn’t thought of that.

He made her wait on the roof with her guns ready. She stood on the incline with her shotgun resting on her shoulder. Call waited below in the street. She spotted the bike before he did and waved for his attention. “It’s only one guy,” she said. “A few packs. Can’t see much else.”

“Keep aim on him when he gets close.”

The bike slowed as the driver noticed the figure standing in the road. Call stood unmovable and confident. He held no weapon and showed no fear.
He trusts me to cover him. He trusts me to shoot if this guy makes a move, even if I don’t want to shoot him.
She aimed her gun.

The man dismounted and removed his sunglasses. They stood frozen for a moment - then both visibly relaxed and approached each other, arms outstretched until they crashed in a relieved hug. “Come on down!” Call shouted to her as they broke apart.
A friend. Thank God.
She crawled back inside through the window.

The man whistled as she stepped out onto the street. He was taller than Call, but leaner, and his short-cropped black hair was peppered with white. “Girly if you’d shot me that gun’s kick woulda knocked you clear off the roof!”

Not if I know what I’m doing.
But she bit her tongue.

“This is Ripp,” Call said, “He’s with us.” She’d gathered as much now that she was close enough to see his vest. “Ripp, this is Lia.”

“Nice to meet you, Lia. Nothin’ hotter than a little lady with a big gun, if you ask me.”

She turned red. “She didn’t ask you,” Call said with a wry grin. “What brings you this way? Did you break up the herd? Find any survivors?”

“Half-yes to both of those questions, but man, we’ve got to get moving. I wouldn’t have come this way if I knew you were here. I’ve got Satan’s Dickheads about to drive right on up my asshole.”

“Shit.”

“The same gang?” Lia asked Call, looking between the two men.

“Satan’s Remains, yes. We had a little run-in ourselves.”

“Let’s ride, man,” Ripp said, “They’re low on gas and they’re far from home. If we make it as far as Chatham, we’ll shake ‘em. I’m sure of it.”

“You’ll be okay?” Call asked her.

“Well I’m sure not going to stay here,” she said, striding back towards the place they’d stashed the bike.
I’ll ride until my legs fall off if it means I don’t have to kill anyone.