Reawakening (6 page)

It seemed so unlike them.

“Okay, June. So what we’re going to have to do now is check. We’re going to have to check that you haven’t been bitten.”

But then so did words like those. Though even stranger was this feeling inside her, this almost-compulsion that said—
yeah, they definitely need to check
. Because, well…why? Blake had seen her the whole time and he knew she hadn’t been bitten or contaminated in any way. If anything,
he
was the one who needed to be checked.

Only when he put a hand on her arm and urged her to turn, she found herself going all the same. She had absolutely no idea why he wanted her to face the love heart couch, but it
felt
like the right thing to do. Everything felt suddenly so syrupy and nice, and he had very gentle hands.

Especially when he placed them on her shoulders and pressed fingers to the twin knots where her collarbone began. That felt extremely gentle and sort of…deliberate. Then Jamie said,
lift your arms up
, and it was kind of easy to. He had such a good, drawling voice. Not even drawling, really. More like…a
swaying
sort of voice.

And Blake’s was good, too. He made it faint and dipped it in a little butter before he next spoke, so that when he did she felt perfectly okay about having her arms above her head.

Like I’m going to be frisked
, she thought, shortly before he did just that. His hands simply slid right down, all along her sides and over her ribcage, to her hips.

It was almost unbearably intimate. Far worse than any sort of ruder touch—maybe because she couldn’t remember any other man making such a strange move. The other men laser-ed in on the obvious areas—tits, cunt, ass—and ignored anything that didn’t get them anywhere.

Not that Blake was trying to get anywhere, though, of course. If he really wanted to get somewhere he could just force her, after all. He didn’t have to make up some strange pretext then run his hands down her sides. Then back up again. Then down, down, then…oh. Oh.

She thought about her arms and legs turning to noodles, back there by the fence. Had they actually re-established solidity? It was hard to say when he had his hands on her hips and Jamie said somewhere behind her, kind of breathlessly, “Yeah check underneath—check underneath the shirt. You know, ‘cause they could have gotten underneath.”

There was a brief moment of feeling like a science project, then custard invaded her brain and made her think something patently ridiculous, like—
yeah, they could have definitely crawled inside my shirt and nibbled on whatever Blake’s touching right now. Definitely. He should probably touch it more.

Of course, she tried to focus. Zombies were outside! They were going to die! But it was getting kind of hard to remember that stuff when he had his hands right. Underneath. Her breasts.

He had them there, but he didn’t move upwards and touch them. Instead he let his hands glide down over her bare stomach—she was actually able to watch them go beneath the material, like something crawling and creeping that she should be afraid of.

Only she wasn’t, she wasn’t. He was standing very close—so close she could feel his hot breath on the nape of her neck—but there wasn’t anything threatening about it. Tense, yes. But not threatening.

And maybe it was only tense because she couldn’t bear to move. If she moved he might go away, and Jamie would go away, and she couldn’t bear that. No, no—she had to stay still and let him slide her sweatpants over her hips.

They went very slowly to the ground and once they were gone a million threads inside her went slack. It was kind of like letting go of everything—even the things outside—and that was okay by her.

Especially when he ran those hands over her thighs, too.
Just like being frisked, just like being frisked
, she thought—only not. His hands were too slow for frisking, for a start. And when he let them glide back up her left leg—hands forming a circle that was neither too tight, nor too soft—he went all the way to the top. Right over the bristling skin of her inner thigh, to the place where her panties had pulled taut.

Of course her panties had pulled taut. Her sex felt immense—like a clenched fist between her legs. There was a thrum thrum thrum in that place like nothing she’d experienced in over two years.

Now it had returned to her and it had apparently brought its friends.

“You okay, June-bug?” Jamie said, and she thought about saying no. No, this is really out of place and weird. Can we stop, please?

But instead her mouth went with, “Yeah. Never been better.”

Because that was true. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as warm and relaxed and okay with the world, as she did right at that moment. It made her wonder if there was some pot she’d smoked without knowing—soothing pot for those
you’re going to die
moments—but that was just stupid.

Even if Jamie really did have a stash—she suspected as much when she caught him off guard sometimes and he smelled a certain way—she’d certainly never partaken of it. She’d never even partaken of it before the apocalypse—doing it afterwards just seemed like asking for trouble.

Like now, when being faux-stoned was making her stand here and get felt up.

He was definitely feeling her up, after all. Of course he was doing it in a really nice, subtle sort of way, but even so. He had a hand on her inner thigh. His fingers were almost rubbing her in the place she needed it most…

“She seems clear,” he said, and she could have fallen to begging, then. Just told him in no uncertain terms—
carry on, carry on. Use your mouth, if you have to.
She’d started shuddering again and it had nothing to do with the creatures outside.

It was a joyous thing, instead. A good thing. She gave into it, that shaking, rather than pulling away or forcing herself not to or any of the other things she always did, when faced with a kind of weakness.

Only this
wasn’t
weakness. It felt good, and strong. Right, after all the wrong things. And especially when Jamie then said—

“You should keep touching her anyway.”

The shuddering got worse. Suddenly she understood why they had a couch in here—because she needed to sit down. She desperately needed to sit down and have them sit down with her, then maybe they could do so many lovely, tangled things together. Yes, yes, so many things.

“Are you sure?” Blake asked, though she didn’t know who the question was directed at. Not even when Jamie answered.

“Yeah, pretty sure. It looks like she wants you to.”

God, how clever Jamie was! He seemed silly sometimes but she’d always known somewhere inside that him being that way was all just obfuscation. A defense mechanism. He probably had weird PTSD, the way she did.

Because she did. Couldn’t be denied. The things outside had robbed her of something vital, and it was only just coming back. Slow, slow—like Blake’s hands on her.

He didn’t acknowledge what Jamie had said, but carried on anyway. She could feel and hear him standing again behind her, then after a moment his hands were on the curve of her back. The one just above her ass. His thumbs pressed in, briefly—the way they had at her collarbone—but this time she knew exactly why. He’d found the two dimples, on either side of her spine.

And apparently, he
liked
them. Not only that, but he seemed to like the nape of her neck, too. The one revealed by the ponytail she’d knotted her hair into, before she ran out the door. And she felt really glad she’d done that now, because it meant he could press his mouth there whenever the urge took him.

The urge was taking him now. He had his mouth on her—the one that sometimes looked like a slash and sometimes looked vulnerable, the one she’d thought about kissing even when she was sure she hadn’t.

And oh it was softer than she’d imagined—or maybe he was just being gentle? She couldn’t tell, exactly. It was hard, when her body felt suddenly swamped by all sorts of sensations. There was the sensation wetness provoked like a hot electrical eel zipping straight down to that place between her legs. There was the heat of his mouth, and that made a tense fist low down in her stomach.

Then finally there was the knowledge that it was him. Blake was kissing the nape of her neck, and somewhere in the middle of doing it he had found her hips with his hands, again.

Only they felt much bigger, now. Immense, in fact. He had his great big hands on her hips and he was urging her back, just ever so slightly. Not like a tough guy, yanking her back into the cradle of his groin. More like someone
seducing
her back into the cradle of his groin.

His way was good. But it wasn’t fast enough. She simply had to put a hand behind herself and feel blindly for something on him—his hair, his face, his neck. Anything. Something solid she could use to get them closer together in half the time, so that maybe he’d know without her having to say that this was okay.

Hell, when Jamie said
is she wet
? That was okay too, apparently. Her body sure thought so, at any rate. Everything immediately went on high alert and high alert seemed to mean a sudden fat, swelling sensation between her legs.

She thought about replying
yeah
.
Yeah, I’m really wet. I’m soaking, there’s been a flood. I guess you guys have poked a hole in the dam because something’s sure different down there.

But luckily she didn’t have to go into any of that nonsense. No. Blake was helpful enough to fill Jamie in, by
putting his hand inside her panties, then telling him
.

How kind
, she thought.
Really considerate of him, to spare me the trouble.

And it was, it really was. Especially when he got to the in-the-panties portion of the consideration. He simply slid his hand down over her belly and there it was. Underneath the material and over her by-this-point absolutely bursting sex.

She was only surprised his hand didn’t explode into flames. Her clit felt so swollen, so full and aching, she didn’t know how he managed to miss it on his first glide through her soaking slit.

But he did, because he was a fucking tease. The pair of them were nothing but tormenting, maddening, glorious bastards, and if the whole thing hadn’t seemed so bonkers, she would have demanded they do her right there and then.

Instead, she had to endure this. His fingers stroking her everywhere but the place she needed it most, getting slicker by the second and oh then, then his hot breath against her ear.

Because he was moaning. Just a little. Nothing more than a slightly hoarse inhale, really—but it was there. And it was there because he was stroking her and she was embarrassingly wet. She knew it was. He told Jamie as much, as though she wasn’t there.

“She’s so slippery,” he said, and her knees really did buckle. She had to clutch at him, if only for support.

But that was okay because he seemed to understand. They both did. Blake had his hands somewhat occupied, obviously, but Jamie didn’t and he just came around and told her something lovely like
it’s all right, June, I gotcha
.

He did, too. He let her put her arms around his neck and his own hands went underneath, to her sides. Just above the one Blake had on her hip, in fact. Not in some rude place, or anything—though with his face right in front of hers, looking so handsome and good, she kind of wished they were in some rude place.

Like maybe…yeah, like maybe he could touch her breasts while Blake stroked through her sex. Then Blake could finger her, while he…maybe Jamie could…

“You want me to kiss you, June?”

Yeah, maybe Jamie could do that.

“Would you?” she asked, because really that was all her vocal chords could manage. Politeness. Like he’d asked if she’d appreciate him cleaning up after dinner, instead of the thing she was aching for, just aching.

Blake was almost at her clit, and he was definitely rubbing
something
against her ass, but what she wanted more than anything was Jamie’s mouth on hers. Hell—either of their mouths on hers would have been a total blessing, at that point.

Especially as he was taking the long route.

He kept on leaning forward but just never seemed to get any closer. She could make out every flicker of stubble on his strong jaw—much stronger than Blake’s, really, when up this close—and those lines he had either side of his mouth. Not like age lines—more like evidence of his good, firm bone structure, as though his face had been made by someone aiming for perfectly masculine.

But his mouth was quite small, really. Kind of like a woman’s. Neat and small and not like Blake’s at all, and she thought—
if you just come a little a closer, come a little closer
. Kelsey had said that if things ever went back to normal and she got the chance to kiss another human being again, she didn’t know if she’d be able to. Because of all the red, gory memories of them biting and biting.

Strange really that it seemed so easy, here. More than easy, in fact. She could feel the pleasure rising between her legs and everything inside her was warm and right and if Jamie could just do it, just touch his lips to hers, just yes yes yes now now, God, God, oh how good it was to be alive, how good, how right, yes, now—