The Pulse (14 page)

He looked at her naked body with an unbridled lust in his eyes. “I know. Tonight, though—let me take care of you.”

He strode toward her, dropping his robe on the floor as well. His huge muscular chest filled her field of vision as he stepped in close to her, towering over her, smoothing her damp, almost dry hair.

The smell of flowers filled the air as he caressed her cheek, moving her hair off her shoulder.

It feels so good to be clean again.

She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips, opening her mouth against his until he claimed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth, tasting her and letting her taste him.

Dropping his mouth to her neck, he left a trail of nibbling kisses all the way down to her breast before capturing her nipple in his lips, sucking the tight bud.

“You smell incredible,” he breathed. “I’d forgotten how good a woman can smell, and taste.” His tongue darted out past his lips and he licked her slowly, rolling his tongue around her areola.

Reaching around to her other breast, he gently pinched the tight peak in rhythm to the flicks of his mouth on her other nipple, creating a riot of sensation in her breasts. Emily moaned in pleasure, running her hands over his shaggy, still-damp hair. The stubble on his face scratched the delicate skin on her breasts, but she didn’t care.

As he played with her nipples, she slid her hands down his chest, running her hands over his pecs until she found the tight, flat little pebbles that were his nipples. She pinched one experimentally and he gasped.

“Is that okay?” she asked, pinching again.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s definitely okay.”

Licking down his chest, she swirled her tongue around his flat nipple, sucking it into her mouth the way he did with hers. His skin tasted fresh and clean and totally new to her.

Groaning, he lifted her head and kissed her deeply on the mouth, devouring her. She could easily get lost in a kiss like this. All of the horror of the past year melted away. If only he could kiss her forever, she wouldn’t care the world was upside down.

Wouldn’t care that she’d murdered a man. That she was alone with a convicted murderer, when only days ago she had been terrified of him.

Funny how things could change so dramatically, so quickly.

“You’re beautiful, Emily,” he whispered, pulling back and looking at her as if he had never seen her before. She felt her whole body flush and she laughed, averting her eyes from his intense stare.

“Thank you. And thank you for the bath. I feel like I washed off months of grime.”

“My pleasure.”

She wanted to make him happy—wanted to show him how much she appreciated his protection and help. And he looked amazing, so newly scrubbed. Dropping to her knees, she licked her lips, preparing to take his cock in her mouth.

He hardened in anticipation, but suddenly her pulse raced. Her breath came too fast. The world tilted, she felt dizzy.

(if you suck my cock good)

Oh God—she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t suck Mason’s cock—not after what had happened with Andrews. Somehow it felt wrong.

As if Mason could sense something wasn’t right, he pulled her up to standing, hugging her close to him. The feel of his slow, steady heartbeat soothed her, and her breathing returned to normal.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—this afternoon, before I…” Her voice trailed off and she couldn’t continue.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I understand.”

The room had stopped tilting. Her panic attack subsided completely. “Thank you.”

“We can just rest, if you want,” he said. “Cuddle up.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to just cuddle, Mason. I still… I still need you.” Emily kissed him. “Please… make me feel good.”

Wrapping his arms under her thighs, he lifted her, cradling her body against his chest. “You smell amazing. I have to see what you taste like now.”

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Cleaner, I would imagine.”

“You tasted pretty good to me before too. Just so you know.” He dropped her back on the large bed, running his large hands down her breasts, over her belly, and finally to her thighs.

Her pussy clenched in anticipation, but he took his time, kneading her thigh muscles, lightly touching the little hairs covering her legs. He stood by the side of the bed, his muscular body filling her field of vision.

Drawing his fingers down her calves, he held her foot in both hands, gently massaging the sole of her foot, even rubbing between her toes.

“That feels amazing,” she said.

“You have such cute little toes,” he said, planting a little kiss on the top of her pinky toe. “I’m going to do this now, while you’re all clean and fresh.”

Emily lifted her head. “Do what?”

In answer, Mason sucked her toes into his mouth, the wet heat of his mouth on her toes sending pleasurable shock waves through her body. A little nibble and she moaned, as if a cord connected her toes to her pussy, and he strummed it.

He moved to her other foot, licking up the arch, tickling her so much she started to pull her foot away—but he held it in place, licking again before wrapping his lips around her middle toes and sucking. It felt so strange—so unexpected—but so wonderful. No one had ever sucked her toes before. It was intense.

When he left her toes to kiss the sole of her foot again, she giggled uncontrollably at the tickling feeling, jerking her foot back instinctually.

“No, no,” he scolded, holding her ankle hostage in his iron grip. “Breathe through the tickle to get to the pleasure of me revving up your nerve endings.”

“Breathe through the tickle?” she gasped as his merciless tongue licked the sole of her foot again. “I can’t, you’re killing me.”

But she closed her eyes and tried to do what he said, focusing on the sensations he provided her, and somehow she was on the verge of orgasm, just from him licking and sucking her feet and toes.

Finally, finally, he spread her legs wide, pulling her toward him by her ankles until her legs fell off the side of the bed. He knelt on the floor between them and placed a little kiss on her upper inner thigh.

Right near her femoral artery. The place she’d sliced open on Andrews just hours before.

Stop it
, she thought.
He deserved it. Forget Andrews, forget the femoral artery.

Mason’s tongue flicked out and he licked her labia, causing any thought of Andrews to fly out of her mind. He slid one finger deep into her pussy and she moaned as he used his other hand to spread her nether lips, exposing her clit.

He brought his entire mouth down on her pussy, eating her like she was dessert, sucking her clit and nibbling her slick folds. His finger pulsed inside her, feeling her inner crevices, finally tapping her G-spot over and over until she climaxed and released a stream of come over his hand.

He lapped it up like a hungry animal, nearly growling when she tried to push his head away.

“It’s too much,” she moaned, her hands on his long brown hair.

“I’m not done,” he said calmly, and he dove back down, licking her clit with such ferocity that she came again within seconds, the stimulation making her thrash about on the bed like a drowning woman.

Lifting his head, he grinned at her, his lips wet with her juices. “You’re delicious,” he said. “I want more.”

“Oh God, please—” Emily said. “I need you inside me. Fuck me, please, please.”

He stood, and with her lying on her back on the bed, she wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles above his ass so he was as close as she could get him. His huge, hard cock glistened with pre-come.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked.

No need to answer that. Her smile said it all. He thrust his cock inside her, filling her to the hilt as he pounded her again and again. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts, desperate for even more.

He reached down and rubbed her clit and she nearly screamed from the overstimulation, but then she came again—her third orgasm in minutes.

He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster, until she felt like the world had disappeared and all that mattered was Mason and the pleasure he could bring her.

“Emily,” he groaned, his cock pulsing inside her as he reached his climax. She held on tightly, clenching her inner muscles around him, milking every last drop from him.

When he finished, he pulled out and dropped down on the bed beside her. “That was incredible,” he said.

Emily smiled. “Yeah.”

He looked around the dark room. “It’s nice here—too bad we can’t hole up here for a while.”

Emily sat up. “We can’t stay in New York. I’m a wanted murderer now—and I don’t know how much longer our luck will last. We’ve got to get out of here, tomorrow.”

“I can understand why you never wanted to go back to Grand Central again,” he said softly. “When I went in to get you, I was really… shocked. Shocked by what I saw.”

“That’s nothing. You saw the main terminal. You didn’t even see where they kept the girls—me and Jenna, too. The Tracks.” She shuddered at the memory. “Do you suppose all the camps are like that, out there?”

Mason frowned, thinking. “I hope not. I’d like to think if there’s a good leader, then things would be better. If I were in charge of a camp under martial law, I’d execute anyone who raped or assaulted someone. Then there wouldn’t be anything like the Tracks.”

“But those women wouldn’t say they were raped,” Emily argued. “They’re trying to provide for themselves the only way they can, with the only thing of value they have left—their own bodies.”

“They’re being taken advantage of.”

“Of course they are,” Emily said. “But do you really think it’s better somewhere else?”

“Yes,” he said finally. “And we’ll find a good place. Even if we find some empty land, we can live like pioneers. Eat something more than rats.”

At the mention of food, Emily’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten in a long while.

“We can find the kitchen,” he said, apparently hearing her stomach growling. “This place must have a restaurant or bar in it somewhere. A hotel like this would have had room service, before the Pulse, anyway.”

“Okay,” Emily said, grabbing her robe off the floor. “I’ll follow you.”

Mason pulled his robe on as well and they left the room, walking down the hallway in silence to the stairwell.

“If it’s better out there,” Emily said slowly, her voice echoing in the empty corridor, “it almost makes it that much worse, the way things are at Grand Central.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel bad, leaving all those girls there on the Tracks. What about Jenna? I was so glad to see her, even though I was terrified when they brought me back to the terminal. I miss her. And she’s one of the few who’s doing okay for herself there.”

“When we get out of the city, if we find another camp that seems to be in good order, we could inform the person in charge about the situation at Grand Central and see if they could send in troops to help.” He opened the door to the pitch-black stairwell and she stepped in, her footsteps sounding loud on the hard floor, cold under her bare feet.

“Let’s walk down to the first floor,” she suggested. They took the steps slowly, feeling their way to each landing.

They found a restaurant with impossibly high ceilings. Mason pulled a box of matches out of the pocket on his robe and lit one.

“Where’d you get the matches?” Emily whispered, even though they were alone.

“I grabbed them from my pack in case we need them,” he replied in a normal tone. The light illuminated the huge room for a moment, and Mason grabbed a narrow vase and cloth napkin off a table. The match went out and the room plunged into darkness once more.

Emily heard the sound of another match being struck, and then Mason held a torch of sorts—he had stuffed the napkin into the vase and lit the end on fire.

“Nice,” she said, smiling at his ingenuity.

“Let’s find us something to eat.” He led the way, the flames throwing eerie shadows along the walls. She felt the gun in her robe pocket hitting her thigh with each step, and it gave her comfort.

Just knowing she had it, just in case.

The kitchen was in the back. Mason ignored the large freezer, since anything in there would have spoiled long ago. The cupboards, like in the hospital, were bare. People had already scavenged anything worth eating.

“I found something,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Do I even want to know?”

“It’s a torn bag of rice.” He knelt down, running his hands through the grains. “With extra protein included.”

What?

“Maggots,” he said, as if she had spoken aloud. “If we boil them they’ll taste fine with the rice, and it really will be good protein.”

Emily sighed. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, if that’s okay by you.”

Mason laughed and began scooping up the rice.

They ate in
the restaurant, sitting on a long curvy padded bench. Emily had found some nice bowls, and silverware even.

Her rice tasted delicious, especially since she’d been so hungry. She pretended the boiled maggots were bits of tofu, and ate every last one.

“It’s like we’re on a date,” she joked.

“If it weren’t for the Pulse, you never would have looked twice at me,” Mason said.

“Well, you were in prison.”

“Even if I weren’t in prison. No way a girl like you would want anything to do with a guy like me. But now everything’s different, huh?”

“Well,” she said, “different skills are useful now. A man who was rich and powerful before the Pulse isn’t going to be as well off as someone who knows how to shoot, how to hunt, how to fight. Someone who’s used to staying in hotels like this one isn’t going to do as well as someone who knows how to camp out.”

“That’s true, but it’s not what I’m saying.” Mason seemed upset almost.

“What does it matter?”

“I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t.”

“You think I’m using you—for protection, is that it?” Emily chewed her rice slowly, giving herself time to think. Maybe it was true, that she was using him. But she also desired him like she’d never desired anyone before. That had to count for something, right?