Alive (The Crave) (10 page)

“Do you ever think about it?” she asked after several minutes had passed. He had finished three arrows, considerably slower than his normal pace.
She’s throwing you off.

“About it? the Crave?”

“No. About us.”

He swallowed his surprise, nearly choking on it.

“I thought it didn’t count,” he said, referencing her earlier point, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“It didn’t. Forget I brought it up.” She stared down at her hands clasped in her lap. He winced at the raw pain he saw on her face.

Gage dropped his knife and stood. He moved around the candle and sat next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting next to you.”

“Obviously, but why?” She scooted away from him.

He reached out and rested his hand on her slightly bent knee. She froze her movement. “Why are you running from me? You didn’t run from me today in the water.”

“Umm, hello. I didn’t have a choice.”

He recognized the sharp jab in her voice. The one she used with him when he’d talked her into a corner. He didn’t notice it before, but she was hateful when he was getting under her skin. She liked it, but she didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want him to know. It was the only way to explain the vulnerability he’d seen in her eyes just moments before. “Sure you did.” Her skin was warm under his fingertips. He moved his hand up and down in small strokes reveling at the smooth skin. “Everyone has a choice.”

“To hang on to you or drown. Some choice.” The sarcasm in her words had less of an edge and came out in more of a breathless gasp. Gage’s body responded, his cock pressing hard inside his pants.

“Oh, come on…admit that you liked hanging on to me.”

“Really? No thanks.” Her words cut like a knife as she tried to jerk her leg away. He let her and dropped his hand to the floor.

“To answer your question, I have thought about you.” He stared at the side of her thin face taking in her delicate features. Features that were now deceiving based on the badass things he’d seen her do in the last twenty-four hours.

She sucked in a breath, but didn’t look at him.

“Remember the day you came to school and your face was bruised?” Of all the regrets he had when it came Eve, this one wasn’t the top of the list, nor was it the bottom, but it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah…” She still didn’t look at him, but stared straight ahead at the candlelight flickering off the mounted animals.

“You told me you were clumsy and that you tripped and fell on the way outside to the bus.” He would never forget the large purple bruise on her pale face.

“How do you even remember that?” She still didn’t look at him.

“How could I not?” He paused, but she didn’t say anything. “You told me you were clumsy, but I knew the truth. I knew someone had hurt you.” He put his hand on her bare shoulder. Eve flinched.

“What difference does it make?” She jerked away from him, shooting him a death glare.

“I should have done something. But I didn’t. I took it at face value and let it go. I’m sorry. And for that time in the cafeteria when Sally…”

“Just don’t, Gage. Don’t bring that shit up. It doesn’t matter. It’s over and done.”

That had been when things had changed even more for Gage, sitting next to Eve, the weird girl, for the last month had been pleasant, but when she was tripped in the cafeteria, something had changed inside him, though he had fought it with a vengeance. And then seeing her with her face all banged up, moved something in his heart. He didn’t like seeing her hurt and not just in an sympathetic way. He wanted to protect her.

Eve was looking at him now. Her lips parted in the most luscious way. Her choppy bangs had fallen into her eyes and he had the urge to push them away, but didn’t. Not wanting to see her flinch away from him again. She did it instead, brushing back the straight strands to reveal her sea-green eyes.

“I’m sorry too.” The words were so quiet they came out in a whisper.

“For what?” He leaned closer, telling himself it was because he wanted to be able to hear her better, rather than the truth—that he just wanted to be closer to her.

Her gaze focused on his lips. “About your cousin and acting like an ass earlier.”

He couldn’t deny that seeing Bill again had done something to him. He hadn’t expected him to be alive—as a gurgh or as human—but he realized after he sank the dagger into the man’s head, that he had hoped for something like that.

A part of him cringed at the way he reacted, but he didn’t regret it. The feel of her hot body beneath his was like a gift from God in those few moments when he’d had her pressed against the wall. His cock throbbed at the thought. She was still staring at him. He was still leaning forward. “I want to kiss you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider them.

Her gaze fastened on his lips. She dipped her chin down in silent agreement. That was all he needed. He closed the distance between them, sliding across the wood floor soundlessly and melding his lips to hers.

She didn’t waste any time either. Her hands went to his white sleeveless tank top and fisted the thin material as she swung her leg over his lap and climbed on top of him. It was almost as if she had been waiting for him to ask, with this plan in her head all along.

Her tongue twined with his in bold strokes, like she was ravenous for him. He grunted at the hot heat of her core that hovered over his fabric-covered crotch.
Not for long.
The motherfucker strained hard, pulsing, wanting Eve skin on skin. At this rate, he was liable to burst the seam of the worn material. He groaned into her mouth when she pressed down on him.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and thrust him backward, slamming his back into the side of the leather couch so hard that it scooted across the floor a couple of inches.
Where the hell is this coming from?
He’d seen Eve’s newfound aggression with her words and toward the jenks, but not sexually. She’d kissed him back, but not like this. It made him want her that much more.

He nipped at her plump bottom lip savoring the satisfying yelp she made into his mouth. She ran her hands up and down the back of his neck. He flexed his and slid them down her perfectly shaped physique, breasts big enough to fill his hands—even though they were covered by her bra—a thin waist, her plump ass. The two globes were round and thick beneath his hands. The only thing that would make it better was if her shorts weren’t there.

He moved to snatch them off—only he never made it. She had started to move against him. The very heart of her core rubbed sinfully against his dick. In that moment he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. The sensation of her in his arms was like nothing he’d experienced in years. He’d been long without a woman, but he was certain there was more to this. He couldn’t even recall their first experience together to be anything close to this mind-blowing sexual connection between them now.

When he was about to pull away and speak words of protest about their clothes, she threw her head back and made a low moaning sound. A sound that reverberated through his body and nearly had him coming in his combat pants. Her body tensed and he could tell she was already close to orgasming.

“Let’s—”

“—shhh.” She leaned back into him shushing him with her hot lips against his ear. It sent a prickle of lascivious heat across his body. He moved a hand in between them with every intention of unbuttoning her shorts. He needed her slick folds against him, even if it was only his fingers. He had to.
Now.

She stopped his movement with one of her hands, dropping it from where it gripped his shoulder. She grabbed his extremity and brought it between their bodies fastening her lips over his pointer finger. She continued to move her hips against him, lazily rubbing the head of his cock against the very place he wished to enter. He watched her with utter fascination as she suckled the full length of his digit into her mouth. He bucked his hips against her core involuntarily as he imagined what else he wanted to put in her mouth.

Pleasure mounted in his body. With utter shock he realized that she wasn’t the only one about cream pants, he was only a few thrusts away from sweet oblivion. Never had someone brought him to the verge of coming without actually touching his bare cock. Come to think of it, he had never been this close to an orgasm, this quickly in his whole entire life. He had always been one of those guys who took awhile to get where he wanted to go.

He shoved his hips up, meeting her thrust with his own. It didn’t deter her at all, in fact it had her riding him harder, her lazy motion gone and turned into a faster stabbing rhythm. She pressed down so hard on him that he could feel the wet heat of her saturating both of their clothes.
Or is that my imagination?
He didn’t know, nor did he care.

She sucked his finger hard into her mouth, nearly sending him over the edge. He held it back.
I will not come in my pants. I refuse.
Her movements became jerky and he looked into her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips fastened around his finger, and her brows furrowed. Gage knew she was close.

“Look at me.” Eve’s eyes flew open at his demand. She swirled her tongue around his finger. “I want to see you when you come.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been yelling all day.

Two thrusts later her body tensed over his, his finger slipped from between her parted lips as a guttural moan erupted from her chest. Eve’s eyes didn’t leave his, even as her body shuddered with utter abandon.
Oh my God. I’m
going to come in my pants.
Her shuddering took him over the edge and he fought the urge to shout out as hot semen spurted from the head of his cock, bathing his underwear. His hands clamped down on her hips as he rode the wave of carnal gratification. It seemed to last forever, his body shook as he held her tight, almost as if he was afraid she would float away.

When his eyes refocused she was looking down at him a languid smile on her face.

She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose with her soft lips and Gage knew he would never be the same.

Chapter Eleven

At the same time Eve pressed her lips against Gage’s nose, some thirty miles away, eighteen-year-old Olive Wicker was sleeping on an old Indian-style blanket in the middle of an open field when a sharp pain jerked her from her light sleep.

If she lived in a different world, she would have screamed, fought the large body on top of her, been terrified, and even begged for him to stop. Not in this new world. She didn’t feel alarmed at all at the thickness moving roughly between her legs, even though she hadn’t been properly prepared to take the thick cock inside of her body.

She opened her eyes slowly to see the dark skin of Reno’s muscular neck and chest as he moved on top of her. She parted her legs wider to properly take him into her body, rocking her hips, inviting him further, even though it hurt. He leaned down, the wiry hair of his dark beard rubbed against her cheek and neck. He bit down on her ear. Her body immediately responded sending a tingling down her spine and a flood of wetness where he filled her.

The ear was her weak spot and he knew it better than anyone. He grunted, no doubt feeling how slick she had grown. Three thrusts later he let out a guttural sound, mashing his weight down on her. His cock spasmed, the heat of his cum bathing her from the inside.

He lay on top of her for several moments that seemed to drag on forever, his heavy body making it hard for her to breathe. When he finally sat up, jerking his limp dick out of her, she sucked in a deep gasp of air that smelled like grass and old bleach. She used to hate the smell, but she was used to it now. She glanced above her head at the desiccated carcass of the jenk laying a few feet away from her.

Olive wasn’t able to sleep the first couple of nights after she met Reno, not with the dead corpses surrounding where they camped. Now she took comfort in them and the diversion they created for other jenks. She didn’t think she could sleep without one near her now.

She stretched her arms and sat up. The hot rush of air against the bare skin of her chest alerted her that Reno had lifted up her shirt before she’d woken up. She shimmied her body until the old, blue, Texas Rangers t-shirt slid back into place. It was her favorite shirt. The only colorful one her mom and dad had ever let her wear. The red and white T emblem had long since rubbed off and there were holes all in the bottom along the seam, but she didn’t care. Olive would wear it until there was nothing left, but a small square and even then she would find something to do with it.

Her sensitive nipples rubbed against the fabric alerting her of the orgasm she didn’t get to have, not that she’d ever had one at the hands of a man. She immediately wished for her long lost bra. It had grown too small over the years and Eve had looted a bigger one that fit better not too long before they got separated, but Reno wouldn’t allow it. His women did not wear bras or underwear. He wanted their breasts free and their cunts covered by only simple shorts or skirts if he got in the mood.

She reached down and pulled up her light denim shorts that had been pushed to her ankles and jerked them up her long legs. She didn’t know how tall she was, but figured she was pushing close five foot nine or ten. She was nearly as tall as Reno himself.

“Rose, get the fuck up and bring some water from the pack,” Reno’s deep voice thundered around her.

Olive looked over at the other two women lying not five feet away from her. She could see the dim outline of their bodies in the darkness. Rose had already sat up. Olive didn’t need light to know the woman stared at her with her dark brown eyes. Eyes that were almost as vacant as a jenk’s, even though she wasn’t one. She was in her late twenties from what Olive could tell, her Spanish heritage showed in her dark skin and black hair. Rose rubbed her hand absently over her distended belly. With her thin frame, the woman looked like she was about to pop and give birth any minute.

Laney rolled over as if on cue and rubbed her pale face with one of her hands. She was a few years older than Olive, a pretty girl with dirty blond hair. If they lived in a different time, Olive believed that her and Laney would have been friends. As it was, they weren’t, but she was the closest person she had to talk to since Rose never said a thing to anyone—besides Reno, that is. Oh yes, the woman said a lot of things to Reno. And Olive hated her for it.