Flesh 02 Skin (16 page)

Her breath hit his ear in warm little puffs and her arms wrapped tighter around him. Cut off his airflow a little, but who cared. He lifted her high enough to guide the head of his cock to her and she took him. Sank down on him slowly, engulfing him in the tight clasp of her body.

A long, breathy moan left her and his legs shook.

Yes. Fuck yes.

He withdrew and thrust back into her. And again. And then they were off, with the hard and fast drive of his body into hers and the sound of flesh slapping. He couldn’t seem to slow, to go easy, when he knew he should. Knew without a doubt he should, but his hands were filled with her gorgeous rear and her body trembled against him. He fucked her like a man possessed and she took it. Spurred him on by panting and moaning in his ear. Sweat slicked their skin and the scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

Nothing had ever felt this right. This necessary.

Fast, hard and perfect, with the cupboard door knocking out a protest every time he thrust into her and the chain jangling.

Her heels dug into his ass and her fingernails sunk into his skin. She said his name like it was a curse. He loved it. Her head lolled back against the cupboard door. She was close. She was whimpering and he couldn’t hold out much longer the way his balls were climbing up into his body. He shifted the angle slightly. Enough to ensure he was raking over her clit on each withdrawal. A strangled noise filled his ear and her pussy clamped down on him.
There we go.
No chance of holding out. No control, but then there never had been.

Not with her. Not possible.

He came and came. Fingers clutching at her, half scared he’d drop her or something. He growled through gritted teeth and clung onto her like she was the only thing left.

Like she was everything.

Roslyn lay wide awake, staring into space and watching the flickering light of the candles on the wall.

She’d had sex with Nick.

Rough, raw, animal sex.

It had shaken her tiny world apart, blown it to smithereens.

Thank God she was still on birth control. Neither of them had stopped to think of donning a condom. She was never so careless. Never. But then, she’d never had sex like that. Mind-blowing sex. Fucking.

No excuse.

She’d come so hard. Her body still hummed, satiated and pumped full of happy hormones. They weren’t doing their job, though, not even a little. She was miserable. Her chest felt hot and hard, her eyes itchy, ready to explode into tears at a moment’s notice.

How could she?

She’d had sex with Nick and there was no excuse. There were no gray areas. You didn’t fuck the man who kept you captive. What kind of woman did that? Fell for her abductor. No, damn it, it was so wrong she couldn’t comprehend it. It filled her with disgust and covered her in self-loathing.

Sure as hell, it couldn’t happen again.

He was asleep against her back with an arm thrown over her waist. For a long time he’d toyed with her fingers, stroked her arm. Neither of them had said a word. Complete silence, apart from the occasional pop and sizzle of the wood in the pot-belly stove. Even the rain had stopped a while back.

It was mid-afternoon. Hard to tell exactly with the cabin all closed up. The scent of him seemed to be reaching out to her, trying to tantalize or comfort or something. The want to close her eyes and breathe him in deep horrified her. She hated herself for how she wanted him. For giving in to him. He’d never let her go now. She’d never be free to make her own choices ever again and it was all her own weak-willed fault. Somehow, he’d disarmed her, which meant her armor was made of flimsy stuff indeed.

She shifted and the chain clinked, reminding her of its presence. He’d said the key was in his back pocket. His jeans were on the kitchen floor. He’d stripped off fully after sex and undressed her as much as possible without taking off the chain. If only he’d taken it off her. Maybe then she’d have felt differently.

She sucked in a deep breath and held it as her mind reeled. The key. She could escape. She had to. To stay locked up like this was out of the question. She had to get out.

And if he woke she’d say she was going to the toilet or something.

Yeah. Great. All set. Bloody hell.

She could do this. First she eased a little way across the mattress and rolled gradually onto her back. No rush. Nice and easy. Now she could see him. Eyes closed, and his breathing deep and even. Some strange frisson went through her at the sight of him: fine, firm lips and straight nose, the hollows in his cheeks. It hurt to look at him. This situation wasn’t tenable. Nobody could live like this.

He looked different fast asleep. Unguarded. She’d never seen him like this before. Her anger evaporated. It had fortified her for so long that its absence left a gaping hole. He looked so alone in the bed without her. The sight of him hurt her heart. People always talked about sex making them feel closer to someone. In all honesty, she’d never felt that before today. The connection had never seemed especially profound, not until Nick. How fucking unfair.

But she couldn’t stay.

Roslyn shut her eyes and gathered her reserves. Slowly she extricated herself. Every rustle of the sheets and clank of the chain seemed magnified tenfold. He didn’t stir. First one foot touched the ground, then the second. Her body slid out from beneath his hand and she sat up, then stood.

Her knickers and jeans were caught on the chain. She pulled them back over her foot and up her leg. Inserted her other leg and drew them over her hips. Between her thighs was wet and swollen. Sore from what they’d done and how hard they’d done it. It had to have been eight or nine months since anyone had touched her there, and he wasn’t small. There’d been few preliminaries—not that she’d wanted any. She’d been insane with need for him. She’d been insane, full stop.

Now wasn’t the time to think about it.

She crept toward the kitchen. If he woke she was getting a bottle of water, nothing more. The chain sounded so damn loud. Her fingers curled into fists. The metal links clattered and crashed but he slept on. It would be okay. She’d steal the Golden Goose and get gone.

His jeans lay forgotten on the floor. She slipped her hand into one of the back pockets. Nothing. Had he been lying? But the other pocket … yes, success. Cool metal met her fingers. Excitement beat through her. This was it.

Please don’t wake up.

The key slid into the lock and it
snicked
open. She slid the links of chain free and set them down quietly. Almost didn’t recognize her ankle without its restraint. There were a couple of red marks on her skin and a small gray bruise above her heel.

Roslyn scrambled into her T-shirt then rose slowly to her feet. Her bra was AWOL and she would have to go barefoot. She didn’t dare open the cupboard to search for shoes. But she tucked his Swiss Army Knife into her pocket, just in case.

Fast asleep, Nick looked almost sweet and innocent. Candlelight softened his features. The blankets were bunched up at his waist, leaving his top half exposed. Such a beautiful body; it was awe-inspiring. And she didn’t know if she loved him or hated him, but she knew she had to go. The ache inside her expanded and pushed at her ribs. So much pressure that she might implode. This whole situation was so wrong it warped her little mind.

Out the door she slipped. Out onto the landing and down the wooden walkway. She laid down the plank to bridge the gap and cautiously darted across. There was a noise behind her. Maybe the wind in the trees. Maybe Nick rising and looking for her.

She ran.

Gravel cut into her feet. Everything was wet from the rain, the scent of damp earth strong. She threw open the pickup’s door. No keys. Where were the fucking keys? Not above the sun visor. She climbed in and reached for the glovebox. Maps and rubbish spilled out onto the floor, but no keys.

She’d run out of time. Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, deafeningly loud.

The sun was lower than she’d anticipated. The cabin door remained closed … but for how long?

Roslyn jumped out of the pickup and headed for the highway on foot. There’d be something. A car she could start or another house she could hide in for the night. She’d return to the school tomorrow and make them see sense, work something out.

Her thin T-shirt was useless against the ice-cold wind blowing through her. She jogged past the other cabins. Stones kept cutting into her feet, but she’d manage. There’d be no stopping now. Yes, she’d head back to the school. Neil wasn’t selling her twice. She’d beat the wanker with a wine bottle if she had to. Bash some sense into him. Her days of playing victim were over.

The muscles in her legs burned. Nick would follow, but she’d deal with that later. She wasn’t going back to the chain without a fight.

It was better when she hit the highway. The asphalt was kinder to the soles of her feet. There wasn’t anything visible in either direction except trees. Lots and lots of trees with the evening’s shadows growing beneath. Town was to the left.

Back up the driveway there were no signs of life. He wasn’t coming. Probably wasn’t even awake yet, because when he woke—shit. He’d be furious.

Except a part of her strongly disagreed. Nick wouldn’t be stomping and yelling because he’d be too scared for her. He’d be beside himself. No matter the time of day, he’d follow her. She knew it. He would come after her to find her and protect her. No matter the danger to himself he would follow her out into the night.

A chill spilled through her.

Nick.

She stood by the roadside, frozen in place. Terrified at what might happen next. Disaster waited around every corner and one wrong step could cost lives. Her life, and maybe Nick’s life too.

What if she did go back to the school? Because if she was brutally honest she had to admit that she’d be sitting there waiting for him. Waiting for them to sort this out and come to some sort of agreement where she wouldn’t be torn in two.

Shit.

She needed to talk to him. They needed to sit down and work this out. What she was doing standing by the roadside as dusk closed in? She didn’t even know anymore. Running away wasn’t the answer. As her father had said more than once, cowards and pussies left things unresolved. Go Dad. Double shit. She had to talk to Nick.

“Fuck it.”

Roslyn about-faced and headed back up the drive, swearing constantly. Badmouthing him and herself and the whole fucked up world. Not to forget this bitch of a situation. Of all the times to have unresolved feelings for a guy. How fucking old was she? Fifteen? God the drama, it sucked. The first star winked into existence on the horizon. It peeked out from behind the limbs of swaying gum trees, taunting her. The storm clouds were moving north. Her lips felt chapped from the cold, or maybe that had more to do with beard rash. Her poor pained feet were frozen.

The first moan came from a green tin shed, tucked back from the driveway. A second answered it from a nearby cabin. The door stood open. Something was inside there—an infected.

What the fuck had she done?

She pushed herself faster and something dug into her foot. A piercing pain shot up her leg. Hopping in place, she tried to keep her balance. A shard of rock had punctured the sole of her foot. Blood dripped from between her toes. With a tug and a wince she pulled it out. Damn, it hurt.

The next moan sounded closer. It came from a straggle of bushes beside the drive. The driveway hadn’t seemed this far when she’d been running away. Like an optical illusion, the distance seemed to have lengthened and warped. She ignored the pain in her foot and pressed onward. Movement from the darkened doorway of the first cabin caught her eye. A monster shuffled out into the early night. Its white sundress had been stained in patches. Dirty, crusty scratches covered its arms and legs. Sickly, bloodshot eyes took up half its face above a gaping mouth.

Roslyn’s stomach felt weighted, heavy with dread.

Another groaned behind her. A thick and heavy man. Or it once had been. Its bald head shone in the low light and its bloody mouth hung open, blackened tongue wiggling.

Roslyn sprinted, toes slick with blood and sore muscles straining. Climbing trees and aggressively fucking within a twenty-four hour period wasn’t good for her. Not when she wasn’t used to it.

Another infected stepped in front of her. It stumbled out from beside a parked car, a fancy new sedan. They were cutting her off. Closing in on her.

The knife—she still had the Swiss Army knife in her back pocket. Her hands trembled, slipping over the metal. It slid from her hands, useless anyway. Who was she kidding? She needed something that packed a punch. There weren’t a hell of a lot of choices.

In the garden bed to her right a steel picket was tied to the remains of a long-dead plant. Perfect.

She limped over and grabbed the rusted metal with damp hands, wrestling with it. The dirt had softened from the rain; it had to give. The stupid thing was her only chance. She could hear them coming, the constant moaning and wheezy, overexcited breathing. Her arms strained, tugging at the rusted length of metal. Shoulders ached from the stupid fucking tree climbing. But there wasn’t any giving up. They weren’t getting her. She threw her weight against it, once, twice, and it gave, wobbling in its widened hole.

Yes.

She pulled it free and swung wild, spinning around and gunning for whatever was nearest. And screaming at the top of her lungs while she did it. “NICK!”

Thunk
.

The long piece of metal knocked the bitch in the white dress down. Caught it at head height and sent it reeling. The infected stumbled back and lost its balance, landing on its back. Its ear seemed to be hanging off and there was sort of gunk on the end of Roslyn’s weapon. Flesh and skin and whatever.

“Nick!”

Next came the big fat guy with the combover gone wrong. It snarled and spit dangled off its chin. This one probably wouldn’t fall as easily as the white-dress bitch. And that one was stirring, slowly trying to climb back up onto its feet. Its head remained at a funny angle, like it was nursed by her shoulder. Like her neck had been snapped. Why wasn’t it dead if it was that badly damaged?