“All right, I’m game.”
Fifteen minutes later Levi and I set out on our wild turkey hunt. Took less than half an hour to track down one of the huge black gobblers with a bright red wattle. Levi carried the shotgun and made the kill. He skinned the bird and carved out the breast and thigh meat. Back at grandpa’s place, he cooked the meat over the outdoor grill. Added some canned vegetables and fruit from the basement stockpile, and we had the makings of a good dinner.
We gathered around the cinder block firepit in the backyard, our enamel camping plates piled high. The turkey was a little tough—Levi said we should have aged it a couple of days—but the fresh meat tasted damned good. Hector wolfed down every tidbit we threw his way.
Since it was late in the day, we decided to spend the night at Grandpa Kurt’s, bunking down in the barn to avoid cougars and other predators. Kyle and Sahdev studied Uncle Mel’s map and plotted our trip to Valhalla. We’d retrace our route through Bend and Madras, then veer east toward Antelope and Fossil, before heading off on the narrow unpaved roads that wound their way to the isolated ranch.
We assigned watch—in case the assholes who trashed the place came back—and spread out our sleeping bags. Sahdev volunteered for first watch. Mac and I found a more or less private spot in a corner of the barn, unzipped our sleeping bags, and piled them together to make a double.
When I turned off the lantern and crawled into the bag, Mac rolled on her side to face me. “Can you believe it? After weeks of the worst luck, things finally break our way. Levi and Hannah want to stay with us. By tomorrow night, we should be safe at Valhalla.” In the dim light from Kyle’s lantern, I saw her smile falter. “That is, unless something else goes wrong.”
“Here on out, we’re gonna make our own luck. We’re gonna be smart and careful and do whatever it takes to survive.”
Mac nodded, wriggling under my arm, so her head rested on my shoulder and her hand lay flat against my stomach.
“Hannah doesn’t think that she needs to learn how to shoot,” I said, remembering my conversation with Levi. “You think you could talk to her about that? Talk some sense into her?”
“I can do that.” Mac’s fingertips began to trace circles on my skin.
Kyle switched off his lantern and a blanket of darkness fell over the barn’s interior. Mac’s breath caught, and she stilled. “I’m here, Mac. You’re safe,” I whispered.
Tension eased its grip on her body. Once again, her hand moved, gliding lower, until her fingers flattened against my cock, which twitched and hardened beneath her touch. Her lips grazed my ear. “I can also do this.”
Mac slid down my body, pressing open-mouthed kisses against my chest and abdomen. Kneeling between my legs, she gently cupped my balls. When her tongue tickled that smooth, sensitive spot on the underside, my hips bowed. She dragged her tongue up the length of my cock, and I bit back a groan. Mac was shy and wouldn’t want our friends to know she was blowing me not thirty feet from where they lay.
I tangled my fingers in her hair and tugged, anchoring her head above my straining cock. I sucked in a deep breath and shoved my dick between her pliant lips. My cock slid into the warm, wet cavern. Nice. I stifled another moan. My hips rose and fell as I silently fucked her mouth.
The muffled squelching sound couldn’t be helped. Apparently Mac didn’t notice, and I was too far gone to care. Few seconds before I came, I jerked her head back, just enough that she wouldn’t choke when I flooded her mouth with cum. She swallowed, then rested her cheek on my thigh, gasping.
I gripped her shoulders and hauled her up my body.
“My turn,” I breathed into her ear.
She shook her head back and forth, frantically rejecting the declaration.
“I can’t,” she hissed in my ear.
“Why not?”
“I can’t stay quiet when you go down on me.”
Still shy. I sensed everybody else in the barn purposefully ignoring us and the noises we were making, but telling Mac that wouldn’t help one bit.
“All right. I won’t go down on you.”
Rolling onto my side, a physical barrier between Mac and our friends, I slid a hand down to her pussy.
“Ripper.” She breathed a protest.
“Shhh,” I soothed. “Remember how I marked you that night at the bed and breakfast?”
Her head bobbed when she nodded. “Yes.”
“Want you to sink your teeth into me here, on my shoulder. Bite down as hard as you need to, to muffle the sound when you come. I wanna wear your mark, the way you wore mine.”
“Okay.” After a moment, her lips, warm and soft, pressed against the base of my neck. After another moment, her teeth nipped my skin. I dipped a finger into her dripping slit and dragged the wetness over her clit.
Mac gasped and her teeth clamped down harder. I smiled fiercely into the darkness, triumph zinging through my veins. Woman was gonna mark me. I’d make sure of that. Wear the bruise as a badge of honor, a point of pride, proof of how under my hands she devolved from uptight nice girl into an unabashed wanton.
Wanton. A funny old word. My grandma used to drag me to church when I was a kid. I remember the priest railing against “loose” women, calling them shameless wantons. Even back then—before I’d ever laid hands on a girl—I knew that he was full of shit. Nothing wrong with a woman who loved sex. A wanton woman was a most excellent thing.
Mac’s breath hitched, and she arched her hips as I pushed her closer and closer to orgasm. She whimpered and bit down hard on my shoulder, her back bowing when she came. With a gasp, she unclenched her jaw, then gently fingered the spot on my neck.
“Good girl,” I murmured, assuring her that it was more than all right. “You gave me exactly what I wanted.”
I flopped onto my back and pulled her close. She snuggled against me. Soon, her deep, regular breathing told me she was asleep.
Took me awhile to join her, my thoughts full of the day to come. Tomorrow we’d reach Valhalla and begin a new chapter of our lives. Safety in an isolated refuge, a sanctuary from a world coming apart at the seams.
So why did my back brain urge caution, warn me not to let down my guard?
TWENTY-FOUR
Kenzie
My butt was killing me.
When we stopped to stretch our legs, I grunted, climbing off the bike, then hobbled across the gravel, my knees splayed outward like a bow-legged chicken.
“Maybe you should ride in the jeep,” Sahdev suggested, frowning at my awkward gait.
I shot him a smile, then removed my helmet and sighed with pleasure when fresh air touched my overheated head. Resting a hand against the jeep’s door, one at a time I shook my legs in an attempt to banish the stiffness. I managed a deep knee bend, wobbled upright, then bent over, pressing my hands flat on the gravel. I groaned. Stretching my sore muscles felt good.
When I straightened, sensation was returning to my abused body, but the prolonged vibrations caused by riding on the back of a bike over very bumpy roads made my skin itch. I scratched in vain over my butt and thighs, but my jeans got in the way of any real satisfaction.
Ripper shoved his goggles out of the way and cocked a brow. “You all right, Mac?”