The Undead Age Series (Book 2): Damage In An Undead Age

by Geever, A. M.

  She realized she was dragging her hand and smudging the graphite. Goddammit, she thought, checking the pencil point. It was no longer sharp. She needed a good pencil sharpener. Pencil tips blunted too quickly but carrying ink for a fountain pen was impractical. The ink in ballpoint pens had dried up years ago, and the fine point uni-ball pens she had loved were a distant memory. Pencils were the best option for traveling, but the smudging drove her crazy.

  Just as she was finishing her entry, the door to the office they had set themselves up in opened. She set the journal aside, next to the small camping lantern. Its soft light was just enough to read and write by, and it was perfect for what she had in mind.

  “I thought you’d be asleep by now,” he said.

  “And miss a chance to smell clean you? No way.”

  His smile was everything she had hoped for. She got up from their bedrolls and met him halfway.

  “I was thinking along the same lines,” he murmured.

  Miranda arched an eyebrow, a seductive smirk raising the corner of her mouth. “Took you long enough to get here.”

  She leaned in, desire crackling between them as their lips met. The anticipation that had been building inside her ricocheted through her body. Mario pulled her close, his lips on her neck, scorching it with caresses and nips. She unbuckled his belt and worked on the button and fly. He made quick work of unbuttoning her shirt. She gasped when his lips moved to the swell of her breast. Then he pulled away abruptly and raised his eyes to hers.

  He pushed her shirt off her shoulders and slid his hands down her arms. They settled on her waist while he held her at arm’s length. He traced a finger along the edge of the black lace bra. Slowly, down one breast to the dip in the center, then up along the other.

  “Where did you get this?”

  She felt aflame as his fingers traced her skin along the edges of the lacy confection of satin and lace. His touch, and the way he looked at her, filled her with heat. She wanted him to keep kissing her, keep touching her everywhere, but his reaction was worth the interruption.

  “There was an entire dresser of lingerie at that house.”

  Mario’s expression changed from wonder to expectation.

  “You mean there’s more?”

  She nodded, a crafty smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

  He ripped his shirt over his head and pulled her to him. She thrilled at his shudder when her hands slid over the sculpted muscles of his chest and stomach. He gasped as she slid them inside the waistband of his loosened pants. His heat ensconced her hand as she wrapped it around his stiff cock. He groaned into her mouth as he claimed it again, his tongue seeking and lips urgent. Miranda almost cried out when his mouth latched on to a nipple, a lightning bolt of electric pleasure racing from his nipping teeth directly to her tingling sex. Her head fell back, breath hoarse in her throat.

  He released one nipple to push her bra aside and suckle the other, sending more heat rushing through her body. She worked her hand along the shaft of his cock, the smooth elastic surface sliding over the hardness within. He groaned when her other hand slipped down and cupped his tight balls. When she stroked her fingers along their underside, a violent shudder ran through his body. He released her nipple and gasped.

  “Miri, stop or I’ll come.”

  She stopped. After a moment she withdrew the hand that cradled his balls but left her other hand in place around him, not moving but not letting go. They looked at one another, breathless and flushed, the lust on his face stoking the fire inside her even higher.

  Miranda enjoyed holding him in her hand, knowing that she could listen to him and drag it out. Or not.

  “Hmmm… What’s a girl to do?” She moved her hand an inch up his hard cock. He groaned, and she smiled. God, she could do this all day long. “Worked up a little, baby?”

  She let go of him and stepped back. After a few moments he took a step toward her, but she touched a finger on his chest and pushed back.

  “Stay there.”

  A slow smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She took several steps back and undid her pants. Slowly, she slid them over her hips, revealing the microscopic lace G-string. She would pay for it later, but when he saw her smooth skin around and beneath the G-string’s lace, she knew she would shave it again in a heartbeat.

  “Holy shit,” he said. When the lacy band of the thigh-high stockings appeared, he laughed. “My God, woman. You. Are. Gorgeous.”

  Miranda licked her lower lip, his reaction so much better than she had imagined. She wanted to jump him right now, shove him down on the floor, feel his hardness inside her, but this was a moment to savor. She reached behind her back with both hands and unhooked the bra, letting it fall to the floor. His face looked like a kid’s at Christmas, a kid who had just unwrapped the best present ever. She stepped out of her pants and kicked them away.

  “Pants,” she said. “Off.”

  He complied immediately, removing his socks and boots, too. She closed the distance between them, never taking her eyes from his, and dropped to her knees in front of him.

  Mario’s breath hissed in when she ran her tongue along the underside of his cock. She laughed softly when she reached the extra sensitive bunching of skin just below the tip, and his cock sprang up of its own volition. Then, slowly, she took his hard length in her mouth, sliding her wetted lips forward millimeter by millimeter.

  He started to shake. He lasted about two more seconds before grabbing the back of her head and setting a more robust pace. She matched it, slicking his cock as she sucked forward and back. When his breath started to rasp unevenly, she took a deep breath through her nose, relaxed, and swallowed him so deep that her lips touched his body. His cock filled her throat. When she swallowed again, her throat’s deep embrace encircling him, his half-strangled cry was accompanied by his pulsing release. He stood shuddering, holding her head in his hands as his hips flexed forward.

  Then he let go and staggered back. Miranda stood up, thoroughly pleased with herself. Mario looked at her, eyes glazed.

  “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  “But such a nice way to go,” she purred.

  Mario took her hand and pulled her over to their bedrolls. “Let me see what I can do with you.”

  Miranda lay on her back. Mario began at her toes, trailing his hands up her silky stockinged legs. When he reached the lace bands halfway up her thighs, he pushed her legs apart. The feather-light kisses on the inside of her thighs made her breath catch in her throat. He kissed higher and higher and then completely skipped where a natural progression should have taken him.

  Trailing kisses and swirls of his tongue started again on the tiny swell below her belly button. He moved up her writhing body at a snail’s pace. She tangled her fingers in his hair, both wanting him to hurry and take his time. A soft cry escaped her when he took a pebble-hard nipple in his mouth. He licked and nipped, going back and forth from one breast to the other, teasing with his tongue and teeth.

  The rushes of pleasure electrified her clit, like there was a high-voltage wire connecting them. He climbed up her body to kiss her, his hunger palpable. She wrapped her legs around him, his cock trapped between them. He nibbled the edges of her earlobe and nuzzled her neck just below her ear. By the time he stopped, she lay gasping, her body humming from tip to toe.

  He raised himself up from her enough to slip a hand into her panties. His fingertips stroked the smooth skin beneath, skating back and forth over the curve of her bald pubis, velvety soft under his fingertips, before continuing on to the creamy wetness between her thighs. She moaned as he slipped his fingers inside her, teasing her clit with soft flicks of his callused thumb. He worked his way back down her body, kissing and nipping. When his mouth reached the band of her panties, he pulled down on the lacy straps. Miranda lifted her hips. The panties disappeared. As she lowered her hips, Mario pushed on them, rolling her onto her side.

 
“Goddammit, Miranda,” he said, cupping the cheeks of her ass in his hands. “We have to come back to this later.”

  Her throaty laugh was infused with desire. She rolled onto her back. Mario continued where he had left off, nuzzling his way over the smooth rise of flesh.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” he murmured.

  His tongue slid into the soft cleft of her naked pubis. Miranda groaned as his tongue circled her clit, then whimpered as it flicked back and forth. Then he moved away to kiss and nuzzle the bare skin that nature had meant to stay covered.

  Back and forth he went, driving her wild, his ministrations lifting her higher and higher, only to stop when he lazily licked away to nuzzle and kiss the soft flesh just adjacent, or to stroke his fingers over her soft, bare skin. Ragged gasps of air barely escaped her throat. Her heart thrashed against her sternum. He teased her to the precipice, the pleasure and pressure and heat unbearable.

  His tongue slipped away.

  “Don’t do that,” she gasped.

  He returned to where she bid. Her heart hammered, the eruption building, she could feel herself tipping…

  He moved away again.

  “You…fucker.”

  Miranda felt his deep laugh against her as he once more slid his tongue right where she wanted it. Her engorged clit throbbed, the thumping pulsations of blood distending the tiny organ, making it quiver in time with her pounding pulse. She craved the mercy of release, straining toward his tongue and lips, his hot breath on her skin. She climbed higher, faster, blood rushing in her ears, heart about to burst, tipping, tipping, half expecting to have it snatched away as she hovered at the edge.

  She exploded into Mario’s mouth, bucking wildly, her orgasm engulfing her. She could not tamp down her cries as she was sent falling and flying, shockwaves of pleasure detonating through her. Mario’s lips and tongue surfed along with her body, never losing contact as she came, one orgasm tumbling into the next. When finally spent, she twisted away from him, now almost too sensitive to bear the lightest touch.

  Mario lifted himself over her. She opened her legs to meet him. He pushed into her constricted slickness, its warm embrace tight from her orgasms. A trill of triumph fizzed through her when he moaned as he entered her. Her hips rocked to meet his; his harsh sighs grew more urgent. She knew he loved to be inside her after she came as much as she wanted him there, when her eager body gripped him even tighter. She kissed him as they moved together, tasting herself on his lips. Their passion burned hotter, each pulse of pleasure building on the last until she spasmed around him with a final cry, her orgasm triggering his.

  Mario collapsed on the bedroll beside her, sweat mixed with the sharp musk of sex heavy in the air. Miranda wheezed as if she had just run a marathon. Mario rolled on his side and pulled her to him.

  “Yell much?” he asked, his lips tickling the back of her neck.

  “You got me so worked up I couldn’t be quiet. I can’t believe Doug hasn’t knocked the door down thinking we’re being eaten alive.”

  “No danger of that,” Mario said, already sounding sleepy. “I told him I planned to jump you.”

  Miranda flipped over to face him, mortified. It was ridiculous to feel this way, but a part of her did.

  “You told him?”

  “Honey, it’s okay,” he said, laughing softly, but not in a way that made her feel like the laughter was at her expense. “Doug knows we’re sleeping together.”

  Her burst of laughter filled the room. She knew that she should not care if she was unable to stay quiet sometimes in close quarters, even if she felt awkward afterward. She had never begrudged anyone she had heard over the years. The pleasures of their world were so often fleeting—you had to make hay while the sun shined. The sun shone? She could never keep those stupid things straight. She had trouble keeping most things straight after a fuck like that. Doug would razz her without mercy tomorrow, but even that could not penetrate her drowsy contentment.

  “We need to get some clothes on,” she said, a deep wave of sleepiness threatening to pull her under. “Because zombies.”

  “I know,” Mario murmured. He did not move, except to pull her closer to him. His dark eyes seemed to peer straight into her heart. “I love you so much.”

  Miranda’s heart felt overfull, happiness splashing over its edges. She wanted to fall into the depths of his brown eyes, into the love and tenderness she saw there, and stay forever. Instead, she dragged herself to sitting through sheer force of will. She smoothed Mario’s half-damp hair from his face. He was so relaxed that the crow’s feet at the corners of eyes almost disappeared. He looked like a twenty-year-old, hardly more than a boy she had snatched from a cradle.

  “I love you, too,” she said. “Now move your sorry ass and get your clothes back on.”

  Mario looked at her through squinted eyes, his enthusiasm to comply markedly absent.

  “You’re way less bossy when we’re fucking.”

  Miranda smiled. “So are you.”

  8

  The next day, Miranda stamped her feet, trying to warm them up. They were out of the wind on this side of one of the solar power manufacturing facilities that she and Doug had found on a map, but it was still cold enough to turn her breath into a white mist.

  “Thank God we’re on the West Coast,” Doug said. He crouched on his knees as he tried to pick a lock to a building big enough to be an air hangar. “At least solar was commonplace out here before the Green New Deal so we don’t have to go twenty miles to find this stuff.”

  “Even with bikes, that would be a drag,” Miranda agreed. She felt a little surge of joy over the mountain bikes they had found halfway here. “I didn’t expect to find a factory so near.” She sighed. “I am not looking forward to figuring out how to install this stuff.”

  “I expected you to be more of a know-it-all, Miri, what with the solar at the Farm.”

  “Converted residential is my specialty, not these commercial systems. And I haven’t done much with it the last couple years.”

  “Well, let’s get inside first and see if there’s anything worth using.”

  They fell silent again. Miranda swept her gaze back and forth over the usual landscape of broken parking lot asphalt with copses of trees and abandoned cars and trucks rusting into immoveable hunks of steel. They’d been lucky so far today—no zombies.

  She glanced at Doug, then surreptitiously adjusted the crotch of her jeans. She had known it would be uncomfortable for a few days when she shaved her lady parts, and the other night had been more than worth it, but she hadn’t expected that it would be this miserable this quickly.

  “What is going on with you and your jeans?” Doug said, never taking his attention away from the lock he was picking.

  “What?”

  “Your jeans. You keep pulling at them like a little kid who doesn’t know better than to scratch their crotch in public.”

  Miranda felt her face get hot and tried to sound as dismissive as possible. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  Doug stopped moving his pick tools and looked at her. “Then what gives?” He squinted his eyes. “Are you blushing?”

  She glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong.” The speculative look on Doug’s face meant that he thought there might be something to harass her about, so she lied. “I got my period this morning. Happy?”

  “Oh.”

  “So unless you know where to find some tampons, put a sock in it.”

  “Okay, sorry,” he said, looking contrite.

  Several minutes passed before she heard a click and Doug’s triumphant, ‘Hah!’ Doug packed his pick kit, then pulled his machete from its sheath while she screwed the suppressor into the barrel of her gun. When zombies popped out from behind closed doors, she preferred the speed of using firearms. She also preferred to not lose her hearing.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  Several hours later, Miranda felt moderately hopeful that the
y could make the equipment they had found work, assuming they could figure out a way to transport it. She was also so cold that the roots of her teeth ached. Outside was chilly enough. The refrigerator effect of this closed, unheated building dropped the temperature another ten degrees. She blew into her hands, trying to warm them, and kept working her way through the boxes of installation instructions.

  “Ready to pack it in?” Doug said from across the darkening room. “We can pull some of the sheet metal into that break room and make a temporary firepit. If we vent it through the high windows, we can burn the wood pallets we saw on the way in here. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing my ass off.”

  “Sounds amazing,” Miranda said. She straightened up and arched her low back, sighing at the welcome release of tension. The concrete floor beneath the industrial carpet had done her hips, legs, knees, and every joint in her feet no favors. “I want to eat something and crawl into my sleeping bag. No heat sucks.”

  “Being outside with no heat sucks more,” Doug said. “We should check out their delivery trucks in the morning, see if any are in good enough shape to repair. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and one of them will be solar-powered.”

  “Dude, you’re smoking crack,” she said. “Let’s go use beautiful, combustible fuel to warm up.”

  “It’ll be like a camping trip. We can braid each other’s hair.” He winked, then his face became serious. “Besides, I need to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “About what Mario does in the sack that makes you scream like that.”

  “Oh, go fuck yourself,” she snapped, Doug’s peals of laughter filling her ears. “You’re a real asshole sometimes. You know that?”

  “I know,” he snorted, and laughed harder.