Savages Boxed Set

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "How would that help?"

  At this, she shrugged. "It could incense the right people. You'd be surprised. There's a lot of people out there who actively try to shut down things like this. Operations other people are too scared to take on. In the grand scheme of things... I'm a nobody. My skills are pathetic compared to what some of these people can do. And some of them aren't just freaks behind a computer screen. They're people who... do shit. If I can ferret them out, get them interested, maybe they will take action into their own hands."

  I couldn't disagree with her. There had been a lot of hackers calling themselves hacktivists all over the news in the past few years. Taking down federal websites, turning the internet back on in Egypt when the government shut it down, releasing the names of KKK members, trolling organizations until they caved into whatever demands the hackers were making. They were powerful in ways I didn't understand but knew enough to respect.

  "How long would that take?"

  "No way to tell," she said, typing until my screen went black and some site opened up a forum called 'info exchange'. "Could be minutes. Could be days. But it's worth a try."

  I had to agree since it was all we really had to go on.

  So she set to work, digging out the occasional USB, unlocking certain files, adding them to the post she was creating. Crime reports of beaten and raped women with descriptions of their attacker, detailing a very specific scar he had running across his chest. She found a shirtless picture of Lex and posted it beside the reports, scar on full display. Then she opened the USB that made her pale, unlocking a folder saying simply 'faces' - and uploaded half a dozen shots of women with their faces brutalized.

  She ended the post explaining her situation. Who she was (a nickname. Not her real name). That she had been working on her case for ten years. That she was compromised and there was a price on her head. Leaving out the part about me. Detailing how many more incriminating files she had on the topic. Then giving instructions for anyone to contact her.

  Which was, apparently, through some kind of coded chat that she was going to leave open on my laptop to keep an eye on.

  "Now we wait," she said, settling the laptop on the coffee table and reaching for her cold coffee. She was silent for a minute, contemplating the black TV. "How long do you think I have?"

  "What?" I asked, turning to look at her.

  "Before Lex finally decides to come fetch me. How long?"

  That was a good question. One I had been considering myself. He didn't seem like he was in a rush when he told me of the deal. And maybe that was because he wanted me to get worried about Shoot. The more time that passed, the more chance of him getting himself into trouble. If Lex made me sweat it, maybe I would be more willing to hand over Alex.

  At least, that was all I could come up with anyway.

  Nothing else made sense.

  "Not more than a few more days I'd guess," I admitted. "Three tops."

  Alex simply nodded. No hysterics. No reaction whatsoever.

  "Did you happen to pick me up..."

  At this, I sighed, reaching into my front pocket and pulling out a baggy with white powder. "This is the good shit. Strong. A third of this could make a non-user OD." I handed it to her. "Ain't never bought drugs before," I admitted, looking down at the baggy.

  "Well, at least it was for a good cause," she tried lightening the mood.

  "Doll, you dying... that ain't a good cause."

  She looked away from me, taking the smack and slipping it into her boot, ripping the lining slightly away from the ankle to push the baggie between the lining and the leather. Easy access, but hidden.

  "Alex," I called, watching her look blankly across the room.

  "What?" she asked, her voice distant.

  "Look at me."

  She exhaled sharply and turned her head. And there was just... nothing there. No sadness. No horror. Again, just her grim resignation to her fate.

  "Come here," I said, stretching an arm across the back of the couch.

  "What?" she asked, brows drawing together.

  "Come over here," I repeated.

  "Why?" she asked, but her body had turned slightly. Even without knowing why, her body wanted to be closer to mine.

  "Because I am going to show you one of the many reasons you should be upset about not being alive to keep experiencing." Her eyes held mine, seeing my intentions, and weighing whether or not she was going to submit herself to them. "Seventy-two hours, doll," I went on. "We could both be dead. The fuck we wasting time for?"

  Her eyes slanted to the laptop for a second, seeing no activity, then letting her eyes fall on mine. I saw it before she did. In the quickening and shallow-ing of her breath. In her slightly parted lips. In her heavy lidded eyes.

  She swallowed, wet her lips, then closed the space between us.

  EIGHT

  Alex

  I knew what he meant. The second he told me to go to him, I knew. It was in his voice. Lower. Deeper. Almost soft. And it sent a ripple of desire through my system.

  The question was... did I want to go to him? Knowing that it wouldn't be another kiss. Knowing his fingers would slide up my thigh, find the sweet spot, work it. Knowing that it wouldn't stop there. That within the next hour, I would know what it felt like to have him inside of me.

  And did my libido want that? Hell freaking yeah.

  But did I?

  I had about thirty seconds to decide, with a clear and rational mind, if it was incredibly twisted and stupid... or the best decision I could make.

  To go out with a bang, as it were.

  I'd had sex before. Once when I was sixteen. With one of the older kids living at the group home. I don't know why really. I wasn't ready. I barely had a grasp on the concept of sex, let alone the possible physical and emotional repercussions. I long since learned to blame the grief, the loss of everything I knew, the need to feel alive again.

  Danny had been tall and strong with dark hair and piercing green eyes. From the moment I walked into the common room, his eyes were on mine. I learned later that it was because he banged all the new chicks provided they were halfway decent looking. But at the time, I had thought I was special.

  Then he started hanging around me, talking sweet, using kid gloves as if sensing (more likely, having known from previous experience) how fragile I was.

  A couple days later, I fell onto my back in his bed. He stripped us both, slipped on a condom that had come in a camouflage wrapper that boasted "Don't let them see you coming!", and slammed inside me. As most would expect (though I was wholly clueless), it hurt like a bitch. But was thankfully over in under five minutes.

  I found out later that while he was fucking me, his buddies were stealing my shit.

  A few days later, I was moved to a foster house.

  I didn't have sex again until I was nineteen. Though I did have the unfortunate repeat occurrence of fending off at least three of my foster fathers and then pretending I didn't notice the fourth one would come in and jerk off while watching me 'sleep'.

  The guy when I was nineteen was named Glenn, and was someone who had taken time out of his life to sit me down and teach me all the things about computers and hacking that I hadn't already picked up- the skills that would allow me to make a living of it. And gather better information on Lex.

  I guess it could be said that I fucked him out of gratitude. I had nothing else to offer.

  And he was nice enough. Twenty-five, a little short, kinda pudgy, with pasty white skin and big black-rimmed glasses. He could have been cute had he put any kind of effort into his appearance or wardrobe. There was none of the rough hands and frantic stabbing of a cock that my first partner provided me with. Glenn had hot hands, always just shy of truly clammy. But they always touched me softly, hesitantly. And his cock had only ever seemed half-hard when he got it inside me, slid around for a few minutes, made a choking sound in his throat, and came.

  Such was sex for me.

  So experience had
n't exactly suggested it would be a fun way to spend what little time I obviously had left.

  But that being said, Good Guy Glenn and Dickhead Danny were not Breaker. They had been man-boys. They had been guys with cocks and no idea how to use them.

  Something told me that Breaker knew how to use his.

  And my body responded to that.

  It had never done that before.

  Sex had been a weird detached sensation.

  Certainly not hot.

  Nothing like the fire I felt when Breaker's lips were on me.

  And if he could manage that with just his lips, what could he do with the rest of him?

  Maybe I owed it to myself to see.

  With that, I folded my legs up under myself and moved until I was kneeling beside his body on the couch, my knees pressing against his thigh.

  His eyes found mine a second before his hands went out, grabbing my hips, and pulling me roughly until I was straddling his waist.

  I had the almost blinding realization that I was completely naked underneath his tee before his fingers pressed into my hipbone hollows, drawing a throaty groan out of my lips and making me forget all about unimportant things like panties.

  My hands went to his chest, pressing down both to steady myself and to feel connected to him.

  He was barely touching me and I could feel the pulsating desire between my thighs.

  "You want more, you're gonna have to take it," he said, making my body jerk back slightly. Take it? Take what? As if sensing my confusion, he added, "I ain't no slow and sweet lover, doll. I fuck hard and rough and you'll probably walk away from this with some bruises along with your memories. You accept that? You want that? Then you are gonna make the first move."

  Oh.

  Well.

  Okay then.

  I was pretty sure I wanted that.

  I had never needed to initiate before. Douchebag Danny had pounced on me. Shy, awkward Glenn had kinda just fumbled around until I responded. Sort of.

  I was pretty sure I could initiate. I wasn't sure what kind of initiative he was expecting, but I slowly leaned forward, my hands pressing harder against his chest as they took some of my weight and pressed my lips to his.

  Apparently, that was enough.

  His hands slid from my hips, going around my lower back and completely flattening my body to his. Then one of his arms moved up my back, his hand grabbing the back of my neck hard as his head tilted and he deepened the kiss, his teeth snagging my lower lip hard and pulling. Unprepared, my hips jerked, rubbing against his, finding his cock straining hard against the material of his jeans.

  Breaker's tongue slipped inside my mouth, repeating the same predatory mating dance it had the last time, promising things as well as demanding them. My hands moved up toward his shoulders, curling in, feeling like I needed to hold on. The arm around my lower back tightened and pushed down until I felt the exposed sensitivity of my sex brush against the rough material containing his cock. A surprised gasp escaped my lips and a growl burst from his, his mouth pulling from mine, his eyes holding mine as he pulled my hips across his hardness.

  My hands curled into the skin on the sides of his neck, my mouth falling open on a huff of air.

  His hand released the back of my neck, his fingers moving around to brush ever-so slightly over the skin near my collarbone, making a shiver course through my body.

  "You're so sensitive," he said, his voice even deeper than usual and it sent a shiver to somewhere he couldn't see but I could feel all too clearly. "Arms up, doll," he instructed, both of his hands sliding down to settle at the hem of his tee that was inched up high on my thighs. My arms went up above my head and with no pretense, he whipped the material off my body, leaving me naked on top of him while he was still completely dressed. "Fuck me," he said under his breath, his hands planting on the sides of my thighs while his eyes roamed over my body.

  I had never had much cause to feel insecurity. Given that I spent almost all of my time alone, wearing whatever I wanted, foregoing makeup, barely bothering to run a brush through my hair some days, it never much occurred to me to feel much of anything about my body.

  I knew most would feel self-consciousness in my position.

  But Breaker's ice blue eyes raked over me like I was something of a wonder, something to be memorized, something he never wanted to forget.

  So it didn't even occur to me to feel like I should hide that from him. Or even want to.

  His hands slid up my thighs, over my hips, up my sides, then rested, spanning out on my rib cage, the bottoms of his thumbs brushing up against the undersides of my breasts.

  His eyes went up to mine and held as his hands moved up and cupped my breasts, squeezing hard. My nipples hardened under his palms and my chest felt suddenly weighted, a heaviness there that I had never experienced before.

  My brows drew together questioningly, but before he could even register the expression, he was moving. Knifing up from his position whilst slamming my back against the cushions of the couch and coming down on top of me, his lips taking possession of mine again.

  My legs struggled underneath his, trying to break free. He brought a knee up between them, lifting some of his weight and I yanked my legs from under him and wrapped them around his back, pulling him down on me again. He made a grunting noise as his mouth lifted, running down the side of my neck, his beard burning across my skin as his teeth nipped into it.

  And it was new.

  Everything about what I was feeling was new. Foreign. But still somehow familiar. Like it had always been there, sleeping under the surface, waiting for someone to wake it up.

  It was awake.

  And it was consuming.

  Like being on fire. That was what being with Breaker felt like... like I was burning, but blissfully sinking into the sensation, wanting to go deeper and deeper to see where I ended up, even if that meant in ashes.

  Breaker's head tilted and moved down between my breasts, his beard tickling across my overly sensitive skin before his lips closed around my nipple and sucked hard. I arched off the couch, pushing myself further into his mouth, my hand slapping down on the back of his neck, holding him to me. Wanting, needing more.

  His head pulled against my restraint but only to shift and take possession of my other nipple, sucking for a minute before nipping into it hard enough for me to yelp and jerk away.

  To this, his head tilted to look up at me, a devilish smile playing at his lips.

  He rested his weight on one of his forearms beside me, lifting slightly off my body to give him access. His head raised above mine, watching my face as his hand slid across my ribs, down my side, over my stomach. Then he paused, the smile coming back to his lips a split second before his hand flew between my thighs, stroking up my slick cleft.

  My entire body jerked upward, my mouth opening to moan as my hand slapped down hard on his shoulder.

  "Fuckin' drenched," he growled, his finger sliding upward and finding my clit, circling it quickly.

  No. Nothing had ever come close to this before.

  This overwhelming sensation.

  The feeling like I was going to explode and fall apart.

  But not wanting to do anything but experience it.

  My heart rate sped up. My pulse pounded hard in my throat and temples.

  Then just as quickly as he touched me, he pulled his finger away, chuckling when I whimpered and ground my hips up toward him. He brought his hand up, taking his finger and slipping it into his mouth, tasting me.

  I felt the blush heat my cheeks as I watched on helplessly, both embarrassed and too turned on to look away.

  He made some sort of approving sound in his throat, pulling his finger out. "Remember what I said about getting my tongue in some pussy?" he asked, surprising me.

  I did. I seemed to remember everything he said.

  "That you do it if it's real sweet?" I half declared, half asked.

  He nodded slightly. "You got a real sweet fuc
kin' pussy, doll," he said, smiling again as he shifted his weight, leaned down, and trailed his tongue down the center of my belly.

  My hand slipped into his hair as he moved downward, his head tilting by my hip. Then his teeth dug into my inner thigh.

  "Fuck," I growled, my hands curling in his hair. Then his head shifted again and his tongue traced the path his finger had blazed earlier, not hesitating, not teasing, just sliding up and landing on the sweet spot, circling it with a light but firm pressure. "Oh, my God..." I groaned, my hips rising up to meet him, my back arching off the cushions.

  There was a tightening in my core, like a coil pulled too taut. My breath became ragged and shallow as his tongue drove me upward, closer and closer to something promising fireworks.

  His lips went around my clit, sucking gently, making me buck beneath him.

  And that's when I heard it. A ringing. And felt it. A vibrating. Against my calf. His cell was ringing.

  I felt the desire being pulled back slightly, opening my eyes to look down at him. But he was either oblivious to it or simply ignoring it, his lips releasing the sensitive point and his tongue continuing its torture. His hand slid beneath him and I felt his finger pulsing at my entrance before quickly pushing in to the hilt.

  "Breaker..." I moaned, both my hands clutching at his head.

  There was a brief silence of his cell before it began ringing again.

  "Fuck," he growled, lifting his head off of me, letting his eyes rise to mine. "Sorry, baby... gotta take this," he said, his finger sliding out of me as he moved to sit by my feet and pull his cell out of his pocket.

  Almost as a second thought, I pressed my thighs together, knees at an angle to one side. I pushed them closed firmly, feeling the insistent throbbing of unfulfilled desire settling in.

  I was only half aware of Breaker as my system seemed to be on high alert, sending off sparks of energy through my nerve endings, making my body feel like it was jerking with the sensation.