The Naughty Collection

by Ruby City Books

  If Casey had known she’d have to rely on the two of them to keep her alive during a zombie attack, she might have been just a touch choosier, though to be fair, the news reports hadn’t made it seem like it was going to amount to anything at first. A few news reports about a strange illness emerging in Malaysia, something that looked like a weird form of leprosy. None of the reporters on CNN had confirmed anything, and the people on NPR made everything sound horrible, so who was going to pay attention to that? And then it was in India, where it spread quickly throughout all of Asia, and suddenly the illness was in Europe, the news showing nervous reporters looking at their notes as they detailed that the strange illness had been found in a passenger aboard a plane to Boston. After that, everything had happened so fast. It seemed ridiculous that Casey was going to painting class and making out with Andrew only last week.

  Now the three roommates huddled in the attic against one another, Casey in the middle absorbing both their warmth, and they listened to the dim sound of moans that had been going on for hours now. They’d boarded up every opening they could think of, finishing just as the first zombie clawed at the side of the house, and then they’d boarded themselves inside the attic. They had walls of boxes filled with canned food all around them; the entire bathtub in the small bathroom was filled with water; and they’d brought up every blanket and pillow they owned. Now they waited. Casey clutched her Swiss Army knife and tried to breathe properly. Jeff blew on a piece of blonde hair that had fallen across his face. Max sat with his arms on his knees, flipping the hammer in the air higher and higher.

  “Ow.”

  “Max,” Casey said wearily. “Would you just…”

  “Red,” Max snapped, using the nickname he knew she hated the most. “If you’re planning on shouting orders at us for the rest of eternity, I’m going to have to kill you right now.”

  “That’d be useful,” said Jeff idly. “Then we’d have some fresh meat to sustain us for the long zombie winter.”

  “God, fuck you both, you’re only alive because I’m not as brain dead as the two of you seem to be,” Casey huffed. She eyed the hammer spinning in Max’s hand. “And I’d like to see you try to kill me. Since you can’t even reinforce a window.”

  “Right, you know everything there is to know about zombies, I totally forgot.” Max rolled his eyes. “Because you’re, what, a hunter? A professional boxer? A scientist? Oh, wait.”

  God, what an asshole. He was baiting her. Casey could feel her ears burning, which was never a good sign. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her temper. Without thinking, she brought out her phone and looked at the screen.

  “Stop wasting your battery, Case,” said Jeff. “He’s not gonna text you.”

  “Who, ‘New Boyfriend’? Ha,” snorted Max. “Pretty sure ‘New Boyfriend’ is humping some crying sorority girl right now.”

  “His name,” Casey snarled, “is Andrew. And no he isn’t.” She stuffed her phone underneath the sleeping bag beneath her. “And fuck you.”

  “What, can’t handle the heat, Red?” Max smirked, his shoulder warm against Casey’s arm. “Oh how sweet, she’s blushing, Jeff. Our little delicate flower is blushing.”

  Casey reached out and shoved Max, harder than she’d intended to. He tipped over and sprawled on his side. Max shook with mirth.

  “Oh he is,” Max laughed, gasping for air. “He absolutely is. It’s the end of the world, Red. This is a prime experience to get as much ass as possible. He’s probably got some hot, blonde Psych major pressed up against a wall with his hand down her panties even as we speak.”

  Oh, God. It was happening. Casey could feel her anger crawling like insects up her limbs and into her head, where it pounded like a drum. It had been such a horrible, surreal day, and this little shithead was probably right, and now she wanted to strangle someone, and if it couldn’t be ‘New Boyf’ – no, Andrew – then it would have to be Max. Casey tackled him, pinning his hands down to the ground and sitting on his pelvis, using her strong thighs to fix him firmly beneath her, cursing at him blindly. Max looked up at her, panting, eyes wide with surprise and that stupid smirk still hiding on his mouth. He writhed, trying to free himself, and then suddenly he bucked his hips beneath her. The two of them stilled. They stared at each other for a long moment, quieted. Below them, zombies moaned and scratched at the outer walls of the house.

  Finally, Jeff cleared his throat. Max blinked, and something in his face shut down.

  “Get off me, Red,” Max said, his voice strangely hoarse.

  Casey tore herself away from him.

  “Um. Sorry.”

  Max rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Uh. Me too.”

  Casey looked up at the crown molding on the attic ceiling so she wouldn’t have to look at those green eyes again. Her heart pounded.

  They sat in silence until, one by one, the three of them drifted off to sleep.

  Casey sat up with a jolt. It was pitch black in the attic, save for a small square of light beaming through the tiny window in the center of the slanted roof. Heavy, steady sounds of deep sleep filled the room, and she felt the body of one of the boys near her shift in his sleep under the heavy layers of blankets. Then she felt it again: something slammed into the side of the house, and Casey felt the structure shudder in a way that wasn’t comforting at all. Suddenly she felt a hand cover her own, and a face appeared beside hers.

  “It’s okay,” said Jeff’s voice in her ear. “It’s just the zombies.”

  “This is fucking ridiculous,” she whispered back.

  Jeff’s laugh was warm and comforting against the small hairs by her ear. “No shit.”

  Casey realized with a shiver of horror that the moaning had grown louder. “They haven’t broken into the house, have they?” she said, horrified.

  But Jeff was shaking his head. “We’d know if they were in the house. I think there are just more of them. They’re accumulating, or something.”

  She passed a hand over her face tiredly, letting her fingers toy with her long, frizzy red braid. “Well can’t they fuck off so we can get some sleep?”

  Jeff laughed again. She felt him shift his body closer to hers, and his knee brushed her thigh. They sat in an easy silence, their sides pressed against one another, as they listened to the cacophony of the mindless drone beneath them.

  “I don’t think Andrew is fucking someone else,” Jeff murmured.

  Now it was Casey’s turn to laugh softly, her head turned towards him so she wouldn’t wake Max. (God forbid.) “He absolutely is,” she whispered back, “but thank you for saying that.”

  All at once, she was aware of how close Jeff’s face was to hers, and of the warm air passing through the space between them. There was just enough light in the attic room to fall softly on his long eyelashes, casting faint shadows down his cheek. Casey gulped, watching his dark eyes travel across the planes of her face. She moved her fingers on her shins and let them brush his skin.

  “I,” she said, not knowing where she was going with this sentence, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “Case,” Jeff replied, and maybe he didn’t know what he was saying, either. Their faces were so close. Their mouths were even closer.

  The house shook as another wave of zombies washed up against the wooden siding. Casey couldn’t help but gasp.

  “We should go to sleep,” said Jeff. He moved away from her and curled onto his side.

  Casey sighed. “Yeah. Probably.”

  She laid her head down and stared at the ceiling, trying to think about anything but why her heart was still beating so hard.

  Day 6 of the zombie apocalypse. The undead threw themselves against the sides of the house, while upstairs, boarded in the attic, Casey frowned. The boys waited anxiously, watching her as she studied the situation laid out in front of her. The zombies screamed outside, but none of the three roommates seemed to notice. Finally she groaned in frustration and laid down the set of cards in her hand. “Fine. Fine. Yes,
I have two Queens. You’re an asshole.”

  Max whooped, whirling his discarded t-shirt above his head in circles. “Take a shot and lose the pants, Red,” he hollered. “You’re just bleeding cards.”

  “I fucking hate Go Fish,” Casey muttered. She’d already lost her shirt, and now she’d be down to her underwear. Meanwhile, Max had only lost his shirt, and Jeff a pair of sweaty gym socks. How were these assholes bad at washing dishes and functioning as people, but so good at Go Fish? She reached into the center of the circle, took up the bottle of whiskey and the shot glass, and swallowed down her third shot of the night with a grimace. Then she obediently undid the zipper on her jeans and pulled them down to her ankles. She looked down, trying to remember which pair of underwear she was wearing, and groaned again when she realized it was her pair of Wonder Woman boy briefs. Jesus. She could have put on any other pair of underwear that morning while Jeff made baked beans on the camping stove for breakfast. It could have been those purple lacy ones, or at least something made for a woman. Casey felt her face burn in humiliation as Jeff and Max let their eyes run up and down her pale, freckled legs to the incriminating pair of underwear. ax fell back, laughing so hard his chest muscles rippled.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Red?” he panted gleefully. “Wonder Woman?”

  Jeff’s dark eyes slid up to her own. “I think it’s hot,” he said, and grabbing the bottle from her hand, he took a long swig while he held her gaze. Casey felt a grin tug at the corners of her mouth. Max rolled his eyes. He turned to Jeff.

  “Got any fives?” he asked slyly. Jeff narrowed his eyes.

  “Goddamn cheater,” he growled, and threw the card at Max’s forehead. Max caught the card easily and gestured at Max’s pants. “No pants for you either, champ.”

  Jeff tossed his blonde hair off his face, took a shot, and stood up. He let his jeans fall easily from his jutting hipbones, exposing the long, lean calves and thighs of a former soccer player and a pair of white briefs that stretched over what Casey could tell was an impressive bulge. She could feel her clit beginning to flutter and she stared up at the ceiling instead. She wouldn’t give this philandering idiot roommate of hers the satisfaction of knowing she was turned on by the sight of his barely clad body.

  Max leaned back onto a heap of sleeping bags, a smug look of contentment on his face. “Alrighty now,” he drawled. “Let me see.” He studied the wealth of cards in his hand with mock severity, and even though the (barely) sober, reasonable part of Casey’s brain knew that this was just a dumb card game they were playing to stave off the real terror that was banging and moaning against the doors downstairs, her palms began to sweat. What if he asked for her last remaining 3?

  “Red,” said Max, his eyes drifting down over the soft cups of her breasts and her stomach to her Wonder Woman underpants. Casey glared at him. He smirked. “Got any Jacks?”

  “Ha!” Casey cried triumphantly, her arms pumping up into the air. “Lose the pants, Max, I gave all my Jacks to Jeff!”

  Max’s face crumpled into a grimace. He let his cards fall from his hand and, sighing, he leaned back and unzipped his own jeans. Then he looked right at Casey, his green eyes flickering strangely, and began pulling the pant legs down his long legs. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment and something else she wasn’t willing to acknowledge. Of course Max was wearing gray, soft boxers that flowed around the hard lines of his body. They were probably made of some kind of special bamboo silk or something equally annoying and luxurious. Casey tried desperately not to admire his legs and the large cock evident beneath the thin material, but his legs were just so impossibly long and browned. God, she must be drunker than she thought. Max lifted the shot glass to his lips and licked the rim. Casey looked down at the pile of blankets beneath them. Sober up, sober up, sober up, she said to herself.

  Jeff threw down his cards. “I’m sick of playing Go Fish,” he said, drawling more and more the drunker he got. His eyes flashed. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

  Casey put up a freckled hand in protest. “Only if no one dares anyone to go downstairs and get eaten by zombies,” she said, hiccuping. “That just seems like a dick move to me.”

  The boys nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”

  “Truth or Dare,” Jeff shot at Max. Max shook his head and took another shot.

  “Dare, asshole,” he said, a pearl of whiskey at the corner of his mouth.

  Jeff grinned. “I dare you to get completely naked.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Wow. Very creative, Jeff. I’m so impressed with your intellectual prowess.”

  “Do it,” Jeff hooted. “Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!”

  Max rose unsteadily to his feet. Slowly, like a sinuous cat, he let the fabric of his cotton t-shirt rise inch by inch over his head until his muscled chest was bare, the shirt falling to the floor. Casey realized she’d never really looked at Max’s body before. Being a massage therapist really had its perks, she thought to herself drunkenly. Max tossed a wink in Jeff’s direction. “That was for you,” he said to him, slurring a little. Then his green eyes found Casey’s again.

  “And this,” he said, his thumbs hooked around the dark waistband of his obnoxiously dreamy undergarments, “is for you, Red.” He slid the fabric down his legs and his large, half-hard cock sprung free into the open. It was an impressive member, thick and veined and begging for her mouth to come lick it until it stood on its own, shining and ready to plunge into her… Casey felt an immediate rush of heat down into her groin. She desperately clenched her fists in the blankets. They were too drunk. They were all too drunk for this game, and, for that matter, for any part of what was happening right now.

  Jeff looked back and forth between Max and Casey, a conflicted look on his face as though he could feel the heat passing between them. Then he, too, got up from his nest of whiskey bottles and cards. “Fuck this,” he said, and slid his briefs down to his ankles. And now for a second time, Casey was faced with another impossibly beautiful cock, rising and bending upwards, soft and pink and long and smooth, and if she could just get her tongue to lick up and down its length and ready it to be stuffed inside her… Casey violently shook her blushing head and took another gulp from the bottle of whiskey resting by her ankle.

  “You trying to compete with me, Jeffery?” Max said, looking at him sideways. Jeff jutted his square jaw in Max’s direction.

  “Don’t think it’d be much of a competition,” Jeff replied, shrugging, and the motion made his member bob up and down. Casey’s ears blazed as she realized she was wet, and it would probably soak through her stupid Wonder Woman underpants at any moment.

  Max glared at Jeff. “Truth or Dare,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Jeff glared back. “Dare,” he said.

  Max snarled, “I dare you to a jerk off contest.”

  “What,” Casey choked. “What. No. What. You. No.”

  But Jeff gave Max a hard look. “How would you even evaluate that?”

  “Red can judge,” Max shrugged.

  “No,” said Casey helplessly. “For fuck’s sake, what are you even…”

  Jeff’s mouth was set in a hard line. “Done.”

  Max rifled through several boxes surrounding them and extricated a bottle of lotion. He squeezed some into his hand and tossed the bottle at Jeff, who caught it easily and gave himself a large dollop.

  “What the fuck are you doing,” Casey demanded. “What is happening. This is so deeply weird and fucked up and can you please just both sit down and put your pants back on and we can go back to the part where we aren’t insane? Why are you doing this? What is this about?”

  Jeff’s hand was poised above his quivering cock. Max gave Casey a glare that burned a path through the air.

  “Come on, Red,” he said. “You know what this is about.”

  “What…” Casey said again, not comprehending his meaning. But then suddenly it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered – not the zombies downstairs, nor the
fact that they were trapped in their attic for the unforeseeable future – because the two boys, with a final glower, began stroking their cocks. Casey’s mouth fell open. They were really doing this. And she was going to watch. She was beyond the point of mortification now: her underwear was soaked with the juices flooding her folds, and she could feel her clit throb.

  This was… this was hot. Max, ever the massage therapist, had a way of stroking himself that was slow and sensual, his fingers trailing along the veins that bulged in the wide shaft. He pumped at himself so slowly, it was as if Casey could feel the pressure building inside his thick, shining member. The head glimmered with tiny white pearls of pre-come that dribbled down the sides into the coarse, dark hair that curled around his ball sacs. Casey felt herself begin to rock her pelvis against the floor, letting the friction of her underwear rubbing against her clit push her into a rhythm that matched Max’s sure, steady hand. Jeff, on the other hand, pulled on his length with quick movements that slipped and slid over the long, pink member that was now slick with lotion. Casey could see his muscular chest ripple with each brutal movement of his rough hand, his green eyes bright and his mouth open. Casey rubbed her clit harder against the floor. She couldn’t help but think of the two of them filling each and every one of her holes, coming inside her mouth, letting her swallow their salty white come… Fuck it. She reached a hand down and began stroking a finger against her folds and her button of pleasure through the fabric of her underwear, and before she could stop herself, she was moaning with pleasure of her own.