The Pulse: Book 1 in the Pulse Trilogy

by Shoshanna Evers

  And in Grand Central, being fuckable was pretty much the only thing keeping her healthy and alive. Fortunately for her sanity, she loved sex, though she’d never had a lot of partners before the Pulse.

  Not that she didn’t want them—she often fantasized about hooking up with strangers. But society, pre-Pulse society, that is, would have labeled her a slut. Now she labeled herself: a survivor.

  Here at the camp Jenna could fuck whoever the hell she wanted without worrying about her reputation. The women were all so malnourished that practically no one got pregnant. The few who did were moved upstairs, off the Tracks. All the more reason to keep having sex with any man around—pregnancy was a rare ticket out of hell. As for spreading STDs, well, no one gave it much thought. It’s not like they had any condoms left, or any STD tests. The very real risk of spreading disease was pushed under the rug and ignored by almost everyone, including herself.

  The thought that she might have a sexual addiction had crossed her mind, but if she did, so what? If anything, it saved her life.

  Sex was currency here on the Tracks.

  Jenna stepped off the stalled subway car onto the underground track and waved to the two soldiers headed her way.

  She had met them upstairs while wandering around the main terminal, taking in the bit of sunlight streaming through the huge windows. Down on the Tracks, the numerous garbage fires provided the only light.

  She looked at the two soldiers who had come to her subway car with a big smile. Maybe after they hooked up she’d be able to ask if they’d heard anything about Emily.

  Her roomie had been missing for days, and Jenna worried about her. She asked around, but no one knew anything… or if they did, they weren’t saying.

  Jenna would happily give up eating a full ration to have her friend back. Emily had been like a sister to her since Jenna first came to the Tracks.

  “Two of ya, huh?” Jenna asked the soldiers. The thought actually turned her on. She’d never had a threesome with two men before. A woman and a man, yes. But not two men. She felt her pussy clench in excitement.

  But, she remembered, business first.

  “Whatcha got?” she asked, inviting the men in with a smile.

  The taller one wore a nametag on his army camo that said JOHNSON. The other one was Pearce, it seemed. Unless they wore dead men’s uniforms, which was also a possibility.

  Pearce grinned and handed her two cigarettes.

  Cigarettes! She thought they had all been smoked ages ago. “Wow,” she said, impressed. “Thank you.”

  “So you cool with this?” Pearce asked, seeming to genuinely care. That’s sorta sweet.

  “Absolutely,” she said, pulling her dirty shirt off and tossing it on the floor of the subway car.

  Pearce smiled and both he and Johnson stripped their shirts off.

  Jenna felt a rush of heat go through her as the testosterone level surged in the cramped subway car. Wiggling out of her sweat pants, she stood naked before the men.

  “You’re beautiful,” Johnson said, his voice tinged with what sounded like awe. Jenna flushed at the compliment.

  Reaching down, he touched her nipple, his caress bringing the tip to a hard peak. Jenna arched into his hand, and a moan escaped her lips as Pearce stepped behind her and ran his palms over her ass at the same time.

  Oh, that felt nice.

  “You like my ass?” she purred, looking over her shoulder at him. He smiled in response and gave it a little hard smack. “Go ahead, baby,” she said, urging him on, “I won’t break.”

  Pearce slapped her ass, building up a steady rhythm until she writhed under his touch, pressing against Johnson’s hands as he tweaked her nipples.

  She moaned, gasping as Johnson dipped his head down and sucked her nipple into her mouth, biting gently.

  Pearce dropped his hand from her ass and slid his finger along her slick folds. “Damn, you are wet for us.”

  He dropped to his knees behind her and she spread her legs wider, feeling his tongue as it licked and kissed her spank-reddened flesh.

  He pressed one long finger inside her cunt and withdrew it, lubricating her asshole with her own juices.

  Johnson dropped to his knees then too and captured her clit in his mouth, flicking it over and over as Pearce kept fingering her from behind, pressing his fingers into her asshole. She bucked against him, needing even more contact.

  Jenna loved having Johnson’s mouth on her pussy, but she needed his cock inside her. She ran her hands over his well-muscled shoulders, scraping them with her fingernails, her knees trembling as he brought her to the edge of orgasm.

  With Johnson still sucking her clit, Pearce stood up, and she heard the zipper on his pants go down.

  The sound of him freeing his cock made her groan with desire. He pressed his hard length against her ass cheek and she wriggled against it.

  Spreading her ass cheeks with his large hands, Pearce pressed the head of his cock against her tight asshole, already well lubricated with her cream.

  “Breathe,” he murmured in her ear, and, standing behind her, slowly entered her. The feel of Pearce’s cock inside her ass as Johnson sucked her clit made her come instantly, crying out in pleasure.

  Pearce continued fucking her ass and Johnson kissed his way up her belly, swirling his tongue around her navel, bypassing her breasts entirely as he kissed her mouth.

  Now that Johnson stood Jenna made quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out and stroking it with her hands.

  He positioned himself at the entrance of her cunt and she moaned as he thrust into her, hitting her G-spot. She’d never felt so filled before in her life.

  “You’re so tight with your ass full of cock,” Johnson whispered, drawing back and thrusting hard into her pussy again, eliciting a moan of passion from her.

  She gyrated her hips, loving the feel of both cocks in her, loving the feeling of a hard muscular chest in front of her and another behind her.

  She lolled her head back and rested it on Pearce’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat as he pounded into her. He nibbled her earlobe, his wet tongue laving her neck and ear, and she nearly came just from that extra stimulation.

  Johnson grunted suddenly and pulled out of her, shooting his come in a hot jet across her belly. The sound of his orgasm must have excited the other man, because Pearce thrust harder in her ass now, grabbing her hips and pounding into her until she climaxed again, nearly falling to her knees.

  He pulled out and, turning her around so she faced him, kissed her mouth deeply. He roughly fisted his cock until his come spurted onto her belly. The two men’s come mixed together, dribbling down past her navel.

  Panting, Jenna lay down across the subway seats, staring past the two soldiers into the dark of the tracks, watching the flame of the garbage fire.

  Pearce picked up her washrag from the pail and gently wiped her belly, cleaning off the evidence of their ménage, and wiping her pussy and asshole clean of her own juices.

  She lay still, feeling more comforted by this small gesture than by anything else he would have been able to do for her. Unless he could tell her about Emily, to tell her she was all right.

  Johnson put her hard-earned cigarette to her lips. “I can go get a light from the fire out there if you want your cig now.”

  Jenna nodded, smiling. It had been too long since she’d had a cigarette. “But don’t expect me to share,” she said, laughing.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He ducked out of the subway car, straightening his clothes. When he left, Pearce sat next to her on an empty seat by her head, stroking her hair. It had gone so long without a proper shampooing that she probably looked like a homeless person, she mused.

  But then, she was homeless. Weren’t they all?

  “Thank you,” Pearce said, “for being cool about the two of us doing you.”

  “My pleasure,” she said, the unlit cigarette still dangling from her lips. “Definitely my pleasu
re.”

  Johnson came back then, shielding a tiny flame with his large hand. Carefully, he lit the cigarette in Jenna’s mouth and she inhaled deeply.

  She coughed immediately, laughing. “My virgin lungs!” she crowed. It had been way too long since she had inhaled.

  The cigarette tasted stale but she got an immediate rush of nicotine, something she hadn’t felt in ages. “We need to start growing tobacco,” she mused.

  “That’s a great idea,” Johnson said. “You should tell that to Colonel Lanche.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. She tried to stay as far away from Lanche as possible. “Hey,” she said, sitting up. “You know my roommate, the short girl with the brown hair? Emily?”

  Neither man spoke. Did they know something?

  “She hasn’t been around the past few days,” Jenna said. “I wondered if anything happened to her. If anyone knew.”

  Pearce looked at her with interest. “She’s missing?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Missing.” The word made her shiver.

  “Since when?”

  “Um, the past few days, I guess. I think. I don’t have a calendar, you know?”

  “Hey,” Johnson said to Pearce, “a few days is ago is when the ra—”

  “I know,” Pearce said sharply. “Enough.”

  The two men looked at each other. What was going on?

  “Good luck finding your friend, Jenna,” Pearce said, standing to leave. “Thanks again for the great fuck.”

  Jenna watched them leave, puffing her cigarette in the dark of the Tracks.

  * * *

  Emily awoke in Mason’s arms, lying on a blanket on the floor of the abandoned hospital. She felt safe here, protected. Like if the army came to get her, he could keep her safe. Before her time in Grand Central, she’d have had no problem standing up to the soldiers. Now that she was free, she had to find that courage again within herself.

  Too bad she’d have to go it alone. She wished she could force Mason to come with her, make him see how much better off they’d be if they could get out of the city.

  How ironic, that she snuggled in the arms of a man who’d escaped from prison, when not long ago the thought would have terrified her. It still terrified her a bit. She wanted to know what he’d been doing time for.

  No—she was better off not knowing.

  She wished she could erase the past few days from her memory. If she never met him she’d never know what she would have to leave behind.

  Emily would have to just move forward and be strong. The first time she’d tried to make it without help, the army had picked her up after only a short time. The FEMA camp, meant to be a shelter, had quickly become a prison.

  How long would it take them to find her this time, especially now that the army had a reason to come get her?

  It wouldn’t take them long. She had been a sitting target, waiting, paralyzed by her fear. She could see that now. Crossing paths with Mason had awakened in her the strength to be a nurse again, and in doing so she’d snapped out of her frightened stupor. Mason, despite needing her help when he first arrived at Roosevelt, had the skills to make it on his own. He survived an actual confrontation with the soldiers, even. He didn’t get taken, or killed.

  If only he still had his gun. When the EMP had hit, anyone who had a gun, legally or otherwise—and in New York City very few people had a legal firearm, since they were banned—had to give it up.

  Homes were searched and guns were seized as property of the United States Army, or more specifically, the band of soldiers led by Colonel Lanche.

  But when only the soldiers had guns, no one could protect themselves against them. With martial law in effect, if any man tried to use a gun for protection, that gun got confiscated.

  And more often than not, the man got shot, or beaten and left for dead, like Mason did, to save ammo.

  Without guns, people had no ability to hunt. Emily liked to imagine that somewhere in the country people had their old rifles and were hunting deer and eating comfortably through the winter… but who knew?

  There weren’t many deer in the city, that’s for sure. Either way, no hunting meant even more reliance on the military—they controlled the rations. They even guarded Central Park, the one place in the city where they grew food, so no one could get in.

  If Emily had a gun, she would have a chance at freedom, at getting away. But, no use crying over spilt milk. Mason’s gun was gone.

  He stirred, his eyes opening. Smiling, Emily looked into his blue eyes. “Good morning,” she said.

  “ ’Morning.” Mason sat up, looking around. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “I think I slept better than I have since the power went out,” she said truthfully. “I felt safe last night for the first time in over a year.”

  He nodded and pulled on a shirt. The air had a chill to it, one of those spring mornings when they’d normally still have heat on. Their fire died in the night.

  Emily knew she should go soon, but she didn’t want to leave the security of his arms. This was ridiculous, she barely knew him. He was a stranger—a dangerous stranger, at that. A criminal.

  She had to know. “Why were you in prison, Mason?”

  Mason bristled at her words. He stood up, stretching. She looked up at him, waiting.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said finally.

  “I know, you said that already. But how can I trust you if I don’t know anything about you?”

  “You probably shouldn’t trust me,” he said. “Only trust yourself. It’s the only way to make it in this world.”

  “Well, I may be independent, but I’m smart too,” she said. “Smart enough to know that I need help. I need your help.”

  Mason shook his head. “You should eat before you go. Wait here, I’ll round something up.”

  * * *

  Mason had to get away from her—away from those searching eyes and that soft brown hair. He could barely take care of himself, he couldn’t take care of her too.

  But sending her off on her own was akin to a suicide mission.

  He’d forget her soon enough, he had to. It was the only way.

  Slipping down the stairway to the kitchen, Mason looked halfheartedly for some rats, but they were all in hiding. Maybe he’d find some forgotten cans of food hidden in the bowels of the hospital kitchen. Anything would do.

  What if she got hurt? What if she ended up curled in a little ball, hiding behind a hospital bed again?

  No, that wouldn’t happen. Emily had obviously been through some sort of shock when he first found her, but something about taking care of him when he needed help shook her back to her senses. The strong woman who saved his life would never end up hiding again. Which meant she’d go off without fear of the very real dangers that surrounded them. She could get hurt, whether she knew it or not.

  Damn it. He couldn’t let her go off on her own. She’d have to stay with him, at his place.

  But what would that mean? Asking her to shack up with him would mean promising to take care of her, to provide for her. He couldn’t handle that kind of responsibility, not for a woman he barely even knew.

  That woman saved your life, he thought. Fuck. How could he not take her in?

  Her femininity also presented a problem. Why couldn’t he have found a man instead of a beautiful woman? He definitely didn’t want her to feel coerced to have sex. Especially since Emily extricated herself from a situation where, if the rumors were true, she might’ve been forced to have sex to survive in the military camp.

  The thought of her being made to prostitute herself turned his blood to fire as the anger rushed through him.

  He would not have her thinking she had to sleep with him to be safe. Mason wanted her, of course. How could he not? He was a red-blooded man. And Emily was beautiful.

  Really beautiful.

  Images of her sucking him off filled his mind and he could feel his cock twitch in his pants. Just the thought of her got him hard.

  Bu
t if she slept with him, it would be because she felt like that’s what she had to do to survive, and he couldn’t live with himself if that was the case. She had to understand that he wasn’t going to fuck her, not against her will—and not if she was only “willing” because she wanted to get him to protect her.

  He had to figure out why she’d thrown herself at him. He was glad he hadn’t slept with her last night, as much as he wanted to… wanted her.

  Remembering the way her slick pussy tasted, Mason groaned as his cock raised, rubbing against the rough fabric of his cargo pants. He wanted to taste her again.

  Maybe… if she got wet for him, maybe he could take that to mean she really did want him. Not to pay her way, so to speak, but because she desired him the way he found himself desiring her.

  He imagined running his fingers along her pussy, sticking his finger inside her cunt, discovering for himself how much she truly wanted him to fuck her.

  His erection throbbed. Shaking his head, he continued his search through the hospital kitchen. Mason flung open a back cabinet and nearly whooped with joy at his discovery—a huge can of potatoes.

  How are those still here?

  He could see some broken glass directly in front of the can, creating a small, easily overcome barrier. Apparently whoever cleaned this place out the first go-around decided it wasn’t worth the time to get the single can.

  Well, Mason had plenty of time—probably the only thing he had plenty of. He got the can of potatoes without so much as scratching himself and set back to get Emily. The thought of her face lighting up when she saw breakfast was enough to make him take the stairs double time.

  When he got back to where she stood over the rekindled fire, he had to stop and admire her beauty. She was a target, for sure. But not for the reason she thought.

  Then again, if she really had stolen something valuable, like a gun, that could be a definite asset. And, for her, a potential liability.

  She glanced up at him and he grinned. “Potatoes,” he said, holding up the can.