by E V Darcy
His dick was thick and long enough to hit all the right spots. It had been so long since she’d had sex that she knew she had to be tight; even so, she clenched around his shaft with each of his thrusts.
Their movements were slow, but each of his thrusts was deep. His hips pushed up to meet her as his hands pulled her down until skin met skin. The sensations were overwhelming and she didn’t understand—didn’t want to spare the brain power any more—why he felt so good, better than anyone else she could remember.
‘Touch yourself,’ he said, his voice tight, and she wondered if he was already close. ‘Please yourself, Paige.’
She moaned as she slipped her finger into her panties, finding her clit and stroking her finger over it, before dipping her fingertip down to feel him moving in and out of her.
‘Paige, baby, please,’ he moaned and she knew he was holding on by the skin of his teeth.
‘Take what you want, Casey,’ she whispered as her finger moved back up to circle her little bud. He groaned as he bucked up into her, his thrusts becoming shorter, sharper, snapping out of rhythm as he tried to hold on, to see to her pleasure first.
His lack of control was turning her on more; hearing his grunts and sighs heightening the experience. She wished she could see him, could see the look of wonder on his face as he peaked first, and came with a shout. His hands pulled her tight against him, and as she felt him spill into her she felt her own pleasure cumulate. Her body shook as her finger stroked her clit one last time, and she sagged against the man beneath her whose own body still trembled with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
She pressed a kiss to his chin and settled against him, feeling her body relax for the first time in what felt like forever. She knew she’d fall asleep shortly and she momentarily wondered if she’d wake up.
When he tried to withdraw his cock, she clenched once more, making him groan and shudder. ‘Just stay part of me for now,’ she whispered. ‘I just want you to be part of me…’
6
‘Let me get this straight,’ he said propping himself on his elbow. He was curled behind her as the “big spoon” after another round of lovemaking, his hand wrapped around her stomach to keep her close, so she could once again keep his now soft length inside her. She’d never been a cock warmer before, but she suddenly found she wanted him in her as much as he would allow. She had no freaking idea why.
‘He was shagging her for eight months’—she loved his British-isms—‘before he told you. And he says he only had the affair to get your attention?’
‘Apparently.’ She shrugged.
‘And the final straw for him was when he put a pair of her knickers in with your washing for you to find, but you didn’t notice and washed them anyway?’
‘Yup. He watched me fold the laundry specially to see what I’d do; when I picked them up, folded them, and put them in my drawer he went mad.’
‘Bloody hell, Paige.’ She imagined he was shaking his head as he settled back next to her.
‘Let me guess,’ she said glumly, pulling her hips away from him and letting him slide out. ‘You’re on his side.’
He was silent for a moment as he popped himself back into his jeans. When he was tucked away again, he pulled her back against him and said, ‘No, I don’t agree with him doing what he did. He should have talked to you if he was feeling neglected, not shagged your mate. So, he has the blame there.’
She could hear a but coming…
‘But’—there it was—‘I also think you share the blame in the fact that you did neglect him and your marriage.’
‘Agreed.’ And she did agree with him. She knew when Daniel had told her the reason—no matter how pathetic it was—that she had ignored him, put her career first, so she did hold some of the responsibility for their divorce. But as Casey said, the bastard should have said something instead of shagging their friend.
‘So is Hamilton your married name?’
‘No, I never took his name,’ she said with a smirk.
‘Oh, I bet that irked him.’
‘Nope,’ she said truthfully. ‘It was something we agreed on.’
‘Why? What’s his name?’ She could hear the curiosity in his voice and she almost didn’t want to tell him.
‘Turner. Daniel Turner.’
‘Turner?’ She could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. ‘So you’d have been’—and there was the light-bulb moment—‘Paige Turner! Oh my fucking God!’ he exclaimed before bursting into laughter. He buried his face into her hair as he laughed, pulling her closer to his body as it shook with his mirth.
She smiled into the darkness at his boyish chuckles, happy that she’d put another grin on his face.
‘—So she had a tattoo of Marc and Luc on her ass?’ Paige said with disbelief. ‘And you still slept with her?’
‘Well, yeah,’ he replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world. ‘I insisted on taking her from behind just so I could see what they looked like as I did the deed.’
‘Oh my God,’ she laughed and it made him smile. ‘Do they know?’
‘Marc and Luc? Yeah.’ He chuckled at the memory. ‘I even showed them the picture! They weren’t impressed.’
‘I hope you asked her first!’
‘Of course, I did. I’m telling you, fangirls can be crazy. Sometimes it’s like shooting fish in a barrel…’
‘—I was always on the top of the pyramid because of my height.’
‘Tell me you still have the uniform.’
‘Of course,’ she said with a smirk. ‘You want to see it, don’t you?’
‘Too right,’ he said into her ear with a growl, as he pushed his hips against her rear again. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever knowingly fucked a cheerleader before.’
‘Do you want to see how bendy I still am?’ She rolled over and threw her leg over his hip. ‘I can pretty much fold in half… If you’d like to try?’
He didn’t give her an answer. Instead, he flipped her onto her back, and quickly stripped her of her French knickers before doing exactly as she asked, pushing her legs towards her head and fucking her senseless.
‘Oh, fuck! Oh, Casey yes!’ she cried as his tongue circled her clit again. ‘Fuck, right there! Oh, right there!’ He smiled against her as he continued to lick her. She was on her hands and knees, facing away from him, his own cock lying hard, aching and neglected as her orgasm began to build. He loved eating her out, especially this way—she said she loved being able to reciprocate—with his hands spreading her apart so his tongue could get deep inside. He found she came a lot more forcefully in this position than when he dined on her when she was on her back.
She pushed herself back on his face as she screamed her release, chanting his name over and over as if he were some god she had to appease. He liked the idea of that, and told her so.
‘Maybe we can play that later,’ she said as she turned around and lined his cock up with her entrance. ‘I’ll play the virgin offering and you can be the golden god of fertility or something.’
‘Yes, anything,’ he agreed as she began to roll her hips. She did this amazing thing where she would— Oh, yes, just like that!
‘Perhaps the priests will tie me to an altar and then leave the room. Then you come in and do whatever you want to me, ensuring I’m well and truly ruined for any mortal man.’
He came with a groan at the idea of her bound on a table and left to his mercy.
Paige was whinging again, muttering to herself from her little corner of their space. The phone was on for the light, so she could see what she was doing, and Casey took the opportunity to take stock of their remaining supplies—three bottles of water and their last packet of biscuits.
He pouted; they weren’t even a good type of biscuit. He knew he should have saved the flapjacks. Dammit.
‘Seriously, this is so much easier for you.’
He rolled his eyes at her continuing argument that he’d refused to get drawn into since their first day. Accord
ing to the phone, it was Thursday afternoon and they were on day four of their interment. It felt a lot longer, not because of Paige’s ongoing frustration, but because they had no change of scenery, just endless moments of darkness between short bursts of light when they switched the phone on. They’d also taken to sleeping a lot more, and Casey longed for a real bed so he could get some proper sleep. However, the fact that they’d sleep for an hour here or two hours there, a few times a day, made it feel like they’d been there for weeks. And, of course, there’d been the shagging.
He smirked at the thought of their antics over their first three days together. The woman was almost as insatiable as he could be. Her husband must have been shit in the bedroom department for her to have ignored him with the libido she had.
‘Please, let me have one of the bottles,’ his companion whined. ‘I just want to wash my hands this one last time.’
‘Paige, there are only three bottles left.’
‘But—’
‘No, Paige!’ He didn’t like to raise his voice, but he’d given her one bottle for such use two days earlier, thinking that they’d either be dead or rescued by now. He rubbed his own dirty hands over his face. He’d stopped washing them at some point the day before and Paige hadn’t let him touch her intimately ever since. He’d pouted a little, but he understood. However, it was a crying shame; it had been a good way to pass the first few days. But, truth be told, he didn’t have the energy to really give it a go again; he was far too hungry to be able to even focus enough for a hard-on.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, slinking back towards him from the corner. ‘I just feel a little more… human when I can wash my hands afterwards.’
He got that, he really did. After all, he could stick his knob in the bottle, but she had to try and aim it. He didn’t actually get piss down his hands, but she did.
‘No, I’m sorry for shouting,’ he said, as she sat beside him. ‘Here’—he passed her the last of his opened bottle of water. There was only about a fifth left, but if it made her more comfortable, he could forego it.
‘I can’t—’
‘Please,’ he insisted and gently took her hand in his, pouring a small amount of the water into the cup of her palm then letting her rub them together. As she did, he poured a little more over her fingers, before she opened them again to take the last tiny bit to rinse them.
He reached for the phone to switch it back off, when Paige’s wet hand on his wrist stopped him. He glanced down at her fingertips. Tiny drops of water highlighted the dust and grime embedded in the lines of her nails; her skin was dry and a couple of blood spots decorated the back of her hand where the skin had cracked. He glanced at his own and found his no better.
He turned his gaze to hers, taking the chance to take in her face for what might be the final time. Her golden-red mane was lank and limp, the curls a tangled nest rather than the gorgeous twirls she’d had that first day. Her green eyes had become dull, bloodshot and tired. She had dust and dirt all over her cheeks and forehead. Her lips were almost as bad as her hands. He wondered how he looked.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything.’
He nodded his head slowly as he turned back to look at the phone.
‘Let’s take a picture.’ He surprised even himself with the words.
‘What?’
‘We’ll take pictures of… all this’—he waved his hand around the room—‘so people know what we went through. When they find us if we’re… you know, then they’ll know that at least we were friends, that we didn’t give up, we fought for as long as we could.’
She looked at the phone and then back to him before a wide smile broke over her lips. She winced slightly as it pulled at the dry skin there, but the sparkle of delight reached her eyes.
‘Okay. But we have to label them too. Explain what we saw and did.’
She moved towards their toilet area, where the bottles of their piss—the empties from their drinking water—stood waiting for when they ran out of fresh water and they had no other choice. Neither was looking forward to that day.
He laughed as she picked up two of the containers and held them up with a smile. He took the shot and passed it over to her when she scuttled back so he could pose with their remaining water bottles and the single packet of bland biscuits.
They took pictures of the aspects of their view, one of Casey pretending to be holding up the table and everything above them with only his feet. There was one of Paige pretending to be Gollum with the water. Finally, they settled down with their backs against the wall, posing with cheesy smiles, heads bent towards one another for their selfie.
‘Wait,’ Paige said as he went to close the camera app. ‘One more.’
She turned to him, her hand reaching up and gently guided his head towards hers, taking his lips in a gentle kiss. It was the softest press, all either of them could manage, but it lifted his spirits, made his back and shoulders straighten. He’d never felt more of a man around anyone than he did around this tiny, fiery woman.
His finger pressed the button and took their picture.
7
Scratch-scratch-scrape.
‘What the hell was that?’ Paige asked in blind panic, as the noise—one that sounded like nails on a blackboard—jarred them from their sleep. Casey felt her sit up next to him but didn’t respond. Hell, he barely breathed as his ears strained to try and hear the noise that had made his heart leap into his throat.
The silence was overwhelming.
Just what the fuck had that been? It sounded like chunks of the debris shifting against one another.
He wrapped his arm around Paige at the thought and pulling her close. She moved without protest and the pair leaned back against the wall, eyes staring up into the darkness as they wondered if their luck had come to an end.
Over the five days they’d been trapped, they had become accustomed to the noises that had, at first, scared them. They’d found comfort in their constant presence; the little tap-tap-tap of tiny stones through gaps and crevices in the wreckage meant they had air to breathe. The creaks of the table reassured them that it was still doing it’s unbelievable job of protecting the pair, by holding up the tremendous weight of the hotel that buried them. And the drip-drip-drop of water still frustrated them, as they hadn’t yet managed to figure out where the hell it was coming from and it would be useful to have some water very, very soon.
Neither Casey nor Paige had been able to go back to sleep for fear they’d never wake up again. They hadn’t spoken in what felt like hours, after they’d started snapping at each other as the knowledge of their impending death stretched their limits thin.
Casey was rather glad his stomach was empty; with it twisted and knotted as much as it was, he was sure he’d have thrown up anything in it. Every sound—even their regular ones—set his nerves on edge. He wanted to claw at his skin, pull at his hair as he waited for everything to literally come crashing down.
They’d been wrapped in a little cocoon, each day in the darkness becoming their new norm until they had merely accepted that this was now their existence. But now…
Now they’d had a wake up call, a sign of how complacent they’d become, how detached from the threat of danger that literally loomed overhead…
The horrid scraping noise that made Paige’s skin crawl kept coming and going; it was completely intermittent, with no distinguishable pattern. Casey had been trying to time the lulls between each instance, but only managed it a couple of times before the phone’s battery had finally died, and she’d her temper with him, screaming and wailing like a banshee for absolutely no real reason—it wasn’t as if the phone really did anything except shine a light that reminding them of where they were.
They’d stopped talking after that, especially as Paige had to begrudgingly admit—even if only to herself—that his idea of timing the noises had been a good one.
‘There it is again,’ Paige whispered, finally breaking their self-impos
ed silence.
‘I’d rather the whole thing collapsed and squished me, than just be sitting here like this, wondering, waiting,’ he said, his own voice hushed. Paige completely agreed. She crawled onto his lap and sighed at the sense of home as he wrapped her tightly in his arms. If this was how she was to go, at least she had him here, holding her. She wouldn’t die alone.
They had pinpointed the noise to the space above the rock fall side of the table. It echoed down the cavernous opening they’d spied through the small crack in the debris. Waiting for the noise, sitting for what felt like hours on end, wincing with each spine-shuddering scratch, they had discovered one thing; it was getting louder and louder with each occurrence, almost as if whatever was making the horrid sound was getting closer, creeping upon them ready to—
Paige shuddered, feeling the scraping and screaming of stone upon stone down her spine. That had definitely been the loudest so far, as if it were right above their heads. It was followed almost immediately—the quickest repeat of the noise yet—by another grating sound that caused the tippity-tap sounds of the tiny stones that constantly bounced between levels, to become a rainfall as they showered from above.
They felt the rush of dust whooshing over them, decorating them with more filth. They descended into a coughing fit as the air became too thick to breathe. Paige pulled her dress up over her nose and mouth, before burrowing into Casey’s chest. She felt his nose rub against the nest her hair had become, whispering that it was okay, that it was all going to be okay, over and over between coughing fits.
Whatever it was that had initially stopped them becoming jam, that had been struggling, fighting for them to stay alive, was finally losing the battle.
This was how he was going to go, Casey realised. He’d thought it before, but it was finally hitting home now he knew the time had truly come. He’d always hoped his death would be something spectacular, his favourite idea being a heart attack at the age of eighty-five, brought on by participating in a hot orgy of supple twenty-somethings.