Hayden tried to move his hand lower, to feel the weight of her breast in his palm, but the straps were too tight, and his hand wouldn’t move. A thread of panic ignited his nerves, and he tugged. She moaned again, reached up to pull the straps from her other breast and pinch her own nipple, wiggling with satisfaction. His cock responded, the sudden flow of blood making him impossibly hard.
She dropped her hand and reached for his belt, her fingers working quickly to undo the buckle, the snap, and zipper. His cock jutted straight out, ready to thrust into her pussy despite the confusion and anxiety swirling through him. He tugged at his hand again, and it finally came free. But he was still held captive by her legs. With strong, sharp motions, she yanked him closer, tightening the grip around his waist as she lifted her skirt.
The black fishnet stockings ended near the juncture of her thighs, just as he’d imagined and she was, in fact, without panties.
The dark wood of the table contrasted with her light skin, and the smooth lips of her pussy were slick and ready. The possibility of trouble was still there, but this other possibility—doing something crazy—was the one he was paying attention to. His dick was so hard he could drive into her with one thrust, he was sure of it.
Hayden grabbed her thighs, spread her legs and swung her forward, angling her so her hot sheath opened completely. He inched closer, so the tip of his penis touched her wet skin.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Fuck me.”
He drove in, filling her just like he knew he would, and groaned. The tight walls of her core gripped him, squeezing his shaft, making it harder, bigger. She grabbed his shoulders and rocked against him, gliding her pussy up and down his cock, taking control.
Hayden bent lower, reaching for her free breast with his tongue, wanting to feel it inside his mouth. He found the nipple, but the mound was too full and her motions too frenzied, so he had to settle for licking the tip.
She grunted in response, her hips jerking as she rocked against him, taking his entire shaft inside her and pushing against his balls with each forward swing. His sac heated, his whole body tingled with fire. His cock was deep inside her, wrapped in her cunt, but the connection wasn’t enough. He lifted his mouth from her breast, seeking her lips. Just as he brushed his mouth against hers, she stiffened and groaned.
He pressed his mouth against her cool, wet lips. She sucked in a breath of sharp surprise, tried to kiss him back, but the spirals of release took possession of her body. She thrashed against him, forcing his hard cock deep inside her as her breathing turned into a series of short pants. Hayden pressed a kiss across her open lips, then let himself go, falling into his own explosive bliss. Tight piercing pleasure coiled through him as his own orgasm hit, hard and fast.
They clung to each other, their bodies recovering from the shared explosion.
“Thanks,” she said, after a pause, looking up at him from under her tangled locks. “I really needed that.” She started putting her clothes back together, adjusting the straps to cover her breasts.
Hayden laughed lightly as he gently pulled up his briefs and pants, trying not to brush against his cock, which was still slightly erect. “You don’t need to say thanks. I wanted it.”
“Hey! Anyone in here?”
Shit. The security guard. Still zipping his pants, Hayden called out hello as he jogged through the darkness.
“You’re still in here, in the dark?” the guard looked past Hayden’s shoulder. “Everything okay?”
Hayden stepped closer, blocking his view. “I’m fine, just packing up, about to head home.”
The guard ran his flashlight beam around the room, but the small ray didn’t do much to light up the huge space. “Snow’s not letting up, just so you know.”
Trying to look casual, not like a guy who’d just had frantic sex, Hayden shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched his shoulders. “Good to know.”
“Stay safe, man.”
“Right. Thanks.” Hayden spun around and headed back. She was gone. Probably climbed back out the window. Or climbed out of his freshly ignited imagination.
Hayden tapped his computer. The message to Bob Keeler popped up. He added a quick note about writing something about hot zombie sex rituals, attached the video of the library, and hit send. With a heavy thump, he dropped into the stiff chair and reached for the files. In a minute, he’d get everything pulled together and get going. That fresh stuff wasn’t going to appear out of nowhere.
* * *
The vibrating of his phone woke Hayden, and still half-asleep, he dug it out of his pocket and answered, his eyes still closed.
“Hayden. You are a genius.”
Struggling against a serious kink in his back, Hayden worked his way into a sitting position. “Thanks, Bob,” he said, even though he had no idea what the man was all worked up about.
“The film tie-in idea is awesome. Perfect. That attachment, good grief. Why didn’t you tell me you were a Photoshop wiz?”
Starting to actually wake up, Hayden looked around. The library? He’d fallen asleep at the table when he was supposed to be reading those damn zombie books. Shit. Hazy images of a wet girl with tangled hair and torn tights flashed in his mind. A smell. Mind-blowing sex. Holy shit. What a dream.
“Good thing Rachelle is the wild type. Most girls wouldn’t want pictures of their guy screwing some other girl, even a zombie, posted all over the net.”
Hayden snapped awake. “Posted?”
“Absolutely.” Bob chuckled, then lowered his voice. “That sex video was hot, Hayden, but a bit over the top. Even for us. So Chuck cut it into stills, and our hit counter is already popping.”
Sex video?
“Popping?” Hayden said, starting to sweat. He grabbed his laptop and typed in the newspaper’s link. The home page was filled with a woman’s dark silhouette, the pale skin of one of her big breasts peeking between the red wraps, the other was blacked out with a solid square. Her wet, matted hair was tangled around her shoulders, her eyes were unmistakably glowing green, and the man positioned between her legs was obviously him.
A neon blue banner ran through the middle of the page: Zombie sex ritual uncovered! Everyday men seduced by the undead!
“A bonus check is already in your mail box, Hayden. You really came through for me, kid. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” Hayden clicked off, but didn’t set his phone down. Even though they’d only been together a short while, Rachelle should hear about the pictures from him.
He hit her number and settled back to wait, but she answered right away.
“What the hell, Hayden?”
“You already know, huh,” he replied, hitting the link to move away from the home page.
“Yes. And I am pissed.”
The next page was another shot of him and the girl, her white fingers curled over her own breast while his hand was obviously trapped in the red straps. “How did you find out?”
“Bob.”
“Bob?” Thanks Bob, for adding to my list of failed relationships.
“Yeah, he wanted to make sure it was okay with me before he put the pictures up.”
Hayden scrolled down, the next picture showed Mattie’s thigh, half-covered by the tattered fishnets, tightly wrapped around his hips. The tiny skirt covered up his cock, thrusting in and out of her. “And it’s okay with you?” he said, his voice nearly squeaking.
“Yes. But I’m still pissed.”
He scrolled down again. It was shot of Mattie’s face, her smudgy, glowing eyes staring straight at the screen. A chill ran down his spine. Straight to his dick, which was getting hard again. “It’s just that, I—”
“I’ve been after you to do something crazy and you had this kinky side all along. I’m pissed you kept it a secret.” She sighed, impatient and annoyed. “Why Hayden? Don’t you get that I want you for who you are, not because I’m waiting around for you to make stacks of money.”
Hayden X’ed out of the website. “Oh.”
/> “I’m coming over to your apartment, tonight. I’ll be wearing—oh no, I’m not telling. It’s going to be a surprise. A hot, sexy surprise. And you better be ready to fuck me senseless. That’s the only way I’m going to forgive you for keeping secrets.”
Another turn in a night that didn’t make sense. But Hayden was done being cautious and careful. He scrambled to his feet and adjusted his khakis, but there was no hiding his solid erection. He stashed his laptop into his backpack and started walking, leaving the zombie books on the table.
“Don’t make me wait,” she snapped, then clicked off.
Hayden charged into the snowy night and didn’t look back.
Chapter Two
“Don’t make me wait.”
Hayden burst out of the library and charged face-first into the storm. A nasty blast of wind whipped past, filling his nose with giant flakes and blinding him. He slipped on his gloves to wipe his eyes, then hitched up his backpack and tightened the front strap. After wrapping his itchy black wool scarf tightly around his neck, Hayden took the first careful step. Thick, wet snow sagged until his boot finally hit the concrete. Three slow, leaping strides later, he reached the landing of the low steps that led to Dartmouth Street, snow-covered and silent. Not a single living person was out on the streets.
Once he got back to his borrowed apartment, he planned to stay put and wait the storm out too. Apparently, he was going to be at Rachelle’s mercy the whole time. At first he’d been anxious about hooking up with a neighbor, but now he was really beginning to see the advantage to having her in the brownstone right next door. A hot flush washed over him, chasing away a sliver of the monstrous chill following him down the hushed street. He kept moving, closer to Rachelle and farther away from that unbelievable scene. Sex, video, and a lie more believable than the truth.
The drifts of dense, untouched snow made walking difficult, and the cold air was beginning to pierce his lungs, making each breath a whisper of pain, but he moved on, slowly, steadily—determined and clinging to Rachelle’s demand.
Be ready to fuck me senseless.
He was ready. He just had to get there first.
An unnatural mixture of light came from buildings, the moon and the eerie brightness of the unrelenting storm. The historic Old South Church was behind him on his right, stoic and solid. The garish light of a 7-Eleven blinked up ahead on the left, red, green and promising 24-hour access to Slurpees, cigarettes and bullshit junk food. Even in the blizzard the contrast was jarring.
On the backside of the Old South Church, an open window smacked against the stone exterior of the wide building. Weak light shone from within. Wind howled up Dartmouth Street, cold, biting bursts of snow-filled air, bitter like the ice of the Charles River about ten blocks away. The window snapped shut with a crack, then burst open again. Inside the church, the light faded.
Hayden winced, forcing his gaze away from the church and his legs farther into Boston’s Back Bay. Of course there was nothing to see in that window—no girl with dark eyes, smudged with black eyeliner, and D-size breasts wrapped in strips of red wool. Crazy thing was, if he told someone he’d done some random girl at the library—right there on one of the sturdy oak tables, they’d probably be jealous. Or at least smack him a high five. Hell, the whole thing fit together like a fantasy from an old sci-fi pulp paperback. But now that he was away from the girl, he felt anything but fantastic. Whatever sexual spell she’d cast over him had faded, and he was reconsidering his state of mind.
And, he realized, reconsidering the girl.
Her scent.
Her physical strength.
Her power over him.
Unable to stop himself, he glanced back, searching through the whipping snow, scanning the wall of the church, tracing the points of the Gothic arches until he spotted the window. It was still open, still swinging slightly, and still empty.
Thank God.
Clutching the straps of his backpack, he trudged on, concentrating on maintaining a smooth, steady rhythm. The few blocks to Commonwealth Avenue went quickly enough, and once he spotted the rows of lighted trees lining the boulevard, the tension in his spine eased, and the lingering anxiety lifted. Even muted by the heavy snow, the tiny white holiday lights brightened the fierceness of the weather, making it almost postcard pretty, instead of what it actually was—a monster of a storm that had choked the life out of the entire city.
Hayden lifted his scarf to cover his mouth and pull in a warm breath. The air filled his chilled lungs. Relax. He had a hot girl waiting for him and, thanks to an accidental video, a bonus check on the way. Life—or at least that night—was damn near perfect.
That was his last thought before spotting a familiar pair of heavy black boots peeking out from beside the snow-heaped bushes lining the front of his brownstone. He didn’t need to run his gaze up the long, lean legs covered in tattered fishnets and see that nearly pointless miniskirt to know it was her sitting on the steps.
The solid, booted feet swung in, disappearing. The air in Hayden’s lungs went cold and came out in a raw rush. Wind howled behind him, pushing him forward, propelling him. Same as when they’d been together in the library, her face was plain, her gaze scanning the area around them in quick sharp sweeps. But this time she wasn’t looking for just anyone. She was waiting for him. And all traces of sweetness were gone.
“You thinking about paying those bills?” she asked, pointing to his backpack as she swung forward, her boots sliding easily into the deep drifts beside the bush. “It’s going to suck if they shut off your wireless.”
Hayden shoved his scarf below his chin. “It’s rude to go through other people’s shit.”
She set her hands on her hips and arched her back, forcing her incredible breasts into his line of vision. “How else was I going to figure out where to find you?”
“Why did you need to find me at all?” he asked, trying to circle her, to get away from her and the wrongness that was now seeping into the night. Two steps and already he felt the sensation of the smell settling deep in his mouth, seeping across his molars. His mouth opened.
She watched his lips part as she moved with him, gliding, matching his movement as though she anticipated each step.
“Is it about the pictures? The ones posted on the Weekly’s site?” he asked.
She kept moving with him, her brown eyes taking on the green sheen he’d thought he’d imagined in the library. “Yeah, it was the pictures,” she murmured, “but not how you think.” She tucked her fingers under of the strips of wet wool circling her torso and tugged. Bare white skin peeked between the wraps as she shimmied to adjust them. Not that her changes did any good. The full curves of her breasts and the tight peaks of her nipples were still totally obvious. Then again, maybe that was her point.
Hayden ground his teeth, trying to crush the sensation in his jaw, but couldn’t pull his gaze away from her glistening, exposed body. Tiny icicles clung to the tangles of her hair and flakes of snow dotted her thighs, bare above the edge of the tights. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his mind from acknowledging the blood flowing to his cock. “The guy I work for thinks they’re a great tie-in to the zombie stuff—my piece, the comic convention and the opening of Zombie Rites. And all that stuff about zombies—”
“Roaming the streets?” she cut in, grinning as she dropped her hand to smack snow off her limp skirt. Once she got the clumps off, she ran her fingers across the hem, inching it up her bare thighs.
Holy fuck, he was starting to remember what it felt like to be inside her. Driving into her tight core, pounding until he couldn’t think straight.
Hayden glanced at the apartment. Rachelle was not peering out the window, watching for him. Thank God. He shifted back. Most girls would probably get pretty pissed at a guy who took a video of himself grinding his dick into her, but this girl seemed anything but pissed. Hayden found himself watching the flicker of her stubby black fingernails as she inched up the hem of her skirt. He knew she wa
sn’t wearing panties. Five inches was all it would take and her bare pussy—
He took a sharp step forward, ready to shove her out of the way if necessary. She grabbed his arm and jerked him close enough for her nipples to brush against him.
“My girlfriend is waiting for me,” he said, pointing to the third story of the brownstone.
Mattie tossed back her mass of hair, exposing a small black device tucked into her ear. “I know. ‘Don’t make me wait.’ Isn’t that what she said?” A cruel smile tugged on the corner of her full mouth as she took in his expression. “You don’t understand yet, do you? Let me explain. You belong to me now. Until I’m done with you, that is.” She forced one of her legs between his thighs and lifted until her knee pressed into his solid cock. “I’m liking you more and more, so we may be together a while.”
Hayden jerked his arms free and reached for her pale throat. The skin beneath his palms was wet, slick, smooth. And cold, lifeless.
“Go up there and fuck your girlfriend,” she said, then shoved him away and moved toward the wall of the row house. She propped her booted foot on the cornerstone and lifted herself. She slithered up; her hands clutching the frost-covered bricks, then paused about ten feet from the ground. “And make it hot. Because I’ll be watching.” And with that, she crept up to the third-floor window and nestled under the eave.
* * *
Still feeling the soul-stealing gaze of Mattie’s cold, hungry eyes, Hayden jogged up the snow-covered steps. After kicking the heavy, white heap away from the door, he pulled it open and stumbled inside. A gust of icy air and cloud of flakes followed him in, blasting his face and sending a sharp chill down his neck. Once the door was closed tight, he paused, looking through the beveled glass, searching through the blizzard-filled night. Of course she wasn’t there where he could see her.
Servant of the Undead Page 2