by Rose Francis
She flushed a bit, her heart palpitating. “Really?” she asked, hope eeking into her voice. It was obvious she had a passion. “I like a lot of things”—she paused, scrutinizing him—“mostly... Romance stuff. Stuff about people.” She bit her lower lip, drawing it into her mouth and sucking on it for a moment before letting it pop out.
“And... Fiona. I’m Fiona,” she rephrased her answer.
The large mountain of a man gave a pleasant smile and nodded. “I like those too, Fiona,” he confessed, also truthfully, though he’d have lied for this beauty. “Keeps me warm on all the lonely time at my place. Imaginin’ big romantic scenarios of takin’ on everything the world has to offer as a pair. Always did it for me, especially now,” he said, his deep voice honeyed and warm, some longing there.
Her eyes went soft and her shoulders slumped with that strange mixture of desire and sorrow as she nodded her agreement. Her head stooped a little, looking down at the simple fabric of her short dress. “Ain’t fair all this stuff happened,” she pouted.
Her lower lip protruded slightly as her eyes blinked away tears. Oh, she was too easy to read. Her heart was on her sleeve, without a doubt.
Seeing her pout and grow grim like that, he got up and moved over toward her. He was an intimidating man, but he had a way of radiating warmth and protectiveness, rather than danger. Well, to women anyhow.
Moving to sit beside her, he reached out with a large hand to touch her shoulder blade upon her back. Normally he had no time for such moping about the lost past, but for her? “Musta been rough for you. Only havin’ your brother now...” It didn’t need to be said. Everyone had lost family. To have any family made her one of the luckiest ones alive, to tell the truth. “It just ain’t enough,” he said soothingly in that deep, husky voice of his.
She nodded her agreement, letting out a wistful sigh. “I had to leave my stuff. All I have now is the stuff the new people can give me. Probably going to get killed for ruining their books now.” She looked up at him, her big eyes so easily read. “I... I gotta finish fishing but... when you gotta be there by?” she asked curiously.
He rubbed her back gently. It was a subtle thing at first, but he had a way with his hands and women, and he massaged her pleasantly. “I go where I want when I want,” he said with a smile that was full of bravado and confidence, but still had that tinge of sympathy and comfort for her. “Perks of bein’ an independent man, Fiona.”
Her pulse quickened and she looked away from his gorgeous face, toward the water. Her breathing hitched before she forced the words out. “Will you stay ’til I get some more fish then go back with me?”
That invitation was music to his ears, and at it, he pushed that arm around her, resting it lightly at her side, above her hip, the other coming over to massage her shoulder. “Of course. Now that we’ve met, I wouldn’t stand to let you be out here, and wanderin’ back all by yourself. Ain’t nothing safe anymore, Fiona,” he said in a way that was more reassuring than troubling, his voice holding such masculine confidence and security.
Her skin perked up with his more enthusiastic touch, and she felt something clench between her thighs. She had managed to do a decent job hiding it until that point, but the little quirked smile and the alternating tension and release in her body quickly gave her away as she shifted closer to him, her hands shaking as she reached for the pole.
“It shouldn’t take long,” she murmured.
With a big, friendly smile, his arms about her, gently caressing and rubbing he too had felt a stirring in his loins, though he kept it out of his thoughts. He had to focus. Leaning so close to her, his fingers brushed along her hair, and he could smell her. “Don’t worry about time,” he said huskily, “I enjoy just spendin’ time with you.” And that was true.
“I don’t get opportunities to just... sit with someone very often. Certainly not like this,” he said, his hand holding her a bit more firmly. “Though I think on it often.”
Even though his words might be construed as false by someone more worldly, she ate it up, her heart leaping with excitement. Her hands trembled as she threaded the line, throwing it back in the water. She moved nearer to him, soft, pleasant sighs escaping her pink lips as his hands worked over her.
She craved him.
Her cheeks flushed at her inner thoughts, and she tried to push them away. Her thighs clamped shut again.
His hand rubbed along her bare shoulder, feeling that smooth skin of hers. Damn, he was nearly lost in that feel alone. It was nearly enough to make him lose control then and there, but he managed to keep his lusts in check.
Slowly he rubbed down from her shoulder to her arm. “You’re real good at this,” he said softly, “bein’ able to catch such a big one in this lil’ ol’ pond. Gotta confess, fishin’ ain’t one of my strong suits,” he chuckled lightly and his hand found her thigh. That large, powerful grasp of his gently stroking.
She nearly lost her grip on the fishing pole as her eyes fluttered back in her head, the sensation utterly divine. She choked back her moan, struggling to regain awareness of her surroundings, tightening her grip on the pole. His dark hand on her pale skin excited her further, and she studied it thoughtfully before she yanked the line out of the water, a large fish attached to it which she skilfully released in the bucket.
Seeing yet another big one on the end of her line he gave a surprised whistle. “Damn. I wanted to flatter you, but you are good.” His hands never left her though, he, too, admiring the dark cocoa of his work-hardened hands upon her smooth, pale flesh.
His large fingers pried a little at the valley between her thighs. “It’d be somethin’,” he muttered softly, as if to himself, “havin’ a woman like you around.” And he leaned in so close that his lips were nearly touching her ear, his breath a pleasant, warm wash on her skin.
Was it possible for her heart to stop and quicken all at once? The myriad of pleasant sensations: his breath, his scent, his flesh. Her breathing caught in her throat as her lips parted, exposing those straight teeth. She trembled, and her thighs tightened before releasing around him, her eyes rolling up slightly.
That little gesture made way for his hungry hand, and he delved between, stroking over the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Though noto leave it at that, his lips moved on down and he kissed beneath her earlobe so that his nose brushed against her. He kissed again softly, his lips big and soft against her pale skin, and he muttered in a low, pleasant husk, “You’re beautiful.”
She gasped, her eyes closing as she shimmied closer to him, letting the fishing pole slump into the dirt. Her knees fell away further, and her entire skin seemed to burn with desire. She wanted him. Oh yes, she did.
Her palm lay atop his, stroking him gingerly before she whimpered, “I can’t get pregnant.” She paused, her eyes finding his. “You can’t finish in me.”
Those words confirmed that she’d accept him, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. He was a strong bull of a man, and he wanted her, wanted to claim her. Fully and completely.
Squeezing her thigh and hip firmly, warmly, he kissed her neck again, then her earlobe, suckling it briefly. “Even if I did,” he began in his low, masculine voice, “I’d take ya back to my stead and take care of you there, forever more.” His fingers trailed up between her thighs until they felt the soft cotton of her panties, his dark eyes meeting hers, strength and certainty in his gaze, but with a certain tenderness to his desire.
She gasped a bit, the risky thought still holding some taboo appeal to her. Childbirth was dangerous, one of the most certain dangers in a woman’s life in this new, destroyed world. And yet his words caused her to squirm and moan, trying to fight the desire.
Her legs went lax, and she leaned into him, her eyes catching his for a moment before they moved away, suddenly shy.
His thick, dark finger stroked over that pure, white cotton, tracing along the outline of her slit. He stoked her fires in an expert manner, his nose nuzzling
here and there as he kissed her neck, her cheek, her ear.
That other hand of his crept up from her thigh, to slide beneath her top and feel out her flesh, groping for her breast. He was straining within his pants, nearly bursting out with his excitement. It’d been so long since he’d lain with a woman, but then a day was too long by his old measure, and his lips and hands grew more excited as his passion built.
She hadn’t managed to salvage a bra since her last one tore, and she was bare beneath the soft cotton of her dress. So deliciously bare.
Her nipples were already hard, aching for his touch, and her back arched just so to encourage him. Her head tilted back, exposing her throat as she moaned, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself as quiet as possible. It wouldn’t do to have a bandit come across them. Not like this.
She murmured his name softly, the sound so erotic to his ears; the purity of her voice and the longing it contained as her clit throbbed under his fingers.
The delight of finding her breast bare was immense. He cupped it and squeezed, gently kneaded its supple flesh. She was an angel in the wastes, and he clung to her, pressed his hands against her harder in case she turned out to be a mirage.
Before he could do more, his lips found hers. He kissed her, head tilted to the side, deeply implanting his tongue in her mouth. All the while his fingers deftly lifted the fabric of her panties, pulling them aside so that he might stoke her fires directly, feel those delicate petals on his bare fingers. His cock responded, throbbing and straining against his pants, which could not afford it enough space in its swelling.
She was oblivious to all else as she felt the shock of his body touching hers, and she moaned into his mouth, her tongue lashing against his, sucking his lower lip and biting it teasingly. She was already so wet, so ready for the near stranger. The book at her side had likely started her off in the right strain for him, but his deep voice and his eager hands were really toppling her over the edge.
Her hands found his arm, then down his side, resting on his thigh. Her thumb pressed into the sensitive inner flesh, and then her fingers shifted toward his pelvis, down along the inner seam of his body, so teasingly close and distant all at once.
That set him off, a deep groan that reverberated up from his broad chest and nearly hummed into her mouth. He was a massive man compared to her, and it only became all the more apparent as their bodies intertwined. He eclipsed her with his size, and the old, thick military-style cargo pants he wore could not hide the nearly frighteningly large shaft he bore beneath.
With powerful arms, he lifted, shifted, and began to lower her back to the ground. He was eager, but he was a powerful, in-control man, of himself and her, and he was going to set her body out before him like a platter to be enjoyed.
She was so light and delicate, even with her toned legs and arms, and she was only too willing for him. Her eyes were partially lidded as they dropped over his impressive body, her pulse quickening and causing her to feel so warm.
Her hands reached to the strings along her back, tugging out the bow and desperately trying to free herself of the material.
Seeing her do that, he rose up onto his knees, towering over her. He watched her undress in his shadow as he shrugged off his own heavy trench coat, then, with a few deft flicks of his straps, shed the material of his heavy vest beneath. “However it goes,” he began in his voice that emanated such a commanding, authoritative presence, “know I’d take care of you, so you’d never need worry again.” His turtleneck sweater came off next, and its removal unveiled a series of chiselled muscles, peppered with scars, but absolutely gorgeous in their sheer masculinity.
Unbuckling his belt, he continued, “I’d scav the best medicines in the waste for you.” It came undone, the bulge of his boxer briefs beneath, gray and straining against his size. “And see nothin’ bad come to you.” And when he lowered them, the broad ebon shaft that came into view could only be described as massive, wanting. Of her. The crown of it bejeweled with a gold ring that pierced his member.
She tossed the dress on top of her book, leaving herself so nearly bare. All that was still hidden was underneath those panties, her wetness leaving a discolouration between her slick petals. She was athletic, far more athletic than she seemed in her outfit. Smooth skin and taut muscles were present throughout her form, yet her breasts were glorious. Just smaller than his large palms, her nipples were erect, begging to be bit. They were a perfect shape, still so perky and firm.
Her eyes dropped over his body, and she crooned at the sight of his member. Eyes widening, she couldn’t help but move closer, her hand reaching out to touch him.
In the time before the fall, Leon would’ve been an Adonis amongst men. Though these days it most often lay hidden beneath layers of protective clothing. His muscular, broad physique was glorious. Her hand reaching out and touching that member looked so tiny, so dainty in comparison. It felt so heavy against her palm as she went to touch and lift it.
With that, though, he was done waiting, and he descended upon her. His mouth moving to those breasts, needing to bite and sup upon them as they seemed to silently beg for him to do. His broad back arched, and he squeezed and massaged one mound of breast flesh, his mouth devouring the other, giving a light groan as he brought himself down upon her carefully, positioning himself near her quim.
She was so easily manipulated by him, her body moving to his tempo as though involved in a dance without music. With every reach of his body, hers closed the distance. She was a fair bit younger than him, but that didn’t matter after the fall, and regardless... he was gorgeous. Her entire body excited at the fact, her muscles clenching in desire as she craved him to push her harder and harder into oblivion.
His free hand moved down as he continued to work her two breasts. With his strong grasp he tugged her panties to the side, for there was no time for anything more in the face of his lusts. The bulbous tip of his broad crown prodding her wet cunny lips, its size so enormous it made the penetration about to occur seem like it could be nothing but uncomfortable for the younger woman.
Leon’s dark form descended about her, his tongue flicking her nipple between sucklings, and his muscles tensing with desire. He took his time so as not to hurt the girl, but when he pushed up into her, that dark ebon shaft pierced her pinkened cunny so deliciously he groaned aloud.
It was made easier by the fact that she certainly wasn’t a virgin, and there was no barrier or resistance. Aided by her physical arousal, the pain seemed to be only pleasurable to the woman as her body lay back, her spine arching her breasts into the air, her groan louder than was wise.
She was caught up in the sensations, her smooth legs and dirty feet wrapping around his body as her pink pussy stretched over the massive, piercing cock.
His mouth finally broke its seal about her breast, as he groaned with her into the outdoor air. He sank his length into her, though nowhere near all of it would fit. The ring that capped his crown pressing against her inner most depths before he tugged back and pushed again, beginning to plough the sweet young woman full of his dick.
With hands upon her breast and hip, he held her in place as he began to fuck her, his powerful body all ripped, the muscles shifting as he moved, his heavy sac lightly slapping against her flesh with each push in. Gods damn, she was tight and tasty, it’d been so long, and he wanted this so bad.
Her body ached for him, her blood brightening her mons, the hair trimmed so short against her pale flesh as she pulsed around him. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her throat went dry from her heavy breathing. As he pressed in faster, though, she couldn’t help but cry out, nearly drowning out the sound of footsteps. They were heavy and certainly not rushing, but they were still so distant.
Through the noise of her cries he heard it. A shock went through his spine and he bent over her, his hand covered her mouth as he peered about. Though through his caution he never ceased his motions entirely, continued to pump his hips as his body reacted of its ow
n accord, so that her stretched pussy continued to take his shaft. He didn’t want to stop, but he murmured softly in her ear, “Footsteps.”
He reached for her gun with his free hand, as it was closest.
It startled her and she sucked in a breath through his hand, holding it and trying to keep from moaning, but his continued thrusting did little to help her. She bit down on her lower lip beneath his hand, her eyes searching the tree line.
There was little by way of cover but for the trees, and she somewhat struggled underneath him, finding that his weight pinning her down in such a frightening situation caused her blood to quicken and her cunny to clasp him tightly.
Something about this was thrilling her, even as she tried to resist it. Even as she heard the footsteps draw nearer.
He should’ve been focussed on whoever was approaching. He should’ve been up and out of her immediately, gun aimed, but this beauty beneath him—around him—kept his mind addled, and the clench of her pussy about him was too much. His world went a bit hazy for a moment as he came, his large cock pouring its thick seed into her with wild, spasming throbs. The torrent of his virile seed buried deep inside her.
With that, he pulled out of her and took her gun to the ready, trying to pinpoint the source of the footsteps and aim, still barely dressed.
A rush of emotions filled her as he left: confusion, fear, and an overbearing sense of loneliness. She felt the wetness slide from her, and immediately she touched herself, her hand coming away covered in his cum. “Fuck!” she cursed under her breath, anger blazing in her eyes as she reached for her dress, covering herself just as a twig cracked nearer still.
“Fiona!” a singsong voice cried out, male and pleasant.
“Fuck!” she cursed again, this time louder, “Go ’way!” she shouted.
There was a good-natured laugh, and she looked to Leon, panicked. She obviously didn’t know what to do, so she ran forward, toward the voice, still clutching her dress to her chest, but she couldn’t stop the mysterious man in time. He broached the tree line just in time for her to run into him, her hand nearly dropping her clasped dress.