Page 49 of Uprising

“Oh god,” I murmur, my hips bucking forward and then back. His finger enters me fully when I move back. He smiles against me, bobbing his head at a steady pace, just as he works his finger in and out of me. It’s not long before he adds another finger. I feel my balls drawing up, unable to stop myself from fucking myself on his fingers. He feels too good inside me, so the simple idea of him replacing his fingers with his cock is almost enough to put me over the edge.

When he massages that special place in me, it makes me whisper, “Daddy.”

Knowing I have daddy issues and then feeling the word slip from my lips are two different things.

I whine when Reed pulls back, my dick bobbing in front of him.

“I should’ve known,” he whispers. While he keeps two fingers inside me, he uses his other hand to wrap around my shaft. “You scream daddy issues, and well, I quite like it. I think that’s the only name I’ll answer to from now on.”

I nod eagerly. I’ll call him anything he wants as long as he lets me cum.

“I want to hear the words, Noah. I want you to beg me; I want to hear it again.”

“Yes, yes, fuck. Please, Daddy, please make me cum.” I’m a mess, needing to have my release before I go crazy. “Daddy, please.”

Reed takes me in his mouth again, working me over harder, his finger moving inside me, making me turn into mush. Please and Daddy fly from my mouth countless times. Noises come out of me that I’ve never made before, my balls pull up tight, and I barely get “Daddy,” out before I’m shooting down his throat. Reed swallows every drop, not missing a beat. My heart races against my rib cage when he presses against my prostate again.

“Oh my fuck,” I mumble as he slowly cleans me up with his tongue. My eyes drift close when he lets me slip from his mouth, his finger disappearing from my ass.

“You’re beautiful when you cum,” he whispers before pressing a single kiss to my hipbone.

It’s not until my heart returns to normal that I realize I let Reed distract me from the truth. I let a murderer blow me; I called him daddy. And while it felt amazing, I can’t stop the sickening feeling in my gut.

And what’s even worse, I wouldn’t mind doing it again.

CHAPTER29

Noah

Ido my best to ignore Reed for the next few days. We only talk when he helps me bathe or if I’m eating. Other than that, I keep to myself, enjoying being outside without the worry of something dead coming after me. Or reading a romance book that Reed thankfully showed me. When I had to ask whose they were, because I doubt he's reading about romance and smut, he got quiet. I figured it was someone he used to work with, or I assumed with what I read.

Thankfully he didn’t see the photo I found. It was seconds before he walked in that I shoved it back into the family folder. I wonder if he forgot it was in there, or did he not know?

Three guys stood next to each other; one wore a black mask with a white skull, only his eyes showing. The middle one had an AR-14, but there was no missing Reed on the other end. The smile across his face was nothing like I’ve seen before, it was real. Genuine.

I wanted to know the Reed in this picture. Over the last two days, the question of what hardened him plays on the tip of my tongue. He had the scar on his lip there, but he wasn’t wearing a mask. We quickly figured out the virus wasn’t airborne. It couldn’t be because of his scar; it was beautiful.

But that small part of my brain told me to stop, to slow down. I’m used to violence. While my parents were a scientist and a doctor, they had enough security around them that caused tension and a few fights here and there. And now with the dead walking among us, well, it has to harden you somehow. But what about it that has my brain telling me not to trust him?

“We need to take your stitches out today,” Reed calls out from the kitchen. I peer over my shoulder to show him that I’ve at least heard him before returning back to my book. Needing anything to distract myself from the impending doom beating down my throat.

“Noah!” Reed calls out louder this time.

Turning my head, I raise a brow, waiting for him to continue on what he needed to say.

“Did you hear me?”

My brows furrow; he either didn’t hear me or something else is bothering him. But Reed hears everything, even if we’re inside. I’ve caught him more times than not turning his head up, telling me to shush.

“Yes, I heard you.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I looked at you. I acknowledged you.” It’s a weak excuse; it’s also dumb to think that me just looking at him would be enough. If he were to do that to me, I’d probably throw that stupid mug in his hand at his face, but Reed, he’s somehow more composed than ever. It used to bother me, but now it’s normal. I kind of like it.

Reed tilts his head to the side, studying for a moment before he crosses the kitchen into the bathroom. I hear him moving around before reappearing with a small bag in his hands. Coming over to me, he sits down on the coffee table before opening the bag. I watch him pull out large tweezers and a pair of surgical scissors.

Anxiety hits me; I clearly wasn’t awake when the stitches got put into my body, but the idea of him now ripping them out.

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