Page 17 of Once Upon an Apocalypse

Though we must say goodnight and go to bed, everything will be as it was when we wake up in the morning. How much I wish for that to be true.

Chapter 12

“I’llescortherbackto my room,” Jonah says, intercepting the guards who’ve been assigned to me today.

“Yes, sir,” the guards say, not bothering to question Jonah’s authority. He’s rising among the ranks, proving his loyalty whenever he can. Which is why I can’t confide in him. And yet, I still care about him. He’s Jonah Rosenberg. The guy I’ve crushed on my whole life. My boyfriend? Is that even a term we use anymore in this new world? And he is kind to me, as kind as he can be in this underground hell.

Before I can say anything to Jonah, he scoops me up in his arms and sprints to his prison cell. After closing his door, he slides my joggers down my butt, pulling them over my ankles. While kneeling in front of me, he locks his gaze with mine and says, “I love you, Laurel Hill.”

“What’s this all about?” I ask, shivering from the rapid change in temperature.

Jonah doesn’t answer as he stands up, towering over me with a crooked smile on his beautiful face. Suddenly, his lips are on mine, giving me a kiss that is soft with a hint of urgency, like he is holding himself back, savoring me. I moan against his lips and he pulls me closer so I can feel his hardness against my belly. He kisses me like he has been starved of kisses his whole life.

My arms wrap around Jonah’s neck as he lifts me up on the bed, laying me down so my legs dangle off the edge. The feel of his warm hands as they travel down my body ground me to this moment. I know where he is going, and the anticipation is agonizing. He chuckles as I wiggle to bring my core closer to his hands, but he obliges by slipping his long fingers between my thighs.

“Jonah,” I moan, as he expertly explores the sensitive folds there. “Yes.”

“Fuck, Lori, you are so fucking sexy like this.”

I arch my back, pushing into his hand, needing more of him. Needing all of him. As he stands in between my legs, I reach the buckle of the belt on his pants, but my shaking hands fumble to unfasten it. Sensing my need, Jonah assists me with his free hand and helps me slide his pants down to his knees.

And, oh, what a glorious sight it is to see Jonah so ready. I grip him with both of my hands, but he only lets me stroke him a few times before he pulls away. Before I open my mouth to complain, he throws off his shirt and steps out of his pants.

Jonah is so beautiful. He’s always been beautiful. Now that he works out, his tight, flat stomach and long, muscular legs are toned to perfection.

As I continue to devour him with my eyes, I remove my underwear and shirt. His smirk tells me he’s very aware of my admiration. Our eyes lock as he pushes my legs apart, settling himself between them.

Jonah kisses my forehead, then turns me to my side. At first, I’m confused when he slides into bed behind me, thinking that maybe he just wants to snuggle. Jonah’s hand trails down my stomach and I have to swallow a moan as he plunges two fingers inside me. My back arches into him, placing my ear under his mouth, which he gently nibbles on. This sensation is my absolute favorite. Why can’t I feel like this every minute of the day? Tingly, careless, warm. Good. I feel so good with Jonah’s fingers pulsing inside me and his tongue licking my ear.

I bite through the pain of my recently healed arm and reach back to grab Jonah’s solid length. Taking my cue, Jonah effortlessly slides himself inside my entrance.

“Lori, fuck,” Jonah moans as he thrusts deeper.

“More,” I plead.

“Hmmm, yes. More.” His voice is hoarse, lost in the passion of our joined bodies.

The more we have sex, the more I need it. The escape from reality. The escape from pain. The escape from fear. For one moment, I am free. I just have to stay in this moment. Focus on Jonah’s breathing. Remember that he loves me. Pretend that we are in the before, in my bedroom at home.

As long as I can keep up the illusion, I can feel something more, something good. Really good.

“Lori,” Jonah yells into my ear, finishing inside me before that something good can erupt in me. It’s okay though. At least he made me feel something.

Jonah wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against him. I wince at the pain, an instant reminder that my arm had been sawed off during my morning session as the bunker’s lab rat. It only took six hours for my arm to reattach itself and another hour to close up the wound entirely. While eating dinner, the redness began to recede so that by the time Jonah swept me off my feet, the evidence of my torture was no longer visible. I should tell him. I know I should. But would he do anything to stop it? I don’t know. And that scares me more than getting my arm sawed off.

A pair of hands yank me from sleep, pulling me away from Jonah’s bed. The both of us are thrown to the floor and told to get our clothes on. My hands shake as I pull on my clothes while Jonah’s hands are steady. He dresses as if he’s on a mission, no traces of fear lining his face.

“Did we do something wrong?” I ask the guard, a man I have seen with Jonah many times. His superior officer, I think.

“You did not have approval to take Doctore’s property into your bed last night, guardian,” the man says to Jonah.

“What?” I shout, disgusted at being called property. Even more disgusted that Jonah says nothing against it.

“I will accept the punishment, Legatus. She should not have to answer for my error.”

“You will both be punished. She has her own crimes to answer for.”

“Crimes?” I ask, fury vibrating through my body.

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