Page 20 of My Apocalypse Mountain Man
The angle has him hitting deep, every thrust sending pleasure sparking through me. I'm close already, wound tight from wanting him.
"Touch yourself," he orders. "Make yourself come on my cock."
I slide one hand between my legs, fingers finding my clit. The added sensation makes me moan.
"That's it. Let me hear you."
I work myself while he fucks me, chasing my orgasm. When it hits, I come hard, crying out his name as my pussy clenches around him.
"Fuck, Sierra." His rhythm falters. "You feel so good when you come. So fucking tight."
He thrusts a few more times, then buries himself deep with a groan as he comes, filling me.
We collapse onto the bed, both breathing hard. Kole pulls me against his chest, his hand sliding possessively over my hip.
"I love you," he says against my hair.
"I know." I press back against him. "I love you too."
"What do you think we should tell Tom?"
I turn in his arms to look at him. "I think we should say yes. Start small, see how it goes. We don't have to commit to anything permanent—just try staying connected. See if it works."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we still have each other. This mountain. Our own little corner of the world."
He's quiet for a moment, then nods. "Okay. We try it your way."
"Our way," I correct. "We're partners, remember?"
"Partners," he agrees, and seals it with a kiss.
seven
Kole
TwoweeksafterTom'svisit, and we're on our first supply run together to Old Pines.
The morning started easy, with clear skies, good visibility, no signs of trouble. We made good time down the mountain trail, Sierra keeping pace beside me.
"Think Tom's stocked those coffee beans he promised?" she asks, adjusting her pack.
"If he hasn't, we're raiding his personal supply."
"I like how you think."
We're about five miles from Old Pines when I smell it. Smoke. Not campfire smoke—something bigger, nastier.
Sierra catches it at the same time, her hand going to her rifle. "That's not good."
"No." I scan the tree line, looking for the source. "Could be a controlled burn."
"You don't believe that."
"No, I don't."
We approach cautiously, using the cover of the forest. As we get closer, I can hear it—gunfire, sporadic but sustained. And underneath that, the distinctive sound of zombies. Lots of them.
