Jan Springer - In Her Bed

The lavender-scented soap she washed herself with had been a gift from one of her patients, a little old lady whom Elizabeth knew only by the name of Sally. She lived alone in the next valley. Obviously no pensions existed anymore, so she’d been cut off.

Sally’s entire family had disintegrated in the solar flares, and Sally had found herself totally alone and fending for herself. She hadn’t sobbed in the middle of a river like Elizabeth was doing herself. The old woman had accepted the change, and she’d gone into the soap-making business in order to survive. If Sally could survive without looking back, then Liz should be able to do it, too, right? Right. Liz firmly nodded and inhaled sharply as she washed off the soap and quickly soaped her shoulder-length blonde hair.

Bending over to grab the pail so she could rinse the soap from her hair, she sucked in a breath as cold water touched her tender pussy. The lapping of liquid evoked all kinds of naughty images of what had happened early this morning with Durango’s face buried between her spread thighs.

Oh boy, she was in so much trouble here just thinking of Durango and of why he’d brought Landon and Tyrell back with him. She swallowed as her ass clenched with anticipation when she remembered Durango warning her if she wanted more she’d need to wear a butt plug.

She had plugs in the bedroom drawer where the three men slept. She’d used them when she’d been with Durango. Used them a lot. And if he got his way she’d be wearing them again. Probably more than ever.

Erotic heat zipped through her, and she blew out a tense breath. Okay, she needed to get out of the water and stop thinking about him and the other men. She needed to do it now, or with the intoxicating way the water stroked her clit, she’d begin masturbating.

She didn’t want to do that. Not with three men sleeping in her house, and who knew if they’d followed her out here and were watching her right now while she bathed. That thought both alarmed and excited her as she cast a fast glance at her surroundings.

From where she stood, she saw nothing but rain-dampened bushes lining both sides of the river. Here and there a bird chirped, and the ever-present cold wind whipped through the bare branches. Even the bushes and trees were barely surviving. Leaves still came out, but they didn’t look as green and lush as they once did. They appeared gnarled with a yellowing, sickly tinge. Everything looked dreary in the valley now. Despite the rain and clouds moving out of the area, the sun had come out. But it was still cold. The sun always came out and kept on shining as if nothing had ever happened.

Biting back a bitter sob, she rinsed her hair and then splashed herself, making sure all the soap was cleaned away before she hurriedly stumbled out of the river. Gathering the fresh pair of clothes she’d laid on some bushes in the sunshine, she quickly slipped into a pair of black leggings and a warm, wool, knee-length, tunic-style wraparound dress. Sliding on her warm brown leather jacket, Liz began to feel much warmer as the clothing chased away her shivers. Before long, her chattering teeth had stopped, and she was feeling back to her old self again.

Taking a deep breath, she gazed at the stone house nestled about a quarter of a mile away. Most of the roof was covered in a green moss, and wild vines clung to the stone walls. To any passerby the place would look serene. Maybe even deserted. Little did they know she had three fugitives lying fast asleep in her bed.

Three sexy desperadoes who wanted to be with her. Have mercy, she was beginning to feel terribly warm again just thinking about the things she wanted them to do to her. She ignored the gush of warm cream seeping from between her thighs. She would have to be strong now. She would have to stick to her morals no matter how much she craved to explore this sharing thing that Durango wanted. Elizabeth swallowed and started walking toward the house and toward her destiny.

She was coming up the well-trodden trail that meandered through the yellowing grass of the nearby meadow. Landon watched the lone feminine figure walking leisurely toward the stone house. He’d taken sentry beside the bedroom window shortly after hearing her leave an hour or so earlier. Pushing aside the dainty white lace curtains, he’d watched her sweet hips swaying and her shoulder-length, honey-gold hair waving in the wind as she’d strolled across the yellowing field. She’d been carrying a pink towel, so he knew she’d been heading down to the river to bathe.

Brandy. He liked that name on her. His nickname for her, because her hair looked just like the color of golden brandy when the sun hit it, and heck, with her last name of Brandywine, that name just fit.

The sun was hitting her hair that way right now as she strolled closer, the golden blonde strands waving like spun gold drying in the wind. He remembered from his previous stay here that she liked to air-dry her hair while going on solitary walks after bathing.

She looked really pretty. Even prettier than when he and Durango had left to join his cousin’s gang. She even reminded him a little of his wife, Betty. She’d been a blonde, too, and they’d been so in love and recently married when the Catastrophe had come calling. Betty and he had been at her parents’ house over in Calgary when the solar flares had flashed against the windows.

He’d thought it had been lightning, and he’d looked toward one window, his gaze leaving his startled wife one final time, his hand letting go of her hand as he thought about getting up to go and see what was going on.

At the same time he’d heard moans from around the table where he’d been sitting with his wife, her parents, and her two sisters, sharing the news that Betty was four months pregnant with twins.

One minute they’d been there, the next minute flashes of fire, grey smoke, and a really bad smell of burning flesh had burst through the dining room. When he’d swung his head to look, thinking maybe some sort of gas explosion had occurred, the woman he loved and her family had been piles of smoking grey ashes on their seats.

A really cold, creepy feeling slithered through Landon at remembering how he’d been stunned for hours afterwards. How the icy goose bumps had scattered along his arms and lasted for months after that day. He preferred not to think about that day. Preferred not to relive it.

Hell, he still had lots of nightmares about it. Still had lots of dreams of what life might have been like with Betty still alive and with two toddlers running around following him while he did the household chores. He pushed the anger and the despair back down inside himself where it belonged. He figured it was best not to ponder on it during daylight hours. Nights, he had no control over.

Instead, he preferred to focus on Brandy. She was his future. Their new future. He would protect her with his life. He would protect their children. That is, if she agreed to having a couple kids with him. He didn’t want her to think she was a baby-making machine, but yeah, he’d dreamed of having a couple of kids. Maybe it was some weird twisted dream to replace the two he’d lost? He hoped not.

Truthfully, he had probably fallen in love with her the minute he’d seen her when Durango had brought him home from Heart Creek, the nearest town where he’d been looking for work. He’d been half starved, and he’d been willing to work for food and a roof over his head. Durango had said he and Liz had just moved into the old place and that it needed fixing up big-time. He’d said they’d picked the quaint century-old home because it was the sturdiest abandoned building they’d come across and it was far away from the chaos of town, yet not so far that people who needed doctoring couldn’t find them.