Shoshanna Evers - The Pulse

“I’d never hurt you, Emily.”

“I know,” she said, but she still seemed uneasy. “I’m just—I’m so glad you’re alive. I was worried.”

“I’m harder to kill than you’d think,” he mused. “Man, I’m starving.”

“I bet you are,” Emily said, smiling now. “Let me get you some broth. I found a can of veggies in the kitchen in the basement while you were sleeping, and I boiled it into a soup to make it last longer. Trick I learned at the camp.”

“I don’t want broth,” he said, standing up, testing his legs. “I need meat.”

“We don’t have any.”

He looked at her. Now that he stood she appeared even tinier to him. She barely came up to his shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re a good nurse. I’m lucky I found you.”

Emily blushed. Reaching out, he cupped her face. She stiffened then.

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I know you’re not like—” She didn’t finish her thought. He dipped his head down to hers and kissed her soft cheek.

She took a step back.

“Show me where the kitchen is. I need to hunt us some rats.”

Emily couldn’t stoplooking at Mason, at his huge body, his large hands, and his beautiful face. His hair was thick and brown and shaggy, but she noticed when she cleaned his scalp wound that he didn’t have lice—practically a miracle considering his living conditions. His blue eyes seemed to see right through to her core whenever he looked in her direction.

What if he knows about the radio?

Impossible. He definitely wasn’t from Grand Central, she believed him on that. But the men at the camp were going to be looking for her, if they weren’t already. She had to get out of the city.

She wished she could go alone, but she knew both her limits and the reality of her situation. Traveling alone was asking for trouble, and she’d had about all the trouble she could handle lately.

If Mason went with her, she’d be protected. She’d have a better chance of making it out of Manhattan with him. So she needed to keep him by her side, no matter what. The thought of a man’s touch after the past months living on the Tracks scared her, but it was the only way.

Sitting next to him, watching the glow in the wastebasket fire he had set to cook their rat meat, she felt a twinge of excitement lining her fear. She could do worse, that was for sure. But why had he been in prison?

What if he was a rapist, or a murderer?

Stop thinking about that , she chided herself. She watched as he licked his fingers clean, polishing off the last of the rat. It had actually tasted quite good. Like barbeque.

Seeing his tongue flick out of his mouth made her imagine him doing other things with his tongue. Her pussy got wet at the thought, and she remembered the chaste kiss he’d given her earlier that day.

They were sitting on a hospital blanket laid out on the cold tile floor, like a strange nighttime picnic. Emily touched Mason’s arm tentatively.

He turned to her, the fire reflecting in his eyes. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

He pulled her to him them, kissing her, his lips pressing against hers with a tenderness that melted her fears. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered.

Which made her want him all the more. Not being forced, being able to choose… It felt nice. “I know. I want to.”

He held her tightly in his strong arms. She could feel his heart beating, steady and slow beneath her palm. He reached up and tentatively caressed her breast, rubbing his palm over her skin, cupping her, as if he were testing the weight of her breasts in his hands.

She arched toward him, needing to feel more contact. His thumb grazed her nipple and she bit back a moan of delight, pressing her breasts into his hands, imploring him with her eyes to continue.

Mason kissed her neck, his breath hot on her cool skin, and she gasped as his mouth trailed lower, placing soft kisses over her shoulders and down to her breasts. When his tongue gently lapped at her nipple, she couldn’t hold back her desire any longer.

“Yes, Mason,” she whispered.

He complied with her unspoken wish and pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, flicking her nipple with his tongue until it became a tight bud that peaked. As he suckled her he reached up and gently pinched her other nipple, tweaking it in time with his mouth on the other side.

She breathed in and let her head loll back, luxuriating in the sensation after having been untouched by gentle hands in so long.

Mason reached down to her fly and unbuttoned it. She let him, feeling the undeniable inevitability of it all. She was his, and that was good.

“Take off your jeans,” he said. “But… only if you want to.”

She obeyed quickly. It had been a long time since she had made love—too long. The experiences she had since their world had turned upside down didn’t even come close to counting.

But this, this was something she wanted. Needed.

Naked before him, Emily pressed herself against his long, hard body, still clad in his cargo pants. A thick brush of curls covered her pussy where she used to regularly wax it bare, and she hadn’t shaved her legs in almost a year. Would he be turned off?

Then the look of unadulterated desire she felt when she looked at Mason blew any self-consciousness right out of her mind.

He reached between her legs and ran one long finger along her slick folds. Gasping, she clutched his shoulders, steadying herself. He dipped his finger inside her, making a “‘come hither” gesture that perfectly hit her G-spot, and she swooned against him, moaning.

It felt incredible. He lifted her, one hand still buried in her cunt, and she gasped as the movement rocked her hard against his fingers. He laid her on the cot, moving apart her knees with his large hands.

He dipped his head between her thighs, spreading her labia with his hand until her clit, swollen already with anticipation, lay vulnerable and open to his mouth. He sucked her bud, laving it with his merciless tongue, licking her folds once more before capturing her clit again into his hot mouth.

She cried out at the sensation, running her fingers through his shaggy hair, scratching her fingernails over his broad shoulders as he flicked her clitoris over and over again. She exploded into her climax, crying out, gasping for breath, moaning his name into the dark night.

He looked up at her, her moisture still glossing his lips, and grinned. “You’re delicious,” he said, and he licked her clit again.

“Oh my God,” she moaned, the sensation of his tongue on her already overstimulated clit making her crazy with lust.

She halfheartedly tried to push his head away but he grabbed her wrist and held it still against her heaving belly as he continued to suck her clit. He kept going even as she slammed her thighs against his ears, bringing her to a second body-shaking orgasm.

Her body racked with spasms as the muscles contracted again and again.

“Fuck me, Mason. I need you in me, now,” she gasped.

“No, Emily,” he said gently. “Not just yet.” He picked her up from the blanket, her body boneless and satiated.

“I want to return the favor. Please.” She got to her knees, still shaking from the aftershock of her orgasm.

She reached her hands up to his cargo pants tentatively, asking permission with her eyes. She could tell he was hard, even through the pants. He made quick work of dropping them and she smiled, licking her lips.

His cock sprung out, heavy and thick in her palm, so hard it was almost purple. A bead of pre-come clung to the tip of his slit like a tiny jewel.

She took his length in her hand, cupping his balls with her other, loving how vulnerable he had made himself to her, loving the feeling of power it gave her to make him groan like that, even on her knees.