Chapter One
Sweat pools in the small of her back. Lying on her stomach, she clutches the mattress desperately and grinds her pelvis against it. He pushes aside her drenched hair, and then he plants his tongue on the nape of her neck, letting his teeth sink ever so lightly into her sweltering flesh. His tongue then begins to travel languidly down the length of her spine. He pauses intermittently on his way down, letting his teeth catch on her salty skin with the slightest of pressure.
"Oh, god," Andrea whimpered. "Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god."
He straddled her closed legs, his skin markedly cooler than hers. Although he was still wearing his boxer briefs, she could feel the throbbing stiffness of what she desperately needed to be inside her. His tongue lingered at the small of her back, as if he were drinking in the sweat he himself had drawn to the surface of her skin.
"Oh, god…"
She pressed her abdomen further into the mattress, instinctively lifting up her ass. Taking her body's cue, he continued his tongue's course. Anticipation rising like steam from her pores, she braced for it.
Almost there…
A tortured cry escapes her just as his tongue reaches the crevice where her legs meet. He grabs her thighs and parts them. His tongue descends.
I'm going to…
"Oh my god, oh my god, OH MY —"
Andrea's eye lids spring open. Her wild stare is fixed on the empty bunk bed above her as her body shudders with a few more contractions of ecstasy. Moisture has already soaked through her panties, making an already-cold stain on the mattress.
A wet dream?
"A wet fucking dream?" she asked aloud, incredulous and confused. She hoped she hadn't been vocalizing whatever she had moaned and screamed in her dream.
Confused because she couldn't remember the last time she had had an orgasm. With the ongoing crisis she and her group had been facing—the end of the fucking world, basically—sex had been far from her mind. A sliver of a memory and a foregone luxury was all it had been to her, until now.
Confused because it was all so vivid, so realistic. She still felt the wet warmth of his tongue gliding down her back and his erection pressing relentlessly into the backs of her thighs.
Confused because it was him. She had never, ever thought of him—or anyone else in their group—in a sexual way. How could she? Everything about this was wrong, on so many levels.
Him? Him? Why? Just…fucking…why?
Disgusted with herself, Andrea rose from the creaky bed. She changed her panties, peeled off her white sweat-soaked camisole, and suited herself in her usual army surplus store attire.
Sitting back down on the bed for a moment, she leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees. Sighing heavily, she dropped her head into her hands and then rubbed her eyes with her palms.
This is going to be weird.
But she couldn't stay in her cell all day, avoiding him and everyone else. She slid the cell door open and headed toward the prison kitchen.
