The Wastelander: A Post Apocalyptic Romance by E.S. Luck

Author:E.S. Luck [Luck, E.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sleepwalker Books
Published: 2024-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

John

I can stop any time I want. It was a thought I’d had every night for two weeks straight. Claire came to my bed every night. And every night, we fucked until she left on shaky legs, her cheeks pink from our new routine. In spite of our differences, we’d found a whole new way to bridge the gap: pleasure.

I took her every way that I could, getting off on how many times I could get her off, always trying to discover things that pleased her. I always liked giving pleasure to my partners, but never as much as I liked giving it to her. I loved watching her lose control in a way that seemed new to her, and I loved that it was me making her feel that way.

There was electricity between us every time. One night, I met her at the door and threw her over my shoulder as she squealed and laughed, before bending her over the bed and fucking her from behind until she came hard, sending me over the edge with her. Another night, I lifted her onto the kitchen counter and went down on her until she’d come so many times that she begged me for mercy. Still another time, we didn’t even make it to bed, and I fucked her against the wall by the front door, her right leg wrapped around my hips, her nightgown pushed up above her breasts.

“John,” she whimpered as I pushed into her hard. “Oh God.”

I could tell she was near the edge, so I gave her a push, reaching down between us and strumming her clit with my free hand as I thrust into her.

“That’s right,” I breathed, as her head fell back against the wall with a gasp. “You’re so close, hmm? And so fucking beautiful when you come. Let me see it.”

Nothing made me feel so good as when she came on my cock, and when she cried out, I just watched her, loving the way she trembled and moaned, all sweaty and unrestrained. I’d had sex before, but it’d never been like this. This gave me a rush that I never wanted to end.

Every night, she left after we were done. She never asked to stay. She never touched me other than during sex. And every night, I stared at the ceiling in my empty bed and thought about her, smelled her on my sheets, all while giving myself shit for inviting her in again and again. And I thought about her lying in her own bed and wondered if she was thinking about me too.

The whole thing was pathetic, like a hit puppy that keeps coming back no matter what. She thought we were wrong for each other; she didn’t want a future together. Hell, maybe she was even right. Hard to think of two people less alike than we were. She grew up sheltered and safe but crushed by a dictatorship that was hard for me to wrap my mind around.

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