Elements of the Undead: Fire (Book One) by William Esmont Page B

Cesar? So we all have a say in the matter?” He puffed his chest out, towering over Cesar.
    Megan leaped to her feet. “Guys! Back off,” she demanded. “This is crazy!” She wedged herself between the men, and faced Pringle. “I hear what you’re saying, Mike. You feel like we’ve taken on too many people, that we can’t protect or defend them anymore.” Pringle nodded slowly, his eyes full of suspicion.
    She turned to Cesar. “And you believe we have a responsibility to protect anyone who wants to join us.” She straightened to her full five-and-a-half feet. “I think I have an idea.”
    Cesar raised an eyebrow, and Mike looked skeptical.
    She started to lay out her plan.

Fifteen
     
     
    Hollister traced a chewed-to-the-quick nail up the thigh of the boy on her bed, winding her way through his wispy black pubic hair and finally stopping at the base of his cock. She wrapped a calloused palm around the shaft and began stroking it with singleminded intensity, increasing her pace as she felt him stiffen. The boy moaned and closed his eyes.
    “Again?” he mouthed.
    A salacious leer spread across her face. “Mmmm hmmm.”
    He opened his eyes and watched her work, his face a pathetic mask of revulsion and fatigue. Hollister knew he was worn out, expended. This was her third time in the past hour, after all. Not that she gave a shit. She slicked him down with her mouth, and then climbed on top, plunging herself against him in one brutal motion, burying him deep inside of her.
    From her perch, she watched his face with rapt amusement. Faster and faster she moved, skin smacking against skin. Sweat dripped from her brow, splashing on his chest. The boy’s eyes were closed, his mouth a tight grimace as she ground her pelvis against his, filling herself, taking what she had been denied for so long. She felt him going soft, slipping out of her—a sudden absence. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
    With a disgusted groan, Hollister rolled off and flopped onto her back beside him. She pointed at the door. “Get out!” It wasn’t an invitation.
    The boy didn’t wait for a second command. Cradling his abused penis, he rolled from the bed and gathered his clothes, then scurried from the room like a whipped dog.
    Hollister lazed on the soiled sheets for a minute, reflecting on her evening. One thing was for sure. It was time for a new plaything. She chuckled to herself, amused at the beautiful absurdity of her life.
    Prior to the collapse, this type of behavior would have landed her in the brig, or worse, in Leavenworth. Trapped on a ship full of young, virile men, she had often fantasized about starting at the bow and working her way to the stern, fucking her way through the crew one sailor at a time. But not as a Commander in the United States Navy. In a contest between her carnal desires and her passion for Navy life, the Navy had always come out on top. Besides, even if she had found a way to fulfill her fantasies in the civilian world, there would have been complications. There always were.
    She recalled the instant she had given the order to fire. Not since the day she received her Navy commission at the Academy had she been so filled with possibility. It was the closest she had ever come to orgasm without a man inside of her, and it had taken everything in her power to maintain a somber face in front of Pollard. Her first priority was survival. The world was turning to shit, and she alone had the knowledge and the skills to survive. Sure, there would be others out there, people who could scavenge, read the winds, or build a campfire. But did they have the desire to remake reality in their image? She didn’t think so.
    She sat up and crossed her legs. The room reeked of sex and stale cigarettes, a musky, flat odor that both turned her on and made her nauseous. Still, it smelled better than the inside of a sub.
    Her thoughts finally settling, she slid from the bed and pulled on a t-shirt, a pair of loose shorts, and a