A Mad Zombie Party

“Please, Aston,” she gasps. “More.”


I grind against her with more force. “I love when you say my name.”

“I love saying it.” She glides her tongue over my lips then adds huskily, “I love the taste of it.” The look she gives me is a little wicked and wanton—and a lot dirty.

“Taste...yes...” I kiss her from mouth to ankle and everywhere in between, until I’m drunk on all things Milla. The sweetness of her, the silk of her skin, the little sounds she makes when I do something she really enjoys. Sometimes I pause just to peer into her eyes, to convince myself she’s real, and this is happening. It isn’t long before she’s writhing, begging me incoherently, a fine sheen of perspiration on her brow. But only when she’s quivering and begging for release do I brace an arm at her temple and trail the other down—

“Oh!” she gasps. “That’s...that’s...incredible.”

“I’m just getting started.” I play with her some more, taking my time preparing her for what’s to come. Not just physically, but emotionally. As I touch her, I tell her how much she means to me. I tell her how beautiful she is, and how lost I’d be without her. Soon, she’s once again plagued by need and begging...and I’m on the verge of losing control. “Condom,” I tell her, leaning over to grab one from the nightstand. I’m shaking.

As I roll on the latex, she nips at my mouth. She sucks on my neck and claws at my back.

“The way you make me feel...”

“If it’s anything like the way you make me feel, we’re going to have the best life together.”

Of that I had no doubt. “Look at me.”

Her gaze meets mine without hesitation. I hold her stare. I want her to know I’m here with her. I’m not thinking of anyone else. It’s just the two of us in this bed.

“Aston,” she whispers. “Now.”

Yes.

Now.

*

I have never been so sated. Milla...she rocked my whole freaking world.

We doze for a bit, wake, make love again, then doze again.

The second time we awaken, I wonder how she tricked the agents who were supposed to kill the others. Our eyes meet—

—and I’m walking toward the front door of the house. The lights are out, and all is quiet. But I know trouble waits outside. When I turn the lock, the door bursts open and four men rush inside the foyer. They’re dressed in black, and the one in front points his gun directly at my chest. I knew this was coming, prepared for it, but I hate that it’s happening. Takes all of my willpower to remain calm. I have to remain calm. The life and death of my friends depends on me.

“The slayers are drugged and asleep,” I say.

He motions toward the staircase with the barrel of the gun. “Take us to the bedrooms.”

He keeps the weapon pressed between my shoulder blades as I lead the way. All he has to do is twitch his finger and boom, I’m dead. My knees threaten to buckle as I climb the stairs. If one thing goes wrong, just one...

“Here.” I stop on the third floor. “Only two bedrooms are unoccupied.”

“Ali Bell?” he demands.

“In the room at the far right.”

The men branch off, each entering a different room. In the silence, I pick up the slight pop pop of silencers being put to good use, and hot tears streak down my cheeks. I know no one is actually in bed. I know test dummies from the work-out rooms are now dressed in wigs and clothes and they’re the ones taking the bullets. I know lightbulbs have been removed from every lamp, just in case a bad guy decides to double-check his kill. I know my friends are hiding in closets and bathrooms, just in case we have to fight our way out of this horrible plan.

But the stress just might kill me.

Two of the men return. The tallest one blows me a kiss.

“Shame to kill all the pretties without giving them a proper send-off.” He looks me up and down and leers. I’ll call him Target One. “Maybe you can make it up to me later.”

I shudder with revulsion.

“Shut up,” the other snaps. “Those girls are hard-core. They would’ve cut out your heart before you ever got your pants down.”

Target One says, wiggling his brows at me. “Not if they were tied properly.”

The remaining agents come out of Cole and Ali’s room, dragging a sleep-rumpled and handcuffed Ali between them.

“Did you do this?” She tries to lunge at me.

Gold-star acting, right there.

“I’m sorry,” I say, playing my part, as well. Not that I have to do much acting. I’m miserable.

“Let’s go.” My arm is gripped. I’m yanked forward and—

—the bedroom comes back into focus.

I’m yanked from Milla’s memories, and I want to rage about the danger she faced. I want to rejoice at the results. “I’m surprised Cole allowed Ali to be taken.”

“He didn’t want to,” she says, “but that girl can be persuasive.”

“You mean bossy, stubborn and vengeful.” She nods, and I add, “You suffer from the same afflictions.”

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