Daniel knew she would be the death of him. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
Ali wedged her upper body beneath a line of supermarket shelving as she stretched and strained to reach wayward cans of caramel goo. The words pouring out of her sweet, sweet mouth were gutter talk by any standards. Daniel wouldn’t have gone anywhere near her had he been the subject of that particular discourse.
What a lie. He was a total sucker for her, fair weather or foul. Ideally he should help her reach the cans of goo. He really, honest to God, should get down and lend her some assistance, only her butt was wriggling in the most intriguing way. He couldn’t move to save himself. The sight held him transfixed. A few hours previous he had lined the length of his painfully hard cock up with the crack of her very sweet ass.
Awfully close to heaven on earth as he knew it.
It made a man wonder what he could talk her into, given a little time and plenty of patience. And he had both. The possibilities were endless.
But back to the present.
“Yes! Eureka!” Said butt wiggled back and several cans rolled forth. He really wanted to cup her ass, take it in hand and call it his.
Lick it, bite it, and own it completely. It would so make his day.
“Well done, brave young hunter.”
Ali climbed to her feet, with a victorious grin. “Thank you.”
“You’ve got, ahh …” He gestured to the smattering of dust bunnies that had attached themselves to her front. Who could blame them? He himself loved to be plastered against her, preferably without clothes.
“Hmm.” Her hands started brushing off her shirt, beating off the dust and dirt, setting her boobs to moving in a wondrous manner.
Hard to say whether watching or doing would have been more fun.
He grew very hard.
“I’d offer to help but you’d take it the wrong way, wouldn’t you?” One side of her luscious mouth kicked up, and he recalled with much joy, she still owed him a blow job. Life was sweet.
“Are your intentions pure?”
“No. Not in the least.”
Her smile widened. His heart jumped.
“You’re honest,” she said. “That counts for something.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Daniel held the shotgun out to her. When her slender fingers wrapped around it he towed her in, not stopping till their chests bumped. The sweet mounds of her breasts pressed up against him. “What say we call it a night. Find someplace safe to hole up and practice our repopulation methods. Do it for our country. What do you think?”
His girl arched her neck to look up at him, the long line of her throat calling to tongue and teeth. “It’s only a little past midday. We could go for hours yet. I thought towns made you twitchy.”
“I could definitely go for hours. You make me twitchy.”
“Daniel. That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”
“But you like it, right?” He leant down and brushed her cheek with his lips, slid his free hand around to cop a feel of her. “Tel me this is calling to your inner patriot, babe.”
She smiled and angled her face so their mouths brushed. Lips soon locked with everything hot and wet and good. Kissing Ali was so divine he forgot to breathe. Her kisses made him giddy. The way she opened her mouth to him was exactly what he needed. Her hand moved up his chest hesitantly, turning him rock hard. He oh so welcomed her touch.
Far less welcome was the shrill wolf whistle from the end of the aisle.
Daniel shoved her against the shelving behind him. He kept the shotgun in hand as he faced the strangers. Five of them, all wearing the remnants of military uniform with a dash of “fuck you”thrown in for good measure. Harley t-shirts and shit kickers, mirrored sunglasses and backward bal caps. It was a wonder they could stand, they were so heavily armed.
He had failed her.
“We’ll have the woman,” one large and ugly specimen informed him. Daniel could smell the scotch and marijuana perfuming the bastard from meters away.
“Bad idea, seriously. She’s very mouthy, difficult. I won’t even start in on her trust issues.”
“And yet …” The big bastard licked his chops and ran his fingers up the barrel of his machine gun.
Clearly, the gun overcompensated for something.
The bastard resembled an ape. Hairy shoulders displayed by an undershirt that had to come back as something less tortured in its next life, if fairness counted at all.
Knuckles slid against his skin and her hand gripped the pistol tucked into the back of his belt. The gun slid out and his heart hit the bottom of his chest and broke in two. The pain was shattering.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered hoarsely.