“I’m yours,” she softly answered. “You can have me.” With a teasing smile, she added, “But brush your teeth first.”
Max answered her little barb with a swat to her backside. She yelped and rubbed her stinging bottom. He kissed her temple and turned toward the sink to do as she had asked. Emma started the shower and stripped out of her clothing. She felt Max’s heated gaze on her skin as he eyed her in the salvaged mirror.
Suddenly, all the fear and uncertainty that their meeting with SICO had caused fled. Later, they could face all that. Right now? Right now, she wanted to make Max feel good. She wanted him to have an hour or two of pleasure after the hellish night he had survived.
Seemingly sharing her thoughts, Max advanced on her like a predator. A giddy sensation rolled through her stomach as she backed into the walk-in shower. Max captured her before she made it under the water. Wrapping his arms around her, he claimed her mouth. What began as a deep, sensual kiss quickly grew frantic.
Where he was usually so gentle and slow with her, today he seemed incapable of holding back. Emma sensed he was overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil of the last day. Bombings, zombies, the SICO interrogation, her antibodies, the looming decision they had to make—it seemed to have thrown him completely off-kilter.
She didn’t try to stop him or slow him down. Emma sensed he needed this. He needed to exert control so she let him.
In one swift move, Max hauled her into his arms and backed her into the corner of the shower. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He devoured her mouth, kissing and biting and licking until she was dizzy and thrumming with desire. She clutched at his shoulders and answered each of his kisses with one equally as needful. Hot water sprayed his back and shoulders, sending muddy rivulets twisting down his torso and arms. The dirty water puddled and swirled on the tile floor before vanishing down the drain.
“Emma,” Max groaned against her lips.
“I know,” she murmured back and kissed him hungrily. “I know.”
She was on fire now. Her body ached for him, her feminine core pulsing with heat. He gripped her bottom in his big, scarred hands and shifted her just a little higher. His stiff cock jutted between their bodies. The blunt head pressed into her lower belly, and she reached down to stroke him. He grunted as her hand slid from the tip to the base of his impressive shaft and back up again. Pushing into her hand, he made it clear that he wanted to be inside her.
“Wait,” she said in between desperate kisses. “Your side—”
“It’s not an issue.” He nipped at her lower lip. “You let me worry about me.”
Adjusting her weight in his arms, he shifted her higher and slid his hand between her thighs. He traced the seam of her sex with his big fingers, up and down and up and down before gently probing between her labia. He encountered the slick heat seeping from her core and growled excitedly. Spearing her with two fingers, he prepared her with slow, deep thrusts until she clawed at his shoulders and begged him to take her.
“Not yet,” he whispered against her cheek. With a devilish grin, he lowered her feet to the floor. Starting at her neck, he kissed his way from her neck to her navel. His mouth lingered on each breast, dotting kisses on her nipples and suckling at them. Her breath hitched at the sharp dart of pleasure. He read her so easily that he did it again and again until she whimpered.
“Mewling like a kitten,” he murmured against her navel, dragging his mouth around her navel and rasping her skin with his stubble. “Let’s see what it takes to make you scream.”
Grinning up at her, he pushed her thighs apart and wasted no time in tormenting her. With one long swipe, he licked her slit from the opening right up to her clitoris. Head against the tile, Emma held onto his shoulders and enjoyed the wicked way his tongue moved over her. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he was in pain or feeling discomfort as he knelt on the tile and worked her with his mouth. But he was so insistent in his erotic ministrations that she doubted he cared much about the aches and pains he felt right now.
Growling with desire, he dipped his tongue inside her and then traced her labia. When he centered his flicks over that little bundle of nerves, she cried out and gripped the back of his neck. Max grabbed her right knee and dragged her leg up high until it was draped over his shoulder. He did the same with her left and forced her thighs wide apart, opening her pussy to him.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of your sweet cunt,” he groaned before stabbing his tongue inside her. “That’s it,” he urged and sucked her clit, rolling his tongue over it. “You know you want to come for me.”
“I do,” she panted and scratched her fingers through his short hair. Her body vibrated with need. “I want to come for you.”
He knew just what she needed. Sometimes she wondered if he knew her body better than she did. He latched onto her clit and fluttered his tongue around it until she was practically climbing the shower wall. She cried out at the first fluttery burst of pleasure. He laughed triumphantly and then alternated licks with gentle suckling to drive her wild.
Pressing ticklish, noisy kisses along her inner thighs, he smiled up at her. In that moment, he looked utterly carefree. She caressed his cheek and marveled at the extraordinary man she had chosen as one of her life partners. Protector. Lover. He switched between the two roles so easily and made her feel safe and adored always.
He rose to his full height and gazed down at her with such warmth and affection. He surprised her when he reached for his bar of soap and pressed it into her hand. He must have read the confusion in her face because he said, “I can wait.”
With a skeptic glance, she eyed his thick erection. If he wanted to wait…
She lathered the bar of soap between her hands. Very gently and careful of his wounds, she spread soapy foam across his skin. Each bruise and scrape served as a reminder of how incredibly dangerous life as a cyborg could be. She couldn’t help but think about the Zed vaccine as a weapon that would help Max and Jack.
If they were immunized, they could fight more effectively. If they were immunized, they would have the leg up on Faction. If they were immunized, she would never have to fear losing them to the horrific virus.
Even though no one today had explicitly said that Faction had returned, Emma felt certain they had. There was something in the air, a static pulse of fear and dread that couldn’t be ignored. If another insurrection was coming, her men needed every advantage they could get.
And if it had to come from her blood? Well so be it.
After spending a few minutes teasing Max with her soapy hand on his cock, she helped him rinse and then quickly lathered her own skin. Despite his earlier fervor, Max’s energy seemed to flag. His erection remained rock hard and standing at full attention, but Emma wasn’t sure getting intimate in the shower was such a good idea anymore. Exhaustion was clear in the drop of his shoulders and the sag of his eyelids.
Taking his hand, she led him out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel before taking one to him. He stood still as she dabbed the water from his skin and even allowed her to doctor the cuts and scrapes on his body with some of the ointments and creams she found in the first aid kit attached to the bathroom wall.
Seemingly bemused by her attention, he watched her attend his injuries. It occurred to her that he had probably never been treated like this. She doubted the medics had time to coddle their patients, blowing on their scrapes to ease the sting or dabbing on ointments with the softest tap of their fingertips.
Knowing that Max so rarely experienced any pampering, she decided to show him one of the perks of having her as his mate. He needed the nurturing touch of a woman, and she intended to give it to him.
“Why don’t you get comfortable in bed while I clean this up?” She gestured to the medical supplies on the counter. “I’ll be right in, okay?”
Max picked up his weapons and left the bathroom, his footsteps heavy and betraying his exhaustion. She poked through the cabinet until she found the jar of homemade lotion that had been among the feminine products her men had purchased for her. She recognized the label from one of the stores in New Town and figured this was one of the suppliers who sold wares to the commissary Rio had mentioned.
Taking the jar with her into the bedroom, she smiled at the sight of Max stretched out in the center of the bed. He idly scratched at his chest and flexed his toes and calves. His impressive erection remained just as hard as ever, the head red and engorged and glistening with a few drops of shiny fluid. Never one to waste, Emma put a knee on the bed and leaned down to lick away the slick pre-cum there. Max groaned like a bear and huffed when she didn’t finish what she had started.
Instead, she twisted off the lid of the jar and scooped out some of the lotion. She rubbed it between her palms to soften the balm. Starting at his left foot, she smoothed the thinned cream onto his sole and slowly worked it into his skin. Max looked at her in the oddest way, as if he couldn’t decide whether to unwind or question why she was massaging him like this.
“Relax,” she urged, running her foot along his arch and drawing a low moan from his throat. “You’ve earned it.”
“You don’t have to do this.” His eyelids drooped even more now, but he seemed determined to stay awake.
“I know that.” She worked his big toe and then each of the smaller ones. “I want to do this.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Emma,” he said in that warning tone of his.
“I’m your wife. Sort of,” she amended, thinking that someday soon they should make their arrangement officially official with a real wedding. “And I want to take care of you the way you take care of me.”
“Woman, you keep that up,” he said with another groan as she massaged his arch again, “and I’ll do anything you want. I’ll buy you anything you want. Build you anything you want. Give you anything you want.”
Smirking, she ran her hands up to his ankle and massaged his calf. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I want something.”
Max went silent as she moved to his right foot and repeated her massage. She was running her fingers over the tattoo Rio had told her about, wondering about the pain little baby Max had felt, when he said, “And there’s no ‘sort of’ to it, Emma.”
“What?” She glanced up from the tattoo to look at his face.
“You’re not ‘sort of’ our wife. You
are
our wife. Jack and I don’t need some fancy fucking ceremony to make it real—but we’ll arrange one for you. If that’s what you want?”
“I think it would be nice to have a proper wedding. Eventually,” she added. “I’m not in any rush.”
Max seemed placated by her answer. He dropped back down to the pillow and let her continue her massage. “It would be good if we could invite your friends from the surrounding towns. We could use the occasion to show that the Outpost is safe and welcoming. It might help ease the tension and encourage more unions to be formed.”
“I’m not so sure I’m loving the idea of using my wedding day as propaganda.”
“That’s a harsh word for it.”
“What else would you call it?”
“Outreach?”
She gave his meaty thigh a flick. “I don’t think so.”
A deep laugh rumbled through his chest. He didn’t push the issue, preferring instead to groan his approval as her hands moved along his thighs. She marveled at the chiseled strength of her man, running her palms over his extraordinary muscles. Jack had a similarly incredible body, only leaner and slimmer. Rio had said they were bred for specific traits. Clearly Max’s sperm donor had been chosen for his size and athleticism as well as his intelligence and leadership skills.
“I can practically hear you thinking, sweetheart.”
Her lips curved in a tender smile as she caught him staring at her with one eye open. “If you must know—”
“I must.”
“I was thinking about your sperm donor.”
Rather comically, his expression turned to one of revulsion. “Why in the hell would you be thinking about something like that?”
“The tattoo on your foot,” she explained. “Rio told me about the way you were marked as babies.”
“Oh.” He grunted with annoyance. “Should have known that little gossiping chatterbox would fill your head with all the sordid details of my childhood.”
“You don’t like Rio?”
“I don’t like the way she’s been allowed to run wild at Camp Victory or here on this Outpost just because Eve is her mama.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t set a good example.” Huffing out a frustrated breath, he said, “You can be damn sure that our kids won’t be running amok on base. I’ll turn them over my knee so fast.”
She flicked his stomach. “You will not!”
Max met her horrified look with an unwavering stare. “There’s no place for coddling here, Emma.”
“There’s a place here for patience and love,” she argued. She took a moment to compare her childhood with the one Rio had painted of cyborg children. Maybe Jack and Max didn’t know anyway but boot camp style discipline and harshness. Trying to make him understand, she said, “Of course, I want our children to be raised up to be strong, fierce men like you and Jack—”
“Or brave, smart girls like you,” he interjected.
“Right, that too,” she agreed, secretly pleased with the way he described her. “But I don’t want them to fear you or Jack. I want them to love you and trust you and know they can always come to you for help.”
His stern expression faded. There was a far-off look in his eye and a glimmer of hope when he said, “I don’t want them to fear me either.”
“They won’t,” Emma assured him.
He went still and very quiet after that. Considering the hard life he had known, Emma figured childrearing would be difficult for him. Jack was the gentler, kinder of the pair and had more patience. Hopefully they would balance each other out when it came to fatherhood.
“You’re thinking again,” he teased.
After the emotionally heavy experiences of the last twenty-four hours, she didn’t want to dwell on the what-ifs of their future children. She really didn’t want Max getting caught up in it either. He needed to decompress.