James Axler – Way of the Wolf

At last Ryan let her climax crest, cradling her hips against his face so he could go deeper and maintain the contact his lover desired even though her body bucked against him. He rode out the release, staying on target, feeling his own needs building even more as hers were met. After a time she went limp against him.

He drew back, smiling up at her across the flat planes of her stomach and the mounds of her breasts. “Mebbe there’s something to be said for the occasional room at the inn.”

“Speaking of in,” Krysty said, “why don’t you come up here?”

Ryan covered her body with his. He slid into her at once, going as deep as he’d ever been. She gave a slight moan again, letting him know the lovemaking wasn’t completely over for her, either. He trapped her wrists in his, holding them flat against the bed as he took her. His own climax came near to bursting, only a few short movements away.

With a burst of strength, Krysty seized his wrists in hers and flipped him over on his back without losing their connection. Ryan felt her liquid desire melting down around his hardness. She held his arms down as she took him forcibly enough to make the bed creak. Ryan rode out her excitement and determination, meeting her stroke for stroke. Then it seemed like everything in him came loose and exploded.

Krysty cried out again as she hit her own peak, even harder than before. She slowed her hip undulations, bringing them down.

She leaned down and kissed him. He breathed in the scent of her, and of the soap that still clung to her skin.

“I guess there is going to be a later,” she said in a throaty voice.

“Play your cards right,” Ryan growled, “and there could still be a now.”

“No time, lover.” She kissed him again, then heaved up off him. “The best you’re going to hope for right now is that the bathwater is still warm.”

Ryan watched her walk back to the bathroom. He felt the grin on his face in spite of the situation they found themselves in. There was something about Krysty that had made him start seeing some of the soft sides of life again. Some days he didn’t like that thought. Only a hard man survived in Deathlands.

He slipped the SIG-Sauer from under the mattress and walked into the bathroom after her.

“IT’S NOT MUCH farther now.”

Doc glanced down at his small companion. Albert kept up an almost running gait to match the taller man’s strides. The dwarf kept his hands on the holstered .38s.

Long shadows filled the warren of alleyways in front of Doc. He guessed that they were in the older section of the ville. Hazard had been built from some good timbers, planed and put together with skill. But here in the center of the ville where the rest of the community had evidently sprung from, most of the buildings remained cobbled-together structures made from cast-offs of other buildings.

Cobb’s turned out to be one of the oldest buildings. It was a narrow, two-story structure, its eaves made up of abandoned garage doors. Whitewash covered the surfaces, but those surfaces possessed an ill fit. Plaster caulking hung in thick coats over the cracks and joints. Yellow light showed through at the top and bottom of the door, leaking through from a lantern beyond. The light also lit up a wide pane of glass with Cobb’s Bookstore hand lettered across it. Masking tape held fragments of the glass together.

On the other side of the window was a group of small round tables and straight-backed chairs. A counter stood farther back, a dark rectangular shadow in front of the lantern hanging on the wall. A cigarette coal glowed orange in the darkness.

Albert walked to the door and reached up for the bell string. He pulled it vigorously three times, then waited.

Doc stood on the uneven porch beside the little man and watched as two shadows got up from the tables inside. He felt edgy and tense in spite of Albert’s camaraderie.

The door creaked open, revealing a thin strip of a man’s face and one piercing eye that flicked over Doc, going from up to down and back again. “Howdy, Albert. Something I can do for you?”