The Thrust Read online

  The wife looked relieved. “Okay. Thank you.”

  But the man didn’t. “So you want me to stay here while I let one of these women go and fight in my place?” He crossed his arms, his chocolate-toned skin contrasting brilliantly against his white T-shirt. “That’s not right.”

  A woman, one who looked as tough and resilient as Clarissa knew she must be to have survived this long, shook her head. “Come on, Bill. We’re not delicate flowers here. And the women on the Tracks, if it’s anything like Clarissa and Jenna have told us, will probably be more willing to escape with women than with a bunch of strange men with guns.”

  Clarissa nodded. “That’s true. We don’t want to go through all the effort of breaking into the camp only to find out that no one feels safe enough to leave with us.”

  “Let’s meet again tomorrow at noon,” Trent said. “See if anyone else is willing to come. We’ll need more people than this if we’re going to have a fighting chance. And we need to think about ways to get the citizens at Grand Central on our side. Maybe even get the soldiers there on our side, so they don’t try to kill us on sight.”

  The wife, Bill’s wife, shook her head and muttered.

  Trent glanced at Clarissa, and she offered him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. Without Trent to help them convince the people of Letliv to join them, they’d be lost.

  Trent nodded. “And I’ll work with Clarissa, Jenna, and Barker to make a map of the grounds. We won’t be going in blind.”

  The meeting adjourned, and Clarissa followed Trent back up to his house.

  “Thank you,” she said, when they got into his living room.

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  They were alone again. Barker and Jenna had gone fishing with one of the crews, determined to put in their fair share of work in the town.

  Trent still looked pumped from the meeting, as if his adrenaline and excitement had stayed with him even after the last person had filed out of the church.

  “You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “I’m doing this for Annie, too. I want my sister safe. And you . . . you knew her. You helped her. That earns you a place in my house, any day of the week.”

  “Jenna seemed to think you might have other motives,” Clarissa said quietly. “For asking me to stay with you, I mean.”

  Trent paused, looking down at her from his significant height advantage. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “I know that,” she whispered. She did. He was good, she trusted her gut on that. “But I don’t think she . . . Jenna doesn’t think you’ll hurt me. Against my will, I mean.”

  The air was thick with shimmering desire between them, and for once, Clarissa didn’t attempt to tamp it down.

  She hadn’t felt desire, true need, in a long time. Sex on the Tracks was currency, and it hadn’t been fun. Not for her, anyway. Sex with Roy had basically been an experiment with mediocre results. When the time had come for her to actually let Roy inside her, her body had tensed, as if her body remembered what her mind wouldn’t let her forget.

  But around Trent, she felt . . . open. Like herself.

  Jenna’s words flitted through her mind. Why deny yourself pleasure?

  “I admit,” Trent said, his voice low, “you’re a . . . a very beautiful woman. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to you.”

  He stepped in closer, so close they were almost touching.

  “But,” he said, “I haven’t been with anyone since my wife died. We were together for ten years.”

  Clarissa nodded, feeling suddenly ashamed. He was rejecting her advances, after she’d spent the night imagining that if the bedroom door weren’t locked he’d be all over her.

  She felt like a fool.

  “I still love my wife,” he whispered. “I always will. Even though she’s gone, I’m not sure how I could . . . sleep with anyone else. With you.”

  “No, forget I said anything,” Clarissa said, turning away so he wouldn’t see the shame on her face. What had she been thinking?

  Trent reached out and took hold of her arm, gently pulling her back to him. His grasp was strong, but she wasn’t afraid.

  “Just forget it,” she said, the heat of his hand still encircling her flesh.

  “I don’t want to forget it,” he said. “We both want . . . I do want you. And I think you feel the same the way. We just don’t know what to do with ourselves.” He laughed softly.

  “I feel different around you, Trent,” she admitted. “And you’re right, I have absolutely no idea where to go from here.”

  Suddenly, his mouth was on hers, her body pressed against his. Her passion spiked, and she opened her lips to let him in.

  “What the hell are we getting ourselves into?” he murmured against her lips.

  “Let’s not think about it.” She tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He was so tall. Normally a man of his size would have intimidated her, scared her. But instead she felt protected by him.

  His cock hardened against her belly, reminding her of his desire, and of his potential power over her. And yet, she wasn’t afraid. For the first time in a long time, the idea of having sex didn’t fill her with dread or emptiness.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  “I feel like I’m cheating on her,” he said. “I know I’m not. That she’s gone, forever. That we might not be on this earth for much longer ourselves.”

  “We shouldn’t do anything you’ll regret,” she said. But she said it with her body still pressed against his. She didn’t want to regret anything either, but somehow, this felt more right than anything had since the Pulse.

  He groaned, kissing her again. “Let’s not think about it, like you said.”

  Trent’s hands cupped her ass through her pants, pulling her even closer to him. His cock pushed against her abdomen, and he lifted her in his arms easily, until she straddled his waist.

  “Can I take you into the bedroom?”

  Was she really about to do this?

  Yes.

  * * *

  Trent watched Clarissa’s beautiful face carefully, trying to discern any doubt on her part, any sense that she felt pressured. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel pushed into sleeping with him.

  But all he saw was passion. Need.

  Fuck yeah.

  He’d wanted Clarissa from the moment he saw her. How could he not? Her luscious red hair, her pale skin that looked like she was always basking in moonlight. She was beautiful.

  Trent walked with her, holding her with her legs wrapped around him, pushing into the bedroom. At some point she’d made the bed.

  Every primal instinct in him made him want to throw her onto the bed so they could ravish each other.

  Be careful with her, man.

  He had to take it easy, to make sure that she was on board every step of the way.

  “Can I lay you down?” he asked, pressing a desperate kiss against her cheek.

  “Yes.”

  Her long legs sprawled lewdly, and she smiled up at him before closing them.

  “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he whispered. “But I’d really like to make you feel good.”

  She nodded, pulling her clothes off until she lay naked before him.

  Trent’s cock pulsed in his pants, his desire mounting to the point that he thought if he couldn’t have her, he’d die.

  But no, he wouldn’t die. And for her sake, he needed to take things slow.

  Trent pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it next to her on the bed, keeping his pants on. He knelt on the floor and pulled her by her hips until the junction of her thighs rested at the edge of the bed.

  Perfect.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped, when he lowered his head to her pussy and kissed her there.

  “Is this okay?”

  “Fuck. Yes. Definitely okay,” she said. Her hands raked through his hair, across his shoulders as he li
cked her.

  Her moans, her sighs, God—Trent had never been more turned on in his life. He took his time pleasuring her, relishing her taste.

  “I could do this forever, if you’d let me,” he murmured, running his tongue in circles over her clit.

  His words seemed to bring on her climax. Clarissa cried out, holding his head between her legs until he’d sucked her pussy through wave after wave of her orgasm.

  “Please, Trent, I need you in me.” She held her arms up to him, and he lowered his body on top of hers, quickly unbuckling his pants.

  “I have no . . . condoms,” he said. “What do we do?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said.

  He wanted her so badly, but how could he not worry about a thing like that?

  “Why not?” he asked.

  You idiot, she’s offering herself, don’t fuck this up.

  Clarissa flushed and pushed herself up onto her elbows. “I’ve been on starvation rations for over a year. Haven’t even had a period for ages, if you must know. And . . . I haven’t gotten pregnant, that whole time on the Tracks. So there you have it.”

  Trent felt overcome by sorrow at the reminder of what she’d been through.

  “Fuck. You’re frowning at me,” she said. “I knew a guy like you would think I’m disgusting.”

  “What? No!” Trent rolled to his side and lay next to her, stroking her hair. “Forget about all that. All that matters is right now. And I think you’re beautiful. There’s nothing about you I’d change.”

  “Not even my past? All those men?”

  “I’m sorry you went through that. But it doesn’t change this, right here.” He kissed her naked flesh, running his hands over the lines of her hips. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I still want you, if you’ll have me.”

  Clarissa smiled sadly. “I think I lost the moment. The mood.”

  “Maybe I can help get us back to where we were, before I opened my big mouth,” he joked. “Lie back. Relax.”

  Trent kissed her deeply, stroking her breasts, her nipples, making them harden into tight buds. When she moaned with pleasure, he kissed one tender tip, nibbling it until she gasped.

  “There you go,” he whispered, running his hand down between her thighs. Her pussy was wet, ready for him. But her mind had to be ready too.

  He rubbed gentle circles over her clit.

  “But I just came,” she breathed, but she didn’t move his hand. When he paused, she placed her own hand on top of his, and bucked her hips up to meet it.

  Her clit was so swollen, so sweet. Trent played with it until she moaned, turning her face into his shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure.

  “You’re incredible,” he smiled.

  She didn’t reply, but she reached down and grasped hold of his aching, too-hard cock, until he positioned himself at her entrance.

  “Okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes.”

  With a slow, careful thrust, Trent entered her, his cock stretching the walls of her tight pussy. He went as slowly as he could until he was fully seated inside her. Her muscles spasmed around him, and he bit his lip, holding back his own urge to come.

  “Oh my God,” he moaned, and he moved within her.

  They rocked together, their bodies fitting perfectly despite their size and height difference. Clarissa seemed like a beautiful, fragile girl beneath him. As much as he wanted to fuck her hard, he forced himself to move in and out gently.

  Her pale skin flushed the color of a pink sunset, her body quaking around him. With her climax, he couldn’t hold out any longer.

  “Fuck, Clarissa, is it okay if I . . .”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

  With her permission, Trent felt as if a dam had broken within him. He rammed into her, his entire body on fire with desire.

  Clarissa wrapped her thin arms around his neck and held on for the ride.

  * * *

  Clarissa moaned with pleasure beneath Trent. His body was rock hard, one arm gripping the top of the mattress for support. She could feel his triceps muscles flexing, as immovable as stone.

  And yet, she wasn’t afraid. It didn’t remind her of the times she’d felt trapped beneath a man on the Tracks, waiting for him to finish so she could eat.

  No, this was different. Better. Everything felt good. She wanted more of it, as much as she could take, as much as she could give.

  When he collapsed on top of her, panting, Clarissa smiled up at him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “You didn’t hurt me,” she said. “This was . . .” God, how to put it? How to explain to him that this moment together was the first step for her toward letting go of her past?

  “Thank you,” she finally said. “For everything.”

  Trent rolled over next to her and pulled her in close. “No, thank you.”

  The enormity of what they’d just done hit her in the afterglow.

  What did this mean, now? They were living together, but they barely knew each other. Would Trent expect her to have sex with him whenever he wanted to now?

  Was she okay with that?

  As much as she’d enjoyed herself, the idea of being expected to sleep with him every night worried her. After a long year of enslavement, she didn’t want to be beholden to any man.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She sighed. “We might have gotten ahead of ourselves here. Just because I knew Annie doesn’t mean you know me. And . . . we have a lot of work to do, if we’re going to get Annie and Evan and the rest out of Grand Central.”

  Trent frowned. “I know we have a lot of work to do.”

  “Maybe we should get to it.”

  Clarissa stood up and quickly dressed, tossing Trent his clothes. Within a minute, no one would ever have guessed what had just happened between them.

  It was if she’d erased it, out of fear for what it might mean for their future . . . and for her own independence.

  Upstate New York

  Emily and Mason’s cabin

  EMILY Rosen sat with her husband, Mason, and their nearest neighbor, Samuel, around the campfire outside their cabin in upstate New York. The radio was pure static.

  “Give it another few cranks,” Emily suggested, and Samuel shrugged but did it.

  “He’ll be on soon. That guy. He always is at sundown.”

  Sure enough, a man’s deep voice came through the tinny, hand-crank radio.

  Good evening, at least I hope it is, wherever you are. It is here, so far, the man, who’d called himself Trent on other broadcasts, said. Here’s the thing, my friends. If you believe in liberty, we need you now, more than ever.

  I worry that revealing our location will bring about things we don’t want here. The Army, for one. The government, or what’s left of it. FEMA. The UN. But I also worry that without you, whoever you are who hears this, we won’t be able to help people who truly need our help.

  “What does he mean?” Emily asked but quieted when the man on the radio spoke again.

  We have word from the camp at Grand Central, he said.

  “Oh my God.” Emily took Mason’s hand and squeezed it.

  She wished she could forget her time at Grand Central. Wished she could forget how she was forced to kill a man in self-defense, forced to flee for her life. Mason had been her saving grace back then, guiding her out of the city and into the woods, where they could be safe together.

  What did this man on the radio know about Grand Central?

  Our friends have been there and made it out, and I have to believe they made it out for a reason. They’ve told us that people are being abused there. Hurt. Tortured. Raped. That people are starving. That Colonel Lanche is not the great leader he’s been touted as being.

  “That’s an understatement,” Mason murmured.

  If you love liberty, if you can help, join us.

  The man on the radio paused. Hell, I’m
scared to death to say who we are, where we are. I have no idea who’s listening. But I’m going to put it out there, and pray to God that I’m not making a mistake.

  Because . . . I need to save my sister. She’s still there, still in danger.

  Follow the coast. Find us here, in Connecticut. Avoid the FEMA camps at all costs. They are not safe. Just . . . find us. Please. Signing off. Remember this if nothing else . . . live and Letliv.

  “He did it again,” Samuel said. “Said live and let live. It’s like his thing. I’m starting to think it’s code for something.”

  “We should go there,” Emily whispered. “He said ‘our friends have been there.’ Who? What if Jenna listened to you after all, Mason? What if she escaped, and found this place, this man?”

  “It could be anybody,” Mason argued. “We’re safe here. Why should we go to Connecticut . . . follow the coast, like he said?”

  “Because,” Emily said simply. “We believe in liberty. And that man, that town . . . they need people like us.”

  “Could be a trap,” Samuel said. He cranked the handle on the radio a few more times, but nothing came on.

  “Pretty elaborate set-up for a trap,” Emily argued. “He’s been updating us for months. We know they’re eating, fishing, that they haven’t had any deaths in a long time. They’re doing more than just surviving there. They’ve made a new life for themselves.”

  “So have we,” Mason said. “This is our life. Samuel’s right, they could have been infiltrated. Who’s to say that man wasn’t relaying that message with a gun to his head? To try and get all the rebels in one place?”

  “Or it could be—what if they’re planning on freeing the people at Grand Central?” Emily asked. “I want in on that. I do.”

  “No.” Mason stood, brushing off his pants, as if that ended the discussion.

  Emily pulled him aside, away from Samuel. “What if I were still there? Wouldn’t you want someone good to come help me, like you did?”

  “You’re not still there. You’re safe. If you go back, they’ll kill you. They almost did once.”

  Mason wrapped his muscular arms around her protectively, and she rested her head against his heart, listening to the steady thump.