Chapter 434: The Boardwalk’s Screamer [6] [R-18 Contents!]

"R...Ryan."

Her soft voice pulled me back around.

Carmen sat on the edge of the mattress, shoulders tight, both hands gripping the sheets on either side of her hips. Tears still shone on her lashes, but her mouth was set in quiet resolve. The torchlight from the shelf painted her in warm gold and deep shadow. Even pale and shaking, even with blood drying in a dark track down her arm, she looked like something that did not belong in a dying house, high cheekbones, the long crushed-wheat fall of her hair, the soft heavy curve of her breasts under the thin apricot silk, the thick pale thighs pressed together beneath the hem.

I crossed to her.

"You should probably lie down," I said.

She nodded and scooted backward, folding her knees up, bare feet sliding over the sheet until she lay with her head on the pillow. The dress rode up her thighs as she moved. I stood at the foot of the bed and unbuckled my belt with fingers that wanted to shake. The leather whispered. I shoved my jeans and underwear down together; the cool air of the room touched my cock as it hung limp against my thigh. I climbed onto the mattress on my knees, the bed dipping under my weight, and settled between her legs.

Carmen stared at the ceiling. Her chest rose and fell too fast under the silk. A soft, uneven sound escaped her throat, half breath, half whimper.

Who could blame her.

I edged forward. She parted her thighs wider without being asked, the soft inner flesh brushing my hips. The dress bunched at her waist now, the fabric rucked high enough that I could see she wore nothing underneath. A neat thatch of darker blond curls sat above a plump, pale cunt, the outer lips already slightly parted from the way her legs were spread. Beside the bed, a scrap of light-blue cotton underwear lay discarded on the floor where she must have slipped it off while my back was turned.

"We should hurry," she whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word.

"Yeah." I rested my right hand on her right knee, feeling the fine tremble under the skin, and pushed the dress higher until it pooled around her waist like spilled cream. "I’m touching you."

"Hm." She closed her eyes. Another soft sound slipped out of her, small, nervous, almost a moan.

I shifted until my knees pressed the insides of her thighs open. My left hand wrapped around my cock and stroked once, twice, trying to force blood into it. Nothing. It stayed soft and useless in my fist. Stress, fear, the memory of every promise I had ever made about not destroying what good was between us, all of it sat like ice in my gut.

"Ryan..." .

"J...Just a minute." I stroked harder, breath turning ragged. The dry friction burned. Outside, something slammed into the door hard enough to make the whole frame jump. Carmen flinched; a tiny, frightened "nh—" escaped her lips.

Come on, damn it.

I had been on edge all day and now my body was failing me when it mattered most. My heartbeat surged. Stress climbed higher. Old memories flooded in without mercy, the Screamer, Jasmine’s death, Jason’s death, echoes of the same helpless buzzing screams. It was happening again. My head throbbed with them.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus while I kept working my hand.

"Ryan."

When Carmen called my name I opened my eyes. She had pushed herself up onto her elbows, watching me.

"S...sorry. I just feel... tired," I managed.

"I’ll help you," she said before I could protest.

She rose onto her knees on the mattress, reached out, and took my cock in her hand. The sudden warmth of her soft palm wrapping around me made me gasp. She began stroking, slow at first, then steadier, her grip gentle but sure.

"I’m older than you," she murmured. "You shouldn’t feel like you have to lead here."

"Yeah," I breathed.

Under her touch the blood finally answered. My cock thickened and hardened inside her palm until it stood stiff and heavy. She released me after a moment and looked up, awkward.

"Is that enough...?"

"Yeah. It’s fine." I took myself in hand, the shaft now fully hard and hot against my fingers.

Carmen lay back again, folding her knees up. I grasped one thick thigh, lifted it, and pressed the swollen tip of my cock against her dry slit. A small, sharp gasp left her; she quickly pressed her lips together, bracing.

I pushed forward.

"Hmmh—!"

The sound was muffled, pained. Her body resisted. She was tight, almost painfully so, and completely dry. I gritted my teeth and kept going, forcing the head past her entrance with a slow, steady pressure.

The lack of wetness made every inch a rough, burning slide.

"Hmphhnn...! Ah—Ryan—"

Another stifled whimper escaped her as I sank more than halfway in. Her walls clenched hard around me, too tight, too unready. I groaned under my breath at the intense dry heat gripping my cock and forced myself to stop, buried deep, hips shaking.

"Hhhnn...easy..." I muttered. "Just breathe."

"I’m—nnh—trying—" Her hands flew up to grip the pillow on either side of her head, knuckles white. "You’re—ah—big—wait, wait—"

I stayed still for a few seconds, giving her time even though every second felt dangerous. The door shuddered again under another heavy impact. Outside, the Infected scraped and moaned through the wood.

"I’ve got you," I said. "Tell me when."

She nodded fast, eyes squeezed shut. A few ragged breaths. Then: "O...okay. Move. Just... slow. Haaa...please—"

I pulled back halfway and thrust in again, slower. The friction was still rough—her walls clung tight—but the second stroke drew another sound from her throat, higher this time.

"Nnh...! Haa—"

She turned her face to the side, mortified, cheeks burning red even in the torchlight.

Damn it, this was never going to end like this.

I am sorry, Carmen.

I spat into my palm, reached between us, and rubbed wetness over where we joined, over the swollen pearl of her clit, gentle circles while I held still inside her.

"Oh—! Ryan—what are you—"

"Helping." I kept rubbing. "Let your body catch up because.... That’s it—ah, fuck, I feel you fluttering—"

"Don’t—nnh—say that—ahh—"

A thin slickness started to form around my cock, just enough to take the worst of the burn away. I eased the rest of the way in with a low grunt until my hips met hers and I was buried to the hilt. Carmen’s body went rigid, then trembled.

"Nnh...!" She widened her eyes in shock.

"I know. I’ve got you. Breathe."

I set a steady rhythm, hips rolling forward. Each one sank deep. The dry slide gradually eased as her body responded despite her embarrassment. Carmen’s muffled whimpers softened, the pained edge fraying into something wetter and more helpless.

"Hnh... ah... ah—"

Soft sounds slipped out between her parted lips no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. Her thick thighs trembled against my sides. I felt her starting to catch up, inner walls twitching, then slowly relaxing around me, more slick gathering with every stroke until the slide turned filthy and smooth.

"Mm... nnh... haa... Ryan—"

The whimpers turned into low, involuntary moans, still quiet, still restrained, but impossible to stop. Her hips gave the smallest, almost unconscious shift to meet one of my thrusts before she caught herself and forced her body still again.

"You don’t have to hold still," I rasped. "You can move to make it easier and faster."

"I—ahh—I’m not—nnh—I shouldn’t sound like this—"

I picked up the pace. The bed creaked. Wet sounds of our bodies grew louder in the small room, mixing with the clawing at the door.

"Hmmm—! Nnh—haa—ah—ah—"

Her hands twisted tighter in the pillow. Her breathing broke into little gasps every time I bottomed out. Looking at her breasts moving under her dress, I reached out and grasped one of them through her dress.

"Haaahn—!"

The cry tore out of her raw and shocked. Her back arched.

"That’s it—ah, fuck, Carmen—you feel so good..." I let out unable to hold back.

"D...Don’t—Haaan...hmmmphh...nooo..."

I gave her harder. Hooked my hands under her knees and folded her open wider, driving deep. She came apart in pieces, first a long shaking moan, then her cunt clamping down in hard rhythmic pulses, then a sharp cry she tried to muffle against her wrist and failed.

"I’m—I’m coming—haaahn—Hmmnnhhh—!"

"Fuck...me too!"

Watching her finish, feeling her milk me, ripped my own orgasm up from the base of my spine. I buried myself to the hilt and spilled into her in thick pulses, groaning into the side of her neck, hips jerking through it while she clung to me and whimpered with every spurt she felt.

We stayed locked like that, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. Outside, something heavy scraped down the hall and moved on. The door held.

I lifted my head. Carmen’s eyes were wet again, but her mouth had softened into something dazed and open. A small aftershock shivered through her and she moaned weakly around it.

"I...is it over..."

"Yeah," I brushed crushed-wheat hair off her forehead with my thumb. "You okay?"

"I think..." She squeezed around me once, and another soft sound slipped out of her—"hhmm..."—as she felt me still half-hard inside her. "Stay. Just a minute. Please."

I just nodded.

Maybe after fear and whatever that had taken her these past minutes she just needed some warmth. And I was very well placed to understand that.