Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1) (7 page)

“There’s a lot of stress to living these days,” Em said gently, stopping to face Oakley. “This is old-school release of the stress. Of all the things we used to enjoy in life before the bombs, this is the only thing that still exists. The only way to remind yourself you’re alive.”

With that they were off again, walking amidst coupling bodies with no compunction for privacy. She couldn’t help but stare. Everyone one looked it was unbridled, primitive displays.  Even Brit was out there, her arms wrapped a man’s shoulders, her legs tight around his waist. Her back was to the shipping container, the movement of the man’s hips leaving no question about what was happening. And Brit’s eyes were cast upwards, mouth open, as a scream ripped free of her. It certainly wasn’t a scream of pain.

Another loud bellow brought her around in the other direction, and she was bright pink in the time it took her to realize the blonde man from before had obviously forgotten all about her. A girl named Maggie was on her knees in front of him, his hands twisting up her hair as he pushed against her mouth with his generous-sized…Ahem. Her eyes came up to his face, and he was staring at her again. Even with another woman doing…
that
, he looked her up and down, biting his lip again before throwing his head back and hollering.

She stared, she would fully admit it. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, he was so beautiful. When it was done, he lowered his head, mouth still hanging open, to meet her gaze again.

This time Oakley led
Em
away from the scene. Her face was blazing, and rather than being mad she was warm. All over.

Once she was convinced all was well, Em led her back to the school doors. “Okay, head on up and get some rest before supper.” Her smile was sly. “I feel the need to maybe live a little too.”

“What? Really?”

Em shrugged, backing away while shrugging. “It’s been a while, Oakley. Head on up. I’ll be fine.”

Before Oakley could reply she was aware of people approaching from the opposite direction. Jo was smiling wide, along with May. Between them was a man with long medium-brown, sun-streaked hair dressed head to toe in desert camouflage. His goggles were pushed up on his forehead, revealing bright blue eyes. As the others had, his cast his study up and down her form without hiding it. She felt the same flutter she had when Stone had done it. This man was unbelievably handsome, and she knew who he must be before Jo spoke.

“Oakley, this is Harley. He’s the Young Bloods’ commanding officer. Harley, this is Oakley. We found her a week ago.”

“Oakley, huh?” His voice was a deep, rich baritone that wrapped her up warmly. When he took her hand she nearly jumped out of her skin. He caught the reaction and she was again assaulted, this time by a dazzling smile that brought out a dimple in one cheek.

“Yes,” was her lame reply, since someone had to say something.

“Is she really that good of a shot?”

May shrugged, giving Harley a not-too-friendly sideways glance. “Too good for it to have been luck.”

“Interesting.” His eyes went up and down her again, still not releasing her hand. “You got any other special skills Oakley?”

“No,” she answered, not entirely sure she knew what he was asking.

When he laughed in that hearty, male fashion she got what he was asking and her cheeks felt like they’d grown pinker. “Well, if you need anyone to teach you something, come find me.”

She swallowed, then looked down at her feet and headed back into the school.

In the room she was sharing with Em she collapsed onto the cot, staring up at the ceiling. Her blood still felt hot, and she wondered again at what Em had said. How sex was something that reminded them all that they were still alive.

If alive meant mortified and uncomfortable, then yes she had to agree. While she knew she’d been protected from the worst excesses of the human condition she couldn’t equate all that frenzied fucking as anything other than terrifying.

But looking back, no one wasn’t enjoying themselves. There was no struggle, no force. Everyone was absolutely willing and enthusiastic. Much like the women in that room of pleasure the other night, the night that had admittedly awoken something in her.

As handsome as Harley might have been, it was still Stone’s eyes that took all her recollection of the past hour. The heat in them was enticing, and even watching him with someone else hadn’t changed that. No, she’d watched the way he was tensed and nearly at the mercy of the woman on her knees, just from how good he must have been feeling. His arms and chest had been strained, the vein in each bicep popped out, his neck strained under his beard. And his eyes on her…

Oakley shuddered. She knew what he’d been thinking; he’d been imaging it was her pleasuring him. She just knew it. As unlikely as this fast attraction was, it was strong. Apparently lust could be instant and intense.

And if she wanted to, she could have sex with Stone. She was perfectly within her rights to offer it. She held dominion over her own body. But what would that be like? She couldn’t see it being tender or caring. No, Stone would be rough, fast, hard, and overwhelming.

Her hand fluttered on the center of her chest. She wanted that, but was she brave enough? She didn’t think so. It was just a fantasy.

Oakley’s hand brushed over her own breast, and she nearly moaned out loud but bit her lip instead. Her legs rubbed each other, the thoughts in her head making her body clench low, ache with need. When she closed her eyes she imagined a large body looming over her, pressing her legs to the side out of his way, pressing her hands to the cot over her head and shoving his way inside of her roughly.

As the image played through her mind Oakley’s hand moved lower, fingers pressing between her legs over the dungarees she’d been loaned. It was good, but not good enough. She shoved her hand down the front and into her underwear, fingers seeking out the spot that was torturing her with its burning ache.

Her clit was overly sensitive, and as her finger slid over it she bit her lip harder, back bowing. Further down she felt the wetness that her body had issued forth, and she dipped two fingers into it before returning to her clit. With soft circles she brought herself to a silent orgasm, intense enough that fighting to keep quiet was a painful battle. But she accomplished it, her heart pounding loudly in her own head. She was out of breath and embarrassed, but no one was around. It was just her…her and the memory of that big body she was inexplicably hungering for.

Chapter Six

The men were leaving in two more days, which meant it was all downhill until they were finally out of her line of sight. Oakley had nothing against any of them; it was just their loud presence and blatant ogling. And while no one had laid a hand on her in all that time, she was anxious for them to move on.

Although, to her own mind, only one of them she was ready to see the last of. And it wasn’t for unpleasant reasons. She just couldn’t concentrate when Stone was around.

His nickname was perfectly suited to him. When he stared at her, his face didn’t move. If he was in her way, he made her go around him, immoveable. But there was heat in his eyes at all times when he was looking for, and it only made her nervous because she was worried that heat could catch and consume her.

She was too timid to do anything about the attraction so she tried to avoid him, never initiating contact. However, it seemed to have the opposite effect of what she’d hoped. He knew she was avoiding him, he knew he made her uncomfortable in a very exciting way, and he seemed to take delight in torturing her.

The second day they’d been there he’d started this tactic. He’d learned her name—she had no idea who had told him—but he knew it out of nowhere and was quick to remind her of it.

She’d been tasked with bringing them soap the day after the arrival feast and the orgy that followed. She had clean towels, too, and they were all in a large basket that she was carrying out towards their camp. The wind was dead so it was all dust-free by the time she was able to set it down on a foldable picnic table set up by the tent that she knew to be Harley’s. It was almost like their head office. Just as the basket was being set down the tent flap opened and Harley stepped out, arms out to the sides as he stretched his back. He was naked to the waist, and his fatigue-style pants weren’t buttoned closed. And he knew she was staring.

“Um, May said to bring soap and towels. For…for the men,” she stammered, hearing the break in her voice all the while knowing she was blushing.

“That was mighty kind,” Harley drawled in that accented tone, stepping forward and picking up a bar of the handmade soap. He brought it close to his nose and she watched with fascination while he breathed in the scent. “This smells nice. Is this what
you
smell like, Oakley?”

She swallowed, aware he was asking a question but unable to answer because his blue eyes were boring into her. Oakley was saved having to answer by the tent flaps once again parting to let out a woman that Oakley could never remember the name of and Abby. And Brit.

Her eyebrows went high as the three women gave her a smile then went on their way back to the commune like they’d been out for a stroll. Her startled eyes came back to Harley and he was outright grinning. “See? We got the place to ourselves now. What do you say?”

“No thank you,” she muttered and turned, intended to outright sprint to get away from him. Charming and charismatic, yes. But even with all that he didn’t measure up to the heat she felt for the man she immediately, literally, ran right into.

She
bounced
off the wall of Stone’s chest, nearly falling. He caught her easily by the arm, keeping her from hitting the ground on her ass. And in one swift move he had his arm around her lower back. The suddenness startled her.

“Oakley, isn’t it? You all right, sweetheart?”

Oh no, he wasn’t getting to her with false concern.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Look spooked there, Little One.”

“I’m fine. Please let me go.”

When he grinned her knees buckled a bit but he tightened his hold on her back. Lord, had he
felt
her literally get weak in the knees? “I could carry you back if you like.”

She braced with both hands and pushed at his expanse of chest but he was solid. She couldn’t budge him. Yet, she didn’t feel fear. She wasn’t scared he would hurt her in any way. She was just really pissed that he was teasing her.

“Let go of me,” she growled, and then did the only thing she could think to do. She grabbed one of his peaked nipples (wasn’t difficult to locate it, they were both hard and his T-shirt could barely contain anything), and twisted.

With a bellow he let her go and she darted around him, sprinting to get back to the safety of the doors. But when she got there she looked back. He’d stopped following her about fifteen yards from the doors, and he was grinning. It was beautiful even from this far away, and she suddenly didn’t need to get inside and away from him anymore.

He raised one hand and pointed at her, eyebrow cocked, grin still in place. “You fight dirty, Little One.” His hand dropped back to his side, casual. “Good for you.”

Then he turned and sauntered off. She ignored the rolling muscles of his back, the tight fit of the seat in his jeans. Okay, ignored was likely inaccurate. She
hated
how attractive even the back view of him was.

Since then it had been little inappropriate comments, said quietly so only she could hear. Every time she was near enough he’d lean in and ask if she wanted to know how his nipples were doing. Was there anything else she wanted to give a good tug? His eyes sparkled, but she rarely saw that smile return. And he didn’t touch her again, either.

It might have been less annoying if she hadn’t felt so incredibly attracted to him. No, that wasn’t it. It was fine that she was attracted to someone. She wished she wasn’t so goddamn scared of him, scared of her strong physical reaction.

What if she’d never been with a man before? The girls guessed she was around 23 or 24, it was hard to be certain. But what if she
was
a virgin? She didn’t think so, but there were no stored memories of that milestone being breached. For all intents and purposes, she
was
one now, aside from that brief tryst with Coral. And that was a lot of drama to put on a guy. Especially this type. Even if they didn’t rape and murder and pillage, she couldn’t trust one of them enough to tell them all this about herself. Why she might appear shy or scared, despite how her body was reacting.

So two more days, then she’d have time to think things through, discover more about herself, and have the other women she was getting to know better around to ask questions. With the men around most had taken to spending the majority of their time outside the compound. Em had only trained with her once in the past four days. Oakley desperately wanted the structure of a schedule.

So just two more days, that’s all they needed to get through. But then that night came the oddest request from Jo.

“Stone’s working on his bike, he’s having trouble. He won’t be joining everyone for supper.” The women handed over a tray loaded with food, her eye twinkling. “Bring this to him.”

Oakley looked at the tray, then back at Jo. “Why? Why me?”

Jo lowered the tray, sighing. “Because he likes you, Oakley. There are only two more nights then the guys are gone. Every time they leave they go off to war. They deserve something nice to remember, and so do we.” She nodded encouragingly. “Just bring it to him. I see how he looks at you. He might be just as scared as you are.”

Oakley laughed. “Trust me, he isn’t scared.”

“Scared of how beautiful you are. Or how innocent you appear. I’ve known Stone for a while. He’s a good man, one of the best out there. You won’t regret it.”

Oakley took the tray, compelled by the way Jo said that. “What have you seen?”

They weren’t supposed to ask that but she couldn’t help it.

“I’ve seen happiness for you, Oakley. Now go and take this to Stone. He’s in the garage. Alone.”

Strangely, Jo’s premonition eased her. She nodded and turned for the stairwell, picking her way in the dim light down the steps and outside. It was already dark, the sky lit with a million points of light. Her skin tingled as a cold breeze picked up. Everything seemed immediate, real, and surreal at the same time.

Or maybe Jo was just getting to her.

It wasn’t hard to find the garage on such a clear night. Along the way she heard evidence of more merriment taking place within the canvas tents, nowhere near as lewd as it had appeared that first night. Or perhaps she was growing accustomed to it.

The garage seemed like it used to store tractors, but she had no idea how she would’ve known that. It was a Quonset, a curved roof that met the ground on both sides with a heavy sliding door at one end big enough for machinery to pass through. Set in the door was a smaller one big enough for a person to fit. That was the one she used.

One part of the garage was brightly lit, so she headed that way and paused just outside the ring of light, taking him in. Stone was sitting on those roller things that mechanics used, his knees high in front of him because he was so tall, elbows on knees with hands hanging down. His brow was pulled down in concentration, glaring at the heap of metal in front of him. He might have started out in coveralls, but the top had been pushed off his torso and he was down to the skin on his chest, back, and arms. The coveralls bunched at his waist.

Oakley couldn’t avert her eyes. Out of manners and courtesy maybe she should, but he was so…
large.
Imposing. And yet she felt no intimidation being in this room with him.

“What? My face dirty or something?” He barked out the first word, but the rest sounded as though he was amused by her.

“They told me to bring you dinner,” she said, hearing the nerves in her own voice. He likely thought she was scared, but she wasn’t.

She was just…interested.

“Did they?” he asked, reaching for another heavy metal item from the table behind him before turning back to the hulking motorcycle in front of him.

She looked down at the tray in her hands, feeling stupid. “If you’re not hungry—”

“Bring it over here,” he interrupted, jerking his head towards the work bench. “I’ll get to it in a second. I don’t want to lose my train of thought.”

She carried the bowl of thick stew and the slices of bread to the flat service he indicated, pushing a few items out of the way to make room. When she turned back she was once again struck mute by his size, and now by the colorful artwork completely covering his back. There was a set of angel wings colored in unlikely tones of bright green and a deep, blood red. In the center though, the image did not suggest anything like an angel. It was a fearsome-looking serpent with blood red scales, breathing fire across the small of his back. The eyes were icy-blue, and she shivered because it seemed as though they were looking at her, knowing what she was thinking.

And
what
was she thinking? She almost didn’t admit it to herself, but at the sight of his bare torso under its sheen of sweat and dirt she was warm everywhere with an unsettled urge in her to touch him. And have him touch her, too.

Oakley must have stood staring far too long, because he shot her a look over his shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing,” she sputtered, heading for the door. Her face felt hot and she felt ridiculously stupid all of a sudden. All she knew was she had to get out of the garage.

“Oakley.” His voice stopped her, and she turned not five steps from the bike, fighting to appear composed. Or so she hoped.

“Yes?”

He was watching her, head tilted. He got up with a quick surge, his height making her skin break out in chills like it had outside. He stopped three strides from her. “You scared of me, Little One?”

She took the time to swallow, hoping to get rid of any nervousness in her voice. “No.”

“That’s good.” He moved forward another step. “Every time I see you you’re running away from me, though.”

“You say things that make me uncomfortable.”

He frowned. “I do?”

She just nodded, then he took another step.

“When have I done that?”

“You keep asking about your nipples, for one thing.”

Now she got the smile, and with him this close it did nothing for the spine she was trying to grow. “You started it, Little One. I assumed you liked them.”

“I asked you to let me go, you wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t say please.”

“You didn’t let me go.”

The smile slipped a bit. “Sorry, honey. Everyone teases. I thought you were playing with me.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I wanted you to let go of me.”

Now he took two steps in the opposite direction and she felt the loss of heat. Or maybe it was disappointment that he was pulling back. “I meant nothing by that, Oakley. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have ever forced you or hurt you, though. You gotta believe that.”

“I do,” she replied, feeling pleased that he took her seriously now. “I’m still very new to all this. It doesn’t matter to me how everyone else behaves. I’m just…uncomfortable. Most of the time.”

He had walked back to the work bench, now he turned to her and leaned against it with both hands gripping the edge, arms wide. Oh god, the span of those shoulders, the thickness of his arms, the sheen of sweat on him, the tribal pattern done entirely in red that stretched from his collarbone onto his pecs, the way the coveralls were drooping to show the line of dark blond hair under his bellybutton…