Read Die For You: Catastrophe Series, Book 1 Online

Authors: Michelle Mills

Tags: #ménage;post-apocalyptic;bondage

Die For You: Catastrophe Series, Book 1 (19 page)

“You are?” He grinned.

“Yes.” She grabbed his hand. “Good news. We’re both sexual deviants.”

He squeezed her hand back and looked her right in the eye. “I’ve never been with a woman who I could be myself with sexually.”

She smiled softly and put a hand on his cheek. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

* * * * *

Rachel woke up in the middle of the night and pulled on Adam’s discarded T-shirt from the foot of the bed. Navy blue with the word
Marine
emblazoned across the chest. It fell to her thighs and smelled of him. It was hers now. If he wanted it back, he’d have to fight her over it.

Adam slept on his stomach, the sheet across his buttocks, the contours of his wide back visible in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. She silently padded to the bathroom, careful not to wake him, did her business and puttered around. Adam’s stuff was everywhere. Deodorant, shaving cream, razors, toothpaste, toothbrush. Neosporin? She shrugged and picked up a bar of soap and put it to her nose. Hmm…manly, like Old Spice.

“I love it,” she whispered to herself in the mirror.

Rachel put down the soap and glanced with bleary eyes at the scale sitting in the corner of the restroom. She’d avoided that judgmental contraption until now. Should she try it? Would it make her cry? She forced herself to walk forward and stepped tentatively onto the black surface, waiting for the digital readout with bated breath.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Finally, it stopped at 135.

Smiling, she blew out a breath. She weighed exactly the same as one week before her sister fell sick with Ruyigi. She hadn’t gained a single pound back. Maybe this would work. Maybe she would be able to trust herself to keep the weight off. She’d always been afraid she’d never be able to keep it off. Most people didn’t. But despite all the drama, all the hardship, she hadn’t reverted back to old habits. Besides, Adam would never allow her to lead an unhealthy lifestyle. He was the healthiest person she’d ever met. And it was rubbing off on her. Adam’s daily routine consisted of exercise and eating healthy foods to fuel his biological machine. She’d learned to follow many of his habits and liked how they made her feel. Liked how this new body responded like a sleek sports car to her slightest command.

She stopped and glanced at herself in the mirror, examining the young woman she saw there, the one with attractive eyes, clear skin, even features and thick hair. She’d always looked like that. It wasn’t as if she’d had plastic surgery. For once, she didn’t hate how she used to look, wasn’t disgusted when thinking of her old appearance. She realized it wasn’t that she’d been ugly before and had suddenly turned desirable now only because she’d lost weight.

A new thought rocked her world, and caused her to grab on to the counter, hit by a wave of sudden tears.

She’d always been desirable.

Wow.

She’d been pretty before and she was pretty now. Rachel repeated that to herself as tears burned behind her eyes. Pretty before and pretty now. She realized the only difference between the old Rachel and the new Rachel was her mindset. She was healthier, stronger now. Mind, body
and
spirit.

She took a deep breath and smiled at herself. Smiled at this new person she’d become.

Oh yes
—she thought as she flicked off the light—
this new Rachel is here to stay
.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next morning, Adam rose early to work in the barn with Christian.

“Gotta go,” he rumbled in her ear. Rachel groaned in protest. Hot, naked man detached, rolled over and got out of their bed. She cracked an eye open in time to catch him zip up and button his jeans.

What a waste.

Warm lips brushed against hers. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you at breakfast. Later we’ll go for a jog before I use the radio to broadcast again.”

For once, she didn’t bitch and complain about the exercise, because she liked it too and expected it now as a part of their morning routine. Instead, she followed his instructions and went back to sleep. Later, when her eyes fluttered open, the sunrise peeked through the blinds.

Rachel hauled herself out of bed, took a shower and got dressed. She towel dried her hair the best she could, not really caring if it was perfect because who was going to care? The hens? She brushed her teeth and pulled on protective shoes in preparation for walking in the chicken coop.

The back door squeaked open as she stepped out into the stillness of the morning. No horns honking, music blaring or people talking. All sounds of the city she used to enjoy, but were now gone. When she’d first arrived at the farm, the calm, unrelenting peace of it all had torn at her nerves, but lately she’d come to terms with it—the lack of human sounds in the environment. The lack of any sounds of additional human life at all. Sometimes the quiet was scary, freaky even, especially when they went into Fresno for supplies, but she’d learned to deal with it. She didn’t listen for airplanes anymore, or for car radios. Those things weren’t going to happen in this world. Not out here in the country.

Not anywhere.

Rachel soaked in the silence, broken only by the distant sound of a goat bleating. Her chest expanded and she inhaled the fresh scent of jasmine. A smile broke across her face.

Country air. Good stuff.

She walked over to the coop, barely avoiding getting scratched by the testy rooster.

“Get back,” she shouted, kicking at him. This was their morning routine. He attacked, she shouted, the rooster backed away, pinning her with beady bird eyes. “Men,” she muttered. “Don’t worry,” she said, the same line she gave him each morning. “I won’t hurt your precious hens. I’m just collecting the eggs. Chill. It’s okay.”

Rachel walked past the glaring eyes of the rooster and inside the coop, chatting with the hens as she gathered their warm eggs, carefully placing them in the apron she’d tied around her waist. She glanced down and laughed. Apron? Talk about looking so
Green Acres
, so
Little House on the Prairie
. With damp hair, no make-up, Daisy Duke-looking jean shorts, a tank top and floppy rubber boots, she certainly looked the part of country girl. Didn’t she?

If only her friends could see her now. They’d be roaring with laughter.

Friends?

She stopped, her breath stuck in her throat. Pain shot straight to her heart, like a hand had torn inside her chest and squeezed. She’d sell her soul right now for a girlfriend to confide in. Really, she would. The devil could appear with a contract, pen in hand, and she’d gladly sign it, sight unseen. It was difficult living with three men and not having a woman to talk to. No mother figure, no age-appropriate friend, no sister, no aunt. No other females whatsoever to confide in and commiserate with.

She trudged back to the kitchen, daydreaming about a different life—a life filled with long conversations, laughter and Mexican restaurants. She missed it so damn much.

The eggs went into a basket on the counter. Her seven hens had laid five eggs this morning. If she coupled that with the five from yesterday, this could turn into a good breakfast.

Now if only she could learn to cook and not ruin everything.

“You look like sex on a stick in those rubber boots,” a deep masculine voice said from behind her.

She jumped back against the counter and placed a hand over her heart. “My God, Trevor. You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you were outside.”

“Nope.” Trevor lowered his coffee cup.

He leaned against the counter, giving her one of his dazzling smiles. Blue eyes glimmered with good humor and a touch of mischief. There was no denying that Trevor was a handsome man, up there with
People
’s Sexiest Men. Over the last week, she’d grown comfortable in his presence. He was safe. Maybe not safe in his old life as a prison inmate, which still remained mainly a mystery considering he’d only given away bits and pieces. But she’d grown to trust him. Since that first day, he’d been a perfect gentleman. And not once had she ever gotten any weird vibes from him. In fact, Rachel noted she was genuinely glad to see him now. Trevor was fun to talk to. The banter was easy.

“I fixed the fence out on the east pasture faster than I thought, so I came back for a refill before heading out again. Also, I’m your designated plus one. Adam was working close by, but when he needed to go farther out, he asked if I could stick close and keep an eye on you.”

“Really?” she said with an arch of her eyebrow. “That’s your reason for being in the kitchen right before I’m about to cook?” She paused. “I wasn’t born yesterday, ya know.”

He laughed and put his hands up. “You caught me. I’m also here to help with breakfast.”

“Uh-huh. Just like I thought. Did they send you?”

He took another sip of coffee. Met her eyes over the rim of the cup. “Yep.”

“Shoot.”

“Rachel.”

“I’m trying,” she exclaimed. “Can’t you guys see that I’m trying? I want to learn how to cook.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“I’m reading all those cookbooks. Do you know how many books I’ve read on survival, on doomsday prepping, on how to cook like it’s the eighteen hundreds again?”

“I know.
We
know. But you need someone to—”

“Wait a sec,” she cut him off. “You can cook?”

“Don’t look so surprised, of course I can.”

“Ugh.” She rested her elbows on the counter and dropped her head in her hands. “Even the guy who recently got out of prison can cook better than I can,” she groaned. “This is pathetic.”

He moved closer. “My mom taught me a few things.” He smiled. “
Before
I went to prison.”

“Yeah, well, my mom was always dialing for take-out,” she answered. “I always meant to learn how to cook, but why? In my old life, I could go to any corner store, any restaurant and buy something to eat, pick up the phone and order food, and it would just appear, magically, twenty-four-seven.” She paused mid-rant, stared resentfully at the pantry and frowned. “But now I’ve got to learn how to stock up supplies, how to cook without perishables, well, except for eggs and milk, and how to feed three hungry men. Now I look at foods and ask myself, is this expired yet? How am I going to store this and keep it from expiring?”

They were both quiet for a moment, Rachel drumming her fingers on the counter. “Everything’s just totally different now,” she reiterated.

“I know,” he said gently.

“Okay, you can help me.” She blew out a resigned breath. “Maybe I do need help. I mean, I did burn the pancakes yesterday.”

It had been kind of funny. Adam, Trevor and Christian, all grimacing, doing their best to eat her frankencakes, as Trevor had called them. They must have gotten together this morning and decided enough was enough.

“And pancakes are supposed to be easy,” she admitted. “Okay, I need your help, Trevor. It’s true. But I have one condition. I don’t want you taking over this kitchen. I want this. I want to learn how to cook. This is going to be my new job.” She swept her arm out. “The garden, our food supplies, the hens, the cooking. You guys can do the animals, and take care of everything outside. The security, the energy, fix things. But I want this. I think I can be good at it if I just learn. I need a job. I need a reason to get out of bed every morning.”

He shook his head. “Rachel, I fucking hate to cook. I’ll teach you, then I’m out of here. Got it?”

“Got it.” She smiled. “But if you want something else to do, you can also help me clean the house and do the laundry.”

He looked scared. “Uh, thanks, but no thanks. I’ll stick to cleaning my own apartment and doing my own laundry.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, that’s right. Your apartment…”

After spending the first night in a bedroom with a twin bed, decorated with softball trophies and a
Star Wars
comforter set, Trevor had quickly decided to upgrade to larger quarters—namely, the apartment attached to the back of the enormous detached garage. Rachel had been there when Trevor had first seen it. Jeez, the way he’d acted, you’d think he’d just won the lottery or something. He’d already started filling the garage with classic mustangs.

Rachel’s gaze skittered away. She looked out the window as an uncomfortable silence settled between them. I mean, what did you say to a guy you knew had asked your boyfriend for a threesome with you? Awkward. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. Really, she needed someone to hand her a script.

Trevor put his coffee down and leaned in. “Rachel, I also asked Adam this morning if I could talk to you about what I suggested a few days ago. I need to talk to you about the ménage. Alone.”

She caught her breath.
Oh, hell.
Guess they weren’t avoiding it after all. She licked her lips. “Yeah?”

“I want you to know that this was my idea. Adam did not bring it up first. I told him I wanted a threesome where you two were the primary couple and I was an addition. This isn’t about me trying to break up your relationship with Adam. I see the way you look at him. I know he’s your man.”

She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut, not knowing what to say.

He stepped closer. “Do you want me to explain to you what it would be like?”

Her back was against the counter. She swallowed. “Um, okay.”

“Adam will be in charge. He will call all the shots.” He bent down, hot breath on her ear. “I’d fuck your pussy while I watch you suck Adam’s cock.”

Her eyes widened. Warmth bloomed between her thighs. The thought of that happening to her—not a story, or a movie, but real life—her stomach fluttered like she was teetering at the top of a roller coaster, about to rush down the other side into forbidden territory.

“Then I want to fuck your tight ass with Adam in your pussy, both of us fucking you at the same time. I want you screaming with pleasure. ”

Someone moaned.

Wait, was that her?

“How does it make you feel when I say that?”

“Hot and bothered.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “You’ve never done anything like that before, right?”

“Anal sex? Threesomes? Hell, no. I was a virgin until I met Adam, and all I’d ever imagined was plain vanilla sex. My last boyfriend couldn’t have found a clitoris with a map.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Trevor squeezed her hand. “We’ll make sure it’s good for you. This is about your pleasure. If anything makes you feel uncomfortable, all you’ll have to say is stop and it won’t happen. Even in the middle of it.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded.

“Listen—” he cupped her face with one hand and looked deep into her eyes, “—is this something
you
want?”

Rachel thought about it for a second. Was it? Was this Adam and Trevor’s fantasy, or hers too? She’d told Adam she wanted this. Was it true? The heat between her thighs and the wetness on her panties confirmed she wanted it too. Two sexy men making love to her at the same time, pleasuring her at the same time…a wave of delight ran through her womb, resulting in a smile she couldn’t hide.

“You
do
want it.”

“Yes.” She decided she’d have to be an idiot not to. “But what about afterwards? I don’t want it to be weird between us. I’m with Adam, and nothing is going to change that. Nothing.”

“Don’t worry. I was in a threesome before. I understand the boundaries, Rachel. Zero weirdness.”

“You’re sure?” she asked. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. What if it only happens once? What if it only happens a few times?”

“What it boils down to is that I’ll be thrilled with anything you give me. Understood?”

She smiled. “Understood.”

He took her hand. “Now, let’s go make some pancakes.”

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