Page 4 of Brood (After the End #5)

Men like to look at breasts. That’s what I’ve been taught. They’re more likely to get aroused if they can see them.

I pull my camisole off over my head and drop it with the rest of my clothes. My breasts aren’t huge, but they’re rounded, with rosy-tan nipples that tighten from the cool air in the room.

More of my hair has slipped out of the braid now. Frustrated, I pull it loose. I’ve started to rebraid it more neatly when Chief Will says, “Leave it.”

I take a shuddering breath, setting down my elastic and smoothing my hair. Not that it helps. It’s always been thick and wavy. It looks rumpled and messy if it’s not braided. I hope the gold lighting makes it look less white.

He’s doing more of that staring, his eyes focusing on my breasts, my legs, and my hair. It feels like a long time—but it’s probably just a couple of minutes—when he finally says, “Okay. Come over here.”

He’s still seated on the edge of his bed. I take several steps over until I’m standing in front of him.

Chief Will is the one who has had sex before. I never have. Because I was identified as a potential breeder after I had my first period, recreational sex was off-limits to me. I assume he’ll tell me the best way to do it.

My skin breaks out in goose bumps, and my cheeks are way too hot. I’m struggling to keep from trembling, and I’m standing directly in front of him when my breath catches in my throat with a weird, ragged sound.

His eyes shoot up to my face, and he frowns with his brows and his mouth. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not—”

“Put your clothes back on.”

I gasp and step backward, a flash of resentment overriding my nerves. “I’m a little nervous because I don’t know you and I haven’t had intercourse before. I’m not so scared that I can’t do this.”

His eyes dart down briefly to my breasts before they meet my indignant gaze. “We can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait. I’m fertile right now. I want to have sex so I can get pregnant. If you don’t want to do this, just say so. We can wait if you prefer. But that will be your choice. Not mine. Don’t you dare blame it on me.”

I sound far too bad-tempered because my emotions are spiraling defensively. It’s not a good way to begin this relationship. I know that much.

But what am I supposed to do with such a silent, frowning, difficult man?

He peers at me for another minute before he says, “Fine. Take off your underwear.” He reaches into the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a small bottle. He removes the cap and squeezes out some thick, clear liquid onto one of his hands.

He’s rubbing the liquid between his palms while I lean over to pull my panties down my legs and over my feet. I drop them near the rest of my clothes before I turn to face him.

He pulls me closer to where he’s seated. “Spread your legs.”

I do as he says, holding my breath as he touches between my thighs.

His hand is wet with the lubricant. He spreads me open and rubs the liquid everywhere, all over my outer lips, my clit, even back toward my bottom.

I gasp because it’s cool and unexpected, and I’m sensitive down there.

He checks my face.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Keep going.”

I’m not sure I’m fine. I’m having to struggle to keep my hands and knees from trembling. But I’m determined to do this, and so far it doesn’t feel bad.

Just weird.

I know how intercourse works, and the lubricant will make it easier.

He puts more of it on his hand and then draws me farther between his parted knees. He slides one finger and then two all the way inside my vagina, applying the lubricant and pushing against my inner walls.

It feels…surprising.

It stimulates me strangely.

He’s still watching my face, and I suspect if I flinch for any reason, he’ll stop and make us wait.

I don’t want that to happen. It would feel like a failure. Not only a failure of duty but also of my physical abilities.

Having intercourse is both natural and necessary for getting pregnant.

I can do this.

He’s still working his fingers in my vagina. Now he’s pumping more than pushing. It’s making me hot and breathless. It feels like I’m losing my balance. When I hear my fast breathing in the quiet room, I try to swallow it down.

After a minute, he slides his fingers out and uses the tips to rub my clit.

The sharp tug of pleasure takes me off guard. I make a silly whining sound and then flush in embarrassment.

He doesn’t react. He keeps rubbing until I’m so off-balance that I have to put a hand on his shoulder to brace myself. Then he penetrates me with his two fingers again, pumping the way he did before but faster now.

The sensations are building so quickly, I can’t keep up. I huff in time with his rhythm, unable to stay as quiet as I’d prefer. He uses his thumb to press into my clit again, and the pleasure breaks without warning. My vagina contracts around his fingers.

It feels so good, I drop my head back. A soft moan escapes my lips. I have to clutch at his shoulder to keep from falling.

I know about orgasms. I learned about them in school and read about them in books. But I’ve never had one until right now.

“Okay,” he says, when my internal muscles have stopped clenching and the sensations have leveled. “That was good. Now you can get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

He gets up as I climb onto the bed. I’m relieved that he approves of my performance so far and excited that my body is doing what it’s supposed to. I arrange myself on my hands and knees, looking over my shoulder at where he’s standing next to the bed. “Like this?”

He stares at my ass, which is pointed right at him. “Yes. That’s good. You ready for me to fuck you?”

I’ve read the word fuck in books before, but I’ve never heard anyone say it out loud. “Yes. I’m ready.”

I’m still watching him over my shoulder as he undoes his trousers and lets them drop to the floor, before stepping out and toeing them out of the way. Then he takes off his white underwear.

His lower body is as fit and attractive as his upper body. His penis is fully aroused. He finds the lubricant and squirts more out to rub all over his erection.

He draws my body closer to the edge of the bed where he’s standing. Then he positions my thighs so they’re farther apart. He uses one hand to hold one cheek of my bottom while he grips his erection with the other. I’m pulsing all over and holding my breath as he guides himself into my vagina.

Because of the lubricant, he slides in fairly easily, but it’s tight. Tighter than I expected. I make another silly whining sound that embarrasses me.

“Does it hurt?” he asks tersely.

“No. It’s fine.”

It does hurt. Not bad, but some. There’s no reason for him to know that, however.

My neck also hurts, so I stop looking back at him. I can’t see his face anymore, but his presence feels tense. Like there’s a lot of energy coiled inside him.

He adjusts his stance, shifting his penis inside me.

I gasp at the way it feels.

Then he starts to pump his hips, thrusting with tight, rhythmic moves.

“Is it okay?” he asks, sounding as breathless as I feel.

“Y-yeah.” I can’t seem to catch my breath. My body is rocking from the way he’s pushing into me, my breasts and my hair swaying messily. “Yeah. It doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s good.” He picks up his speed. Now every time he thrusts, his groin makes a slapping sound against my bottom. “You’re doing fine.”

Relief wafts over me, mingling with the physical sensations. It’s still uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt as much. And it’s so weird. Raw. Intense. And somehow vulnerable.

But it’s what we’re supposed to be doing, and I’m doing it okay.

I keep making those silly sounds. Stretched and high-pitched and softly helpless. I can’t help it, but Chief Will doesn’t seem to mind. He’s releasing low, steady grunts himself as he thrusts faster.

He’s gripping the flesh at my hips with both hands, holding me in place so he can really go at it. I can’t resist glancing back at him one more time, and I see something primitive in his eyes.

It makes me strangely proud.

He lets out a choked exclamation as his hips start jerking clumsily. He’s gasping loudly and grinding his hips against me as he ejaculates.

I feel several spurts of his semen. Each one fills with me more satisfaction.

When he’s finished, I get worried about it leaking out and down my thighs, so I lower my head and shoulders to the bed in the hopes of holding it better inside me.

Chief Will pulls out, giving my bottom several firm little pats. “You did good.”

“Thank you.” I’m smiling with one cheek resting on the bedding. “Is it staying in?”

“I think so.” He uses his fingers and pushes against my entrance, like he’s making sure his ejaculate doesn’t leak out.

Then he goes to the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush and water in the sink. When he returns, his beard and the edges of his hair are damp.

I’m still holding the same position.

“I think you’re safe to get up now,” he says. “Go back to your bed.”

I do as he says, lying down on my back with my knees bent up. “Maybe we’ll get pregnant right away.”

“Maybe.” He pulls his underwear back on and climbs into bed.

I don’t move for a long time until I can’t wait any longer to pee. I go to the bathroom and clean myself up, then return to my bed to climb under the covers.

“Good night,” I tell him, settling myself comfortably as he turns off the lights.

“Good night.”

And that’s it. We’ve done our duty, and it wasn’t too bad. I’m kind of sore, but it’s definitely manageable.

I close my eyes, hoping his sperm is doing its job inside me.