Page 7 of Tower (Post-Apocalyptic Fairy Tales #1)

I wake Levi up an hour later after hesitating for fifteen minutes because I’m torn between worry about waking him up unnecessarily and worry about letting him sleep through dinner.

To my relief, he wakes up easily and isn’t angry or even unusually grumpy. He shakes himself off, saying he’s surprised he slept so long and that we better get down to dinner.

Everyone is staring again as we walk into the dining room. I try not to fidget with my hair or the neckline of my top.

Levi makes a beeline for his chair at the big table, and I go back to the kitchen area, having already resolved, based on what he said earlier, that I’ll plate up his food myself for every breakfast and dinner.

Dinner is some sort of stew—venison, I’m guessing, with some root vegetables from the Nelsons’ farm.

It looks decent and there’s not any way to significantly improve it.

So I grill up his bread instead of tearing off a chunk like everyone else gets and ladle out his stew into a bowl, inspired to take a few strips of grated carrot from the cutting board and forming cute little rosettes out of them to place in the bowl.

I’m pleased with my attempts as I carry the food over to Levi, setting it on the table in front of him.

There’s a little murmur from the table as everyone sees how nice his meal looks.

Levi makes no indication of appreciation at all. Just picks up his spoon and starts to eat.

I hesitate behind him, unsure what I’m supposed to do now. There are other women at the big table, which there weren’t at breakfast. And the seat next to him is empty. Is that for me? Or should I lurk behind him like I did at breakfast, ready to jump to wait on him?

Levi solves my problem by yanking the chair next to him out from the table and gesturing toward it. He’s not even looking at me, but I know what he means.

I hurry to sit next to him.

In less than a minute, a young man I haven’t yet met has brought me over my stew and bread.

That evening, after I go to the bathroom and wash up in the tent, I return to the room and change into another little nightgown. This one is lavender cotton knit with cap sleeves and a loose cinch under my breasts.

I’m waiting by the door to unbar it when Levi knocks about fifteen minutes later. He’s carrying the same battery-operated lantern he used yesterday.

As he steps into the room, I climb onto the bed, sitting instead of lying down.

He stares at me for several seconds from the doorway before he locks and bars the door.

“What?” I finally ask when he keeps staring from the other side of the room.

“No one should be so fuckin’ pretty,” he says gruffly. “Turns us all into weak-willed saps. Let down your hair.”

Despite his tone, I understood the words to be a compliment. I’m flushing yet again as I undo the clip I used to twist up my hair when I was washing earlier. I meant to take it out earlier and forgot.

“Shit,” Levi breathes out as my hair falls down over my shoulders and back.

He blows out the candle I lit (since I don’t have a lantern or flashlight) and sets the lantern on his nightstand. Then he strips off his clothes, everything except his underwear, and climbs onto the bed.

After a brief hesitation, he lies down on his back, staring at me as I sit on folded legs.

When he gestures toward my gown, I pull it off over my head.

His eyes immediately drop to my breasts and then farther to the cleft between my thighs.

I can’t help but like the way his expression heats up as he stares at me.

He’s already getting hard. Quicker than yesterday. And even I’m feeling some tingles of excitement between my legs. Mostly from his responses.

“You wanna climb on top?” he asks.

I move over, straddling his hips a little lower than his groin. Then I move my hands to my breasts and fondle them the way I did yesterday. I need to get wetter, and he obviously likes to watch.

“Jesus Christ.” He stares as I tweak my nipples. “Rub your clit too.”

I slide one hand down and open myself up so I can rub circles on my clit as I caress one breast with my other hand. I drop my head and part my lips, hoping he’ll find it hot but also because I actually feel hot. Sexier than I’ve ever experienced before.

He shifts his hips slightly beneath me. His erection is tenting the fabric of his boxers. His breathing has really picked up.

So has mine. I keep rubbing until my urgency suddenly surges forward, pleasure coalescing with a quick little orgasm that takes me by surprise. I gasp and shake through it briefly.

He watches the whole thing, and as soon as I’ve relaxed again, he pulls his hard cock out of his underwear and motions for me to get on it.

I raise myself up and scoot forward enough to align ourselves. He holds his cock in place and helps me line up as I lower myself on him, taking the substance of him inside me.

I’m wetter than yesterday, and it’s more comfortable. It takes only a little wriggling for me to settle around the penetration.

I’ve never been a big fan of being on top. In all truth, I’ve never wanted the responsibility. But he clearly likes the looks of me right now. His eyes never glance away.

A thrill of excitement runs through me that I never would have expected. It’s centered in my chest rather than my pussy, but my pussy is doing just fine right now, clinging to the thick substance of his cock.

But I’m still stuck here, my legs splayed on either side of his hips and naked to the motionless air of the room. This man is still mostly a stranger, and I have no idea what he wants me to do right now.

Asking for instructions isn’t the way to show myself as a sexy, confident woman who is worth all the trouble he’s gone to for me.

But it would sure help. I’m in decent shape.

I started yoga classes in high school and was regular at sessions all through college and the part of the year I had in grad school before the world collapsed.

And even after Impact, I improvised yoga routines on my own to help me stretch and relax.

If he wants any particular position or move, I can probably manage it, but I don’t have enough experience in being on top to come up with ideas on my own.

I lean forward slightly, and my hair slides to hang over my chest.

Levi reaches over to gather it all in his big hand so he can see my breasts again.

“What do you like?” I ask, finally coming up with something semi-okay to say.

“Whatever you do, girl, is gonna be hot as hell to me.” He shifts again, this time pumping his hips up into me just slightly.

It’s a nice sentiment. Who would deny that? But it frustrates me anyway because I was hoping for some specific direction here.

But the small pump is a clue at least. I test out a basic up-and-down motion, pleased when he huffs and bucks up against me in response.

Fine. Stick to basics. That will make it easier.

Feeling kind of silly, I start to ride him in a no-frills way, using my thighs to lift and lower myself on his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, letting go of my hair and reaching over to hold on to my hips as I move. “That’s right.”

Excited that he approves of my unpracticed attempt at being astride, I keep going, speeding up and then deciding it’s too rapid and slowing down again.

He’s breathing fast and loud now, his fingers clenched in the soft flesh on either side of my bottom. He jerks his head to the side. “Shit, girl, you’re killin’ me here. You gotta keep it steady.”

It’s ridiculous, irrational, since I was hoping for instructions earlier, but my first response is defensiveness. He was the one who wanted me on top after all. I’m doing my best here.

Flushing even hotter than I was before, I shift into a medium speed and hold it as I keep riding him. Almost immediately he starts pumping his hips, matching my rhythm.

He lets out a thick breath and turns his head back to stare at me, his eyes moving between my face and my jiggling breasts. “That’s it. That’s better. Now you got it. Just like that.”

I’m still a little pissed but also embarrassingly excited by the words. We move together, and I can definitely feel the effects of the friction in my pussy. My body is liking it. I’m too distracted to come, but I’m wetter now. I can hear the suction as we move.

Levi starts grunting, a rough, soft sound every time he pushes up. The muscles of his jaw and abdomen are working visibly. He’s totally focused on what we’re doing. On me . “Faster now,” he huffs after a few minutes. “You’re doin’ real good.”

I’ve started sweating, although it’s not particularly warm in the room.

I’m panting as loudly as Levi is, but it’s not from the physical exertion.

I ride him faster, levering my hips up and then down in a repeated move that slides his cock inside me.

I don’t have any idea what to do with my hands, so I’ve got them flattened on my thighs.

“Fuck. That’s good. Just like that. Look at you go.”

He is looking at me. At this moment, he’s specifically staring at how my breasts are bouncing from the motion.

I hesitate to admit it, but I’m proud of that too.

I’m filled with that same inexplicable pleasure and excitement.

Levi is really going at it now too, fucking me from below.

The bed has been shaking from the beginning, but now the headboard is knocking softly against the wall.

Good thing no one is beside us on that side.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he says after a few more minutes. “You think you can come?”

“No. I’m fine.” I’m shocked by how hoarse and breathless my voice sounds. “You come whenever you’re ready.”

“Fuck,” he gasps out for like the twentieth time since we started. His thrusts speed up, so I accelerate my bouncing. “Yes, girl. Fuck, yes. You’re… so… good.” He lets out a low, wordless exclamation just before he freezes.

I remember he needs to pull out, so I lift my hips. He grabs his cock and squeezes it as he comes all over my chest and belly.

I admit it.

I’m kind of proud of that too.