Page 9 of Tower (Post-Apocalyptic Fairy Tales #1)

For the next two weeks, I settle into a routine. It’s not bad, but it’s not easy. I go through every part of every day with the urgency of the crisis mode that surged up when my father died and has never yet dissipated.

I know it can’t last forever. I know it’s an artificial energy, a forced composure. I know I’ll have to crash eventually, but it’s still a shock when it happens.

I’ve gotten a full two weeks in at base. I’ve fucked Levi every single evening. I’ve learned the names of each person living here, and I’m adapting to their routines and small rituals. I’m trying not to think too much about my dad or my mom or everything else I’ve lost.

I’m doing good . I’m proud of myself for surviving what might have killed or ruined me.

I’m thinking I’ll actually make it through.

Then the crisis momentum that’s been fueling me washes out without warning like water down a drain, and I crash.

It happens in the middle of the night.

Earlier in the evening, Levi fucks me doggie-style for the first time. That has nothing to do with the crash. It just happens to coincide.

We’re used to fucking each other now, and it’s not as awkward as it used to be. We’ve tried a few different positions, but this is the first time he’s taken me from behind. He told me to hold on to the headboard, so that’s what I’m doing, my legs bent and my butt pushing back against his thrusts.

It’s a different angle. One that’s really working for me.

It’s the first time in two weeks of regular sex that I might come from penetration.

I try not to make a lot of noise when we fuck.

I know vocalization is supposed to be hot—at least porn would have us believe so—but it embarrasses me.

I’m not sure what kinds of noises might annoy Levi, and I’ve never been particularly loud in bed anyway.

But tonight I keep making these silly, high-pitched bursts of sound every time he shoves his cock forward into my pussy.

The sounds are cringey, and I wish I could hold them back.

I can’t. And they get more helpless as an orgasm coalesces inside me.

“Jesus Christ, girl,” he says on a raspy inhale. He’s kneeling behind me. One of his hands is braced on the headboard beside mine, and his other arm is wrapped around my middle, holding me in place so the force of his rutting doesn’t topple us. “You’re wet as hell tonight.”

A wave of heat slams into me, and I don’t know if it’s intensified arousal or shame. Maybe both. I make a whimpering sound that’s going to have to stand in for a response.

“Shoulda told me you like it dirty. Who knew my pretty little princess would want me to do her from behind?”

Why that turns me on even more, I couldn’t tell you. The pleasure rises so fast and intense that I make a ridiculous sobbing sound, grinding my ass against his thrusts. I’m pushing against the headboard so shamelessly that it’s banging loudly against the wall.

“That’s right. Fuck, you’re so eager. Take all of it. Everything you want so bad. You’re lettin’ me fuck you so good.”

And that does it. I cry out as the pleasure explodes—not anything close to a scream but a lot louder than I’ve ever been during sex before—and my body freezes and then shakes helplessly as the waves of climax pulse through me.

Levi is still going behind me, muttering about how good I’m coming for him, how hot I am right now, how he’ll fuck me just like this anytime I need it.

My pussy has clamped down around his cock, and he can barely hold out before I’ve worked through the lingering waves of my orgasm.

As soon as I’ve relaxed and quieted to ragged gasps, he makes a stretched sound, pumps hard a few final times, and then yanks himself out to come all over my bottom and lower back.

My body is still buzzing. With pleasure and satisfaction but also something greedy. Something that wants even more.

Levi is done though. And I’ve had one incredibly good orgasm, which is more than I would ever expect from our strange situation.

It always takes a few minutes for Levi to find his words again after sex. He goes deep and has to drag himself out again, back to his normal, controlled self. We stay poised in the same position for longer than is entirely comfortable, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

He finally withdraws, letting go of the headboard. That means it’s time for me to move too, but I can’t. I’m clutching the headboard hard with both hands, my butt is still displayed undignifiedly, and my clit and pussy are both throbbing.

I’m trying to make myself move when Levi shifts again, reaching around my body to feel me intimately until he finds my clit.

I make a silly sobbing sound when he presses into it.

“You’re not done yet, are you?” His voice is hoarse and soft. “Shoulda told me what you like sooner.”

I never would have told him this works for me because I didn’t even know until now.

I’m washed with such embarrassment that I let go of the headboard and hide my face in a pillow.

The shift in position leaves only my ass in the air, but I don’t care.

He’s still rubbing my clit, and I come and then come again, muffling the loud sounds of pleasure in the pillow.

“That’s good, girl. You come as much as you need. Tell me when you’ve had enough.”

After the second one, my clit is so sensitized I can’t stand any more. So I turn my head and gasp out, “That’s enough. I’m good. Thank you.”

He pulls his hand away and pats my bottom briefly. “All right then. That should do you.”

That should do me.

Even that makes me hot. What the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve never been like this. So carnal. So base.

I fall sideways and curl up on my side, and Levi waits until I’ve recovered so we can go downstairs to the tents before settling in bed for the night.

It’s not the sex. I’m sure it’s not. Maybe it’s partly the release I got tonight—both the physical and emotional release—but it’s not only that.

I really think it’s that my crisis-fueled adrenaline finally runs out.

Whatever it is, I sleep like the dead for several hours before I wake up in the wee hours. As soon as I come to consciousness, I’m hit with a wave of grief out of nowhere.

My dad’s voice. My dad’s face. Gone forever. Along with my mom eighteen months ago, leaving nothing but her crystal butterflies. All my friends. Everyone I knew and loved all my life.

The intensity of grief scares me so much I get out of bed, stumbling over toward the dresser. It’s dark in the room, and I’m unsteady from the unexpected emotion. I stumble, barely managing to catch myself on the edge of the dresser.

It’s an old piece of cheap furniture, and it rocks from the impact. All the crystal butterflies rattle, and the smallest one at the end falls to the floor.

It breaks.

Gasping on a sob, I crouch down to peer in the dark at the spot where it fell. It didn’t shatter, but it cracked in two. The butterfly broke off the base.

It’s broken. Like the world. Like me. Like everything.

I start crying, and once I begin, I can’t stop.

I cover my face with both hands to smother the sound, shaking helplessly for a minute until I’m capable of standing up and returning to bed.

When I’ve climbed back under the covers, I turn away from Levi, who’s sound asleep beside me, and I contain my sobbing to raspy wheezes and restrained shudders.

It goes on a long time, and I don’t sleep at all for the rest of the night. When Levi gets up at dawn, I pretend I’m still asleep. After he’s gone, I lie in bed limply and can barely force myself to get up for breakfast.

I do. I force myself. I have duties here.

I have to earn my keep, or all I’ve worked for these two weeks will be for nothing and my life will fall apart.

I’m quiet and glum over breakfast. Levi sneaks a few looks at me, so maybe he notices something.

But he doesn’t ask about it, and as soon as I’m allowed, I return to the room and hide the broken butterfly in the drawer with my underwear.

I stay in the room all day.

Jen brings me lunch and asks if I’m feeling all right. I assure her I am.

Becca stops by an hour later to check on me. Jen must have said something to her. I explain I’m just tired, and she goes away eventually.

I lay in bed, half sleeping and half crying for hour after hour.

I really don’t know what happened, but there’s nothing in me that can do anything else.

It’s late afternoon when Levi returns from some sort of protection job. He knocks on the door like always, so I have to get up to remove the security bars.

I don’t say anything. Just return to bed and curl up on my side with my back toward him.

“What’s goin’ on, girl? Jen said you’re sick or somethin’.”

I don’t want to answer. Even the energy to form a few words feels like too much for me right now. But he’s standing there, staring at my back and waiting for an answer, so I mumble, “I’m not sick.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing. Can I be left alone for a while?” I force my tone into a semblance of politeness, although I really want to snap his head off.

“You can be left alone after you tell me what the fuck is hap’nin’ here.” He strides toward my side of the bed and plops his ass down on the edge. Right next to me.

It makes me mad, and I burst into tears.

I hate it. I hate everything. But there’s nothing I can do to change any of it.

“Damn it, Hailey. You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong, and you’re gonna tell me right the fuck now. Did someone try somethin’ on you? Did someone hurt you?”

“No!” I gasp, too startled and upset to hold back the truth any longer. “It’s nothing like that. I just… I… I miss my dad!”

It’s more than that. It’s everything. But it’s as close to an explanation as I can get.

I lost him only two weeks ago. And I’ve been pretending it didn’t happen, but it did. That kind of denial only takes us so far. Grief will always sit there in the darkness like a monster lying in wait, and eventually we have to face it.