The Dead World Ch. 15

She mentally cursed Skully for ever putting her in such an awful fucking position... to what purpose she wasn't even sure. Maybe he wanted to torture her? Maybe he wanted to torture them all from his newfound position of power? It seemed he had something to prove with these demented little schemes. Dove didn't pretend to understand it, not even for a moment.

Her eyes shifted for the millionth time around the room, seeking an aide of some sort that did not come in the form of shots of liquid courage... and as her eyes moved to the back of the suite, her mind latched to the possibility.

She quietly moved into the restroom, leaving the door slightly ajar as she did so. With rigid determination, Dove peeled away the bits of clothing she had been permitted. She folded them neatly and placed them in the corner of the wide counter. She then loosely draped one of the hotel robes around her petite form, the belt hugging her slim waist, and with keen impatience, she sat and waited.

The door had finally unlocked. He was silent as he re-entered the room... and it was at that moment Dove rose to turn on the water, the heavy pressure of the showerhead pouring down onto the white tiles. The floor to ceiling glass doors of the magnificent bathing space clouded over. She carefully undid the braids of her hair, ignoring the skittish pound of her heart beneath her breast as she mustered her nerve.

"All good Char--er--Dove?"

"Yeah... just... showering before bed. Hey, do you think you could check on my shoulder before I get in? It's hard to tell what's going on back there. It's been... a little uncomfortable lately." Dove fought back the nervousness in her voice as she called out into the hotel suite.

Silence followed. She could practically feel his hesitation... but under the guise of medical attention, she was almost positive he wouldn't turn her down. The pause seemed to drag on forever before she heard him call out again.

"Si, I'll look at it for you. Should be well on its way to healing up. Probably just scabbed over and the nerves are trying to repair themselves, if it's bothering you. Just let me know when it's good to come in?"

"You can come in. I'm decent." Her teeth tugged her plump bottom lip fretfully, and a shift of cool air accompanied him as he pushed beyond the slightly cracked door. She stood before the wide mirror of the spacious restroom suite as he moved warily and non-threateningly, her fingertips teasing the tie of the robe with determination, her long wavy curls swept over her left shoulder.

With calculated deviousness, Dove let the fluffy layers of her robe ease down her shoulders, stopping at mid back with the fullness of her chest just barely covered in her reflection.

Lorenzo trained his eyes upon her shoulder, and only there... and for a moment, it purged the heaviness in the air that seemed to make Charlotte irresistibly distracting. He could only focus now on the smoothness of her skin where the knife had torn through and he had run the torch over. The shock was evident, with the way his eyes widened.

The injury should've been a palm sized, still healing wound of cauterized tissue, rough and unsightly on even its best day. Instead, it was smoothed over, and there was a silvery starburst scar left behind from new, pink skin. The wound looked as if it had aged beyond a year's time of recovery.

"Santa Madre de Dios--would you fucking look at this?!" His awestruck whisper almost forced a smile on her mouth as he reached out to timidly brush his fingertips over the silkiness of her healed flesh. "... Does it hurt? Can you feel it?"

"No. It doesn't hurt... and yes, I can feel everything." She studied his expression in the foggy reflection of the mirror, watching his eyes dart up to meet her own for a fleeting second as he carefully pressed a hand against the smoothly healed flesh, not at all certain he wasn't hallucinating. It made no sense. It was nothing short of impossible... but the softness of her skin felt very, >b>very real.

"Jesus Christo--Charlie... I... I've never seen anything like this before in my life... es un milagro--how's the other side, the same?" At his curiosity, she turned to face him, and purposefully let the material shielding her naked form from sight flitter away to pool around her feet. His eyes went wide, the impulse to stare interrupted by a quick closing of his eyes as he brought a hand up to shield her nude form from his gaze. "Shit, I'm sorry!"

"... It's fine. Not like you haven't seen me naked before... right?" There was a certain cool determination in her words, her deep brown eyes studying him hard.

He was reluctant to drop his hand, the flush he had worn earlier returning to erupt over his cheeks as he tried to focus on the task at hand--a medicinal practice, he tried convincing himself. Strictly platonic. Dove watched as he set his eyes upon the exit point of the wound, which could barely be called a scar anymore. The star shape had all but vanished.

"It's a miracle--I don't have any other words for it..." The quietness of his voice as he marveled over her rapid recovery inspired a tease of a smile to her lips. He was doing his damndest not to stare, and he was slowly losing that battle.

His eyes swept down her body, over her ample chest and smooth stomach, the curve of her thin waist to her wide hips. He flushed too deeply when she turned to move away from him, and carefully swept her long dark hair over her shoulder, giving him a wonderful view of her firm ass as she set her attention on the shower. She drew the glass door open and let her gaze stray back to him.

"... Could you help me... with one more thing? It doesn't hurt, but I still don't have much flexibility with my right arm. Even if I did have a better range of motion... it's always hard to reach your own back." She tried her best to tease, and force playfulness behind the words, her mocha eyes shifting over her shoulder to the slightly older man who couldn't avert his gaze any longer... not with her standing before him like this.

"... What're you doing, Charlie? Really?"

What I have to do.

"Showering... I already told you that." A smile curled slyly over her lips, before she disappeared into the foggy enclosed space of the suite shower to stand beneath the rush of hot water. She let it cascade over her shoulders, down her lithe frame, not yet glancing behind her to see whether her manipulations had played true. It felt wrong. It left an essence of guilt in the depths of her mind, and she debated offering her knowledge behind her impulsive behavior. Perhaps if he understood better, he wouldn't be so reluctant. As she turned to lean her head back gently and let the water run through her long, spiral locks, she noticed he had yet to leave the restroom. Baby steps were better than none.

"... You're... sure about it? Just come over this way and I'll--"

"If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have invited you in..." Dove abruptly interrupted him. The pleasant haze of alcohol working through her bloodstream had done wonders for her nerves and anxiety, but even now, she could sense Diablo's reluctance. She turned her back to him again, her voice light and impish, "Come on."

Diablo drew in a slow, unsteady breath, battling against his thoughts on the proper course of action. Some part of him was almost certain that there was some deeper underlying reason behind her insistence and her calculated determination to coax him to her. Several times he debated again declining, but looking at her so near and naked, with water streaming down her graceful body, he found his own chivalrous resolve deteriorating by the moment. The markings he had observed earlier against her neck told a darker tale of her evening beforehand, and yet she seemed so confident and unfazed with him here.

It was hard to think so close to her like this. He hardly seemed to realize he had already begun to tug the deep sanguine fabric of his shirt up over his head, discarding the accompanying bits of his wardrobe as he moved to the door of the shower. His boots were next to go, and soon after, his socks as well.

He stood just in front of the glass door of the shower to look upon her with her back to him still, drawing the long sheet of her dark wet hair over her shoulder to allow another unadulterated view of her naked body from behind. It was almost unfair how beautiful Charlotte was. Some part of him was certain that none of this was real and that he had to be dreaming. She cast a glance over her shoulder to him with a curious sort of impatience, and that devious curl tugging the edges of her lips wider.

His fingers hesitated on his belt for a moment, but Dove took the bar of soap from the porcelain lip, holding it near the heavy stream of water, and extended her hand out to him. He eased from the final bits of his clothing, and stepped into the steamy glass box, fighting back the impulses of lust and longing that seemed to only amplify ten times over in the enclosed space of the shower.

The space between them disappeared, and the supple woman was within arm's reach, her eyes tensely sweeping over the white tiles as he took the bar of unscented soap from her hand with trembling uncertainty. He reached out to lather her skin with dutiful hesitance, his deep brown gaze was tempted back to the healed skin upon her shoulder with ever present disbelief, and he felt her inch backwards to close the space between them and bring him beneath the stream of water.

She could feel his body's impulsive reaction, the pressure of his member growing stiff when pressed against the taut roundness of her ass. Her eyes slipped shut as she allowed herself a fleeting moment to enjoy the pressure of his fingers against her skin, massaging gentle circles against her shoulders, working down to the small of her back.

"Lo siento. You're fucking gorgeous... you know that?" His accent seemed more prominent under the haze of desire, his fingers itching to cover more of her nubile form, and were held back from that by tendrils of restraint. Barely, by the fact that she had not yet given any such invitation. His hesitance seemed a distant memory.

"... When was the last time you were with a woman, Diablo?" She forced her bristling anger at how quickly his resolve shattered, even if she knew she was directly to blame. His hands worked their way back up again, massaging the tension from her muscles, focusing on her shoulders as he recalled the memory with clarity.

"Maybe... five and a half years ago? Dallas stood for half a year when it all went bad. Once an outbreak started in the quarantine zone, shit went from bad to worse almost overnight... The feds started gunning down civilians, bitten or not. Liza and I met there, and got separated in the chaos. Later on I realized maybe ten people out of five hundred made it out--the group I was with. We got lucky."

Dove frowned, and turned to face him, the hot rush of water sweeping soap down as she moved to take the bar from his hand. She ran it down his lean frame, over his stomach and abdomen, watching the surprise melt into something dark and primal. Diablo's thin fingers stroked back through her wet hair, his free arm curling around her waist to draw her closer.

"You want me to go, chiquita? You say the word and I'm out of here."

"... I don't think you could stop yourself... even if you wanted to--" The breathy purr of her bitter words was caught between their lips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss hotly against her lips, her tense reluctance faltering. Her elegant digits curled at the base of his thick member, barely able to close her fingers around it, stroking up the length of him to feel the hardened phallus throb in her palm. The soap slipped from her fingers as he guided her backwards, back from the flow of water to the empty space there in the corner, beside the valves that controlled the shower and the niche for bath products.

His tongue teased between her lips, and despite her mind demanding she take no great pleasure in her success, the roll of that warm wet muscle against her own tongue was a seduction in the worst way. His fingers gently clutched her wet locks as he ripped their lips apart, and pressed her svelte body against the tiles, his low accented words tense and bewildered against her mouth. He pressed a muscular thigh between her legs as her fingers stroked up and down the length of him from tip to the base of his manhood, manipulating his desire, forcing him to the same hesitant acceptance she had of what needed to be done.

"Why do you want this, for real? This whole game you've been playing--those marks on you, from whatever the fuck happened to you yesterday--it doesn't add up... why push something you don't want to do, Charlie?"

"That doesn't matter. You want to fuck me, Diablo, so fucking do it. It'll be worse for me if you don't... that's all you need to know." Her eyes narrowed pointedly and fluttered as his lips claimed hers again with an increase of ravenous aggression. Her determined grasp guided his member to her smooth, neatly groomed sex. Every inch of her was that way now, devoid of hair by Skully's demands, and as she brought a leg up to seek support against the soap holder, she felt the thick head of him grind against her slit, already slick with growing lust.

It was so very unfair how fucking turned on she was in that moment. Her hatred of their group leader had amplified tenfold, but none more than her absolute detestment of her own traitorous body, the burning desire and pulsing demand for stimulation white hot and unforgiving. It was unfair how badly the need had grown. Her eyes lulled shut, feeling his lips sweeping down from her own and against her neck as he pressed his cock against her cunt, ready and waiting.

Inch by inch, that incredible tightness submitted to the intrusion, the prickles of pleasure and pain synonymous and damning. It was unfair how constricted her body felt after the day before, her swollen and abused walls creating an even greater friction after being subjected to Colton's lecherous ministrations... and somehow she was now certain that this was exactly what he had wanted. He wanted her overstimulated and hopelessly aroused at the faintest touch. She gritted her teeth and seethed at the realization.

Even under the daze of lust and years of sexual repression, she felt how mindful and gentle he was. Diablo's lips placed soft, almost fond kisses against the tender, erogenous zones of her neck and jaw. It did little to quell her mental frustration. The slow yet steady pace he began to thrust distracted from his attempts at making this experience as pleasant as he could for her. The discomfort subsided in only moments, and she brought her arms up to curl around his shoulders, and met his lips hotly as he grinded deeper into the slippery, clinging warmth of her incredible body.

God, this felt wrong. He felt wrong. But there was no stopping. There was no fucking way he could do that now. She held him close as the slow, grinding thrusts grew in pace and rhythm, eliciting heavy gasps between salacious kisses and desperate rolls of his hips, pressing himself deeper still into her. She winced when he had finally met her limit, his thick curved shaft almost entirely buried inside of her wanting snatch. He tilted his head down, capturing one soft brown nipple to suckle gently, a hand shifting between them to tease over the smoothness of her mons seeking her clitoris with knowledgeable certainty. At that, Dove's fingers curled around his wrist to force his hand away.

"Just... nngh--just finish..." Her voice was strained, and irritated, laced with embarrassed resistance to any facade of positive stimulation and at that he drew back and thrust deeply, and ignored her defiance.

"Eso no es justo para ti... just let me take care of you, chiquita." He insisted.

"Diablo... mmn--n-no, I don't... I don't want to--mmmmnfuck--" Her breathless murmurs and reluctant moans were an abundant reward as his fingers invaded the silk softness of her outer lips, teasing against the sensitive round nub of her clit and sending ripples of pleasure through her body. She leaned her head back against the tiles, biting down on her bottom lip as his slow grinding pace resumed. Her fingers latched around his wrist desperately. "S-stop... Please--Don't--"

Her voice was soft and desperate in her pleas, and in her reluctant desperation, the lustful whimpers were only that much more impossibly sexy. She had swallowed her pleasure with skillful determination earlier, but she could do no such thing now. Her face had flushed deeply, adding another layer of wanton beauty to her features. The arm curled around his shoulders latched there desperately as wave after wave of pleasure caused her walls to clench and spasm marvelously around his dick. His lips shifted up against her neck and teased her mouth as he whispered the sensual phrase in Spanish against her lips, "Te lo mereces por ti, no solo por mí."

She didn't need translation to understand what he meant, and it made her no less defiant in the act, no matter how sinfully fucking sexy those words were delivered in the low, hushed moan as he guided her orgasm with determined certainty. She felt herself barreling toward the edge, her knees weak, supported only by his own solid frame and the glassy tiles behind her as he coaxed a crescendo of silky moans sweetly from her mouth. Her fingers coiled loosely in the damp waves of his dark hair, her face pressed against his neck as she shuddered and panted desperately as the building wave of climax erupted through her lissom frame and worked its way to every sensitive nerve ending.

He did not linger, not wishing to cause her any discomfort, the steady pace of his thick member driving again and again into the soaking wetness of the intoxicatingly vice-like walls of her cunt. Diablo managed sparse, determined thrusts before she felt him pull out to guide himself to completion with a firm grip, heavy streams of come shot to the tiles rather than threaten her with the direct risk of pregnancy. She struggled to regain her composure, her eyes slipping shut, annoyance and humiliation all too apparent upon her face as he slowed his breathing and rested his forehead against her shoulder gingerly.

"Lo siento--" He began quietly, and was abruptly cut short.

"Forget it. There's nothing to apologize over, just go. We're done now, aren't we?" Her aggressive snap came before he could offer further apology, her deep brown eyes reopening to stare at him heatedly.

"Charlie--"

"Dove--not fucking Charlie. You got what you wanted, and got me to enjoy it... that's how you wanted things to go, right? It was fun, right? ... So if you're done, get the fuck out," her tone had gone like ice, and she glared daggers at him now, pressing her hands against his chest to force space between them. The abrupt shift of her demeanor had caused a flood of conflicted emotion, but he didn't linger as her anger became apparent over anything else, shifting back away from her through the still running hot water and on through the fogged glass doors.

He didn't dare do more than gather his clothing and take a towel from the hanging rack in haste. The venom in her tone inspired worry and concern over what all she had gone through... and what he had been too weak to turn down. The damning thoughts had quickly clouded his mind, twisted with regret over the impulsive decision, and as he moved to exit the restroom and give her space, she listlessly moved beneath the flow of water once again.

Dove exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She reached toward the wall and turned the heat down inch by inch. The pulsing afterglow of orgasm was a disturbing and unwelcome lingering remnant of her new place among the group of men. As the valve of the hot water was pressed back until it was cut off entirely, cold water poured from the shower head above her, purging her thoughts of the lingering aftereffects of climax and the betrayal she felt.