Last Mark on the Map

A Post-Apocalypse Erotic Romance

Worried that it’s only a matter of time before Dare leaves to pursue higher paying gigs, Vanie intends to make this rendezvous one he won’t forget.

Low-hanging gray clouds crowded out the last vestiges of blue sky. The near-constant wind had abandoned them altogether, giving the day’s heat free-rein. Sweat trickled down Vanie’s spine. As they approached the bluffs, she unclamped her oars and strapped them in place on either side of her seat. Behind her, Vaughn continued rowing. Peeling off her ballcap, she wiped her brow, then with a one-handed swipe, tucked her short hair back under the cap. She retrieved her .30–30 Winchester and laid it across her lap. Vanie scanned the river and horizon-touching flood plains. No other soul in sight and she hoped it stayed that way. Only seven more miles to go until they met up with the next couriers. Seven miles before she had to say goodbye.

A thunk, followed by a muted scrape, came from beneath her seat. She tensed and glanced down into the muddy water more out of habit than hope of seeing what they’d hit. Could be a tree stump or the crumpled remains of a stop sign. Who knew? The opaque water, decorated with globules of rainbow-sheen slicks, wasn’t giving up its secrets. The sturdy rowboat’s hull could endure a lot. She wasn’t as optimistic about the newly added storage container’s durability however. Life would become more complicated if they arrived empty-handed. Their employer wasn’t a forgiving man.

“Get us closer to the bluffs, Vaughn. Should be deeper over there.”

He didn’t answer, not that she’d expected him too. Her brother had little use for idle words. Oars swished, cutting through the water, and the boat’s bow nosed right.

Since the Great Floods, the Krux River, once narrow and curving through this section of Minnesota, had morphed into a hungry beast gobbling neighborhoods and huge swaths of farmland up in its wake. Unfamiliar with the Krux, she’d memorized the landmarks on Vaughn’s hand-drawn map. He and Dare considered the bluffs the prime spot for trouble. For Vanie, the last mark on the map would be the roughest. That bold red X might mark the end of life as Vanie knew it.

Indestructible weeds sprouted from the pale-yellow sandstone. Threadbare trees lined the bluffs, their branches empty of chirping birds and scolding squirrels. Frothy white foam, tinged with brown, accumulated in swirling eddies at the outcropping’s base. The pervading odor of dead fish and diesel gave her a headache.

Ahead to their left, a rusting water tower proclaimed ‘Willowdale’ in five-foot-high flaked, red paint. Towns made her nervous. There were too many hiding spots for her liking. Two head-shots would be all it took for the boat and its cargo to become someone else’s property. Vanie’s fingers tightened on the rifle resting on her lap.

As the fourteen-foot rowboat sliced through the water, more of Willowdale revealed itself. Stagnant water engulfed rows of leaning streetlights and defunct power line poles. Few states had been able to restore power after the Cyber Wars blacked-out satellites and power grids. What the hackers didn’t destroy with their viruses, Mother Nature wiped out with hurricanes, earthquakes, and fires.

Near a two-story brick building — a school? — she spied the remains of three softball backstops. She remembered going to Vaughn’s Little League games and being bored out of her mind. Other memories clamored for her attention: the two of them clinging to a fat pony as it bucked across an alfalfa field, their sun-bleached brown hair whipping in the wind and their shrieks of laughter escalating with each miniature bronco buck; her teaching him to drive a stick-shift; the two of them sneaking out for keg parties; the black eye he’d given Dare after Vaughn had found her crying. She could no longer recall what she and Dare had fought over. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

She had no problem remembering their last fight. She wished they’d never heard of Ned Masterson. Her mind cued up every word, ready to replay it over and over.

“Don’t give me an ultimatum, woman.”

“You aren’t listening. It’s not an ultimatum.”

“You know we’re getting squeezed out. We’re losing gigs. Why are you being so bullheaded? Masterson trusts us enough to have us lead crews now. Big jobs mean more money.”

“No Dare, big jobs mean higher visibility and that increases our risk of being hijacked. That means people get injured or killed. I don’t want to lose you. We’re comfortable. We don’t need more money.”

“Comfortable? Was last winter comfortable?”

“I hate these longer trips. I hate being apart from you.”

“Vanie, that’s on you. You could work with me instead of taking the local runs. You need to wake up and realize things are changing.”

Change. She’d had her fill of it. Over two years surviving one upheaval after another and now that they’d finally carved out a meager oasis in the chaos, Vaughn and Dare wanted to abandon it all. Was it so wrong to want a thread of constancy in her life?

A tangle of jagged emotions bubbled up inside Vanie threatening to drown her. She tamped them down and forced her attention onto the silent town. Carcasses of half-submerged houses stood like markers in a cemetery. Twisted bicycles, fragmented trees, smashed camper tops, and other debris piled up against buildings. If there were any people left in Willowdale, they would have salvaged anything usable from the detritus. She wondered how many souls from this town had survived nature’s relentless assault of floods, tornadoes, and ice storms?

Vanie counted three church steeples. Had the town banded together to keep each other alive? Or had they — like so many other towns and cities — devolved into riots and a shoot-first-don’t-ask-questions-later mindset, further decimating their numbers? She imagined most of the survivors had gone to Rochester or the Twin Cities. There might be a few diehards eking out an existence further inland.

How much of Colorado had been laid waste? That unwelcome thought ended her ruminations about Willowdale. She fidgeted in her seat. Colorado was so far away. Would she ever see Vaughn again? Why couldn’t he be satisfied working here? Why couldn’t Dare?

Dare teased her often that someday she’d have to cut the apron strings and let Vaughn fly. That abstract someday had snuck up on her and Ned Masterson held the scissors.

The three of them had built a strong reputation as couriers. Their Achilles’ tendon was fuel. Gasoline was dear. Their small crew only used trucks and cars when someone else footed the bill. Primarily using horses and boats limited their territory and opportunities, especially in the winter. Both Vaughn and Dare had been eager to join Masterson. The man had money, better connections, and a reliable fuel supply.

She wanted the best for her brother. Of course, she did. It didn’t mean that she had to like his decision.

And how long before Dare accepts Masterson’s offer? What then? her subconscious asked.

That inner voice pissed Vanie off and terrified her in equal measures. Dare would go. A wave of nausea cramped her stomach. She wouldn’t be able to change his mind.

Annoyed with herself over her wandering thoughts, Vanie wrenched her focus back to the passing terrain. She’d be glad when they were past Willowdale. It made her uneasy dividing her attention between the quiet town and the bluffs.

Vaughn dipped his oars into the murky water, propelling them north.

At the town’s edge, Vanie said, “Switch.” She quickly stowed her rifle.

The snick and clack of his oars being removed and hers being clamped back in place filled the silence. They drifted backward in the current. From behind her came the swish of denim and the clunk of a boot against the boat’s hull as he pivoted on his bench. The rowboat swayed from his movements. She began to row. He stilled and she knew he had his rifle pointed at the retreating town.

“The money’s better in Colorado.” Though Vaughn spoke low, his voice startled her. “Less competition out there.”

Colorado. Her lip curled in distaste.

Over the last few months, Masterson put each of them in charge of crews more and more often. It’s hadn’t been a surprise when he’d chosen Vaughn to head the Colorado expansion. It had shocked her that he’d accepted.

At home with Dare she’d fumed and threatened to castrate Masterson numerous times. Dare calmly talked her down each time.

“You and Dare should come with me,” Vaughn continued.

“We’ve got gigs through the fall. I can’t back out on those.” She scanned the bluffs. Dare had thrown a fit that she’d agreed to them. The realization that she might be doing those jobs by herself hurt like hell. “Dare might decide to go though.”

“Dare won’t go without you.”

Vanie wasn’t so sure of that.

“You need to wake up and realize things are changing.” Dare’s words echoed through her mind once more.

Why couldn’t he see things the way she did? Wasn’t this life they’d created together enough? She wished they’d never met Masterson.

She dreaded the long hours she’d have to wait between Vaughn’s departure and Dare’s arrival. Time alone to brood and fret over when Dare decided he’d had enough of their small-time jobs, enough of their small life. Would she have a month more with him? A week? A day?

“It’s a great opportunity for me,” Vaughn said.

The opportunity of a lifetime Dare had called it. A hollow ache consumed Vanie. Hot tears welled up, blurring the expanse of water before her.

“You’ve worked hard for Masterson. He’s smart to put you in charge of Colorado.” The bastard.

Vanie put a little more muscle into her strokes and blinked back her unshed tears.

Once they were out of rifle range of Willowdale and the bluffs, Vaughn picked up his oars. With both of them rowing, they cruised past one abandoned farmstead after another. Miles of wire fencing cordoned off once verdant ground. Eventually, the floodwaters receded replaced by acres of mudflats sprawling out on either side of the Krux. Stubs of rotted corn stalks poked out of the muck. Mildewed round bales sat in long-neglected hay fields. The wind had rallied, carrying the scent of decay and something that reminded Vanie of waterlogged earthworms. She could trace the path of a tornado by the scattered confetti that used to be rooftops, grain bins, and Morton buildings.

In the distance, the skeletal remains of wind turbines rose. The white giants were the map’s final landmark. Endless bits of advice and words of caution snagged in Vanie’s throat. She wondered when their shared dreams and plans had parted company.

“How far now?” she asked.

“A little over a mile.”

“Do you know who’s meeting us?”

“Jackson and Lily. Whoever else Masterson sends.” A long pause and then he asked, “You aren’t going to cry are you, Vanie? You know…when I go?”

“I’m not promising anything.”

“Mmm.” Another longer pause. “When’s Dare getting in?”

“Why? Are you hoping he’ll distract me for you?”

“No, I just wanted to talk to him before I go.”

Dare’s I-35 cigarettes haul should be over by now. It was almost a straight shot down from Burnsville. Depending on his mode of transport, it could be a couple of hours or a full day before he arrived. He’d hoped to call in a favor and catch a ride to the safehouse.

“He thought tomorrow at the latest.” Way too much time to spend alone with her dark thoughts.

The far-off drone of a motor drew her attention.

“Your guys, you think?” she asked.

“They should all be there. Maybe someone bringing in a last-minute load for us.”

The wind turbines grew larger as the boat glided up the river. Their time together was growing short.

“Vanie, do you remember the Black Hills hunting trip?”

She twisted around to look at him. Large gray-green eyes, the same color as hers, dominated his sun-reddened face.

“I remember it felt like an eternity to get there. I remember us fighting in the car so much, Dad threatened to leave us in Sioux Falls. Why?”

“Remember how you fussed about missing Mom?”

“Did not.” She shook her head. If anyone had been upset, it would’ve been him. She was sure of that.

“We were laying on those scratchy plaid blankets and looking up at the stars.”

“I remember those blankets. They had a weird half-smoky half-musty smell,” she said.

“Dad pointed out the North Star and the Big Dipper. He kept trying to get you to see Cassiopeia.”

“Are you making this up? Are you sure I was there? Maybe you’re thinking of a trip you and Dad took together.”

Vaughn sighed, then said, “You were there. Dad said that Mom could see the exact same stars and that finally made you feel better.”

“Seeing the stars made me feel better?” What the hell is he talking about? “You’re delusional. I don’t remember any of that.”

He leaned forward and pulled her hair. “Brat.”

“Ouch! Butthead. Knock it off.” She rubbed the back of her head.

“I’m just saying Colorado isn’t that far away.”

Stars. Her lips crept up into a smile. Her taciturn brother offered up stars as a connection point between them. The gesture touched her. But she couldn’t pass up one last opportunity to tease him a little.

“That’s — ” she snarked the word — “what you’re saying?”

“Yeah.”

The engine’s thrum became the distinctive rumble of a motorcycle. Vanie could make it out now. A faint dust cloud rose in the wake of the rider. The road it traveled led to an intact two-story farmhouse. One of Masterson’s many safe-houses scattered throughout the Midwest. She’d been promised that this one had good water and functioning plumbing. It would feel good to wash her hair and soak in a tub for a few hours.

A ragged line of yellowed evergreens lay north of the faded blue home. Several white-washed buildings were clustered off to the west. Parked south of the house was a flatbed trailer. Vanie squinted trying to make out what was on the trailer.

“If those knuckleheads parked in the mudflats you’re never going to get to Colorado.” She nodded towards the trailer.

“Do you think Masterson would hire anyone that stupid?”

“I hope to god not. Though I do think — ”

Vaughn cut her off. “Jerry Evans has an almost new car battery and he still owes me for the sugar job. Tell Dare to collect it from him. You need a backup for your ham radio.”

“I’ll tell him.”

As they rowed the last quarter-mile, she could see people coming out of the house. One went to greet the biker. Two walked down to the river. A fourth disappeared around the side of the house.

“Where’d they get that much hay?” Vanie pointed to the stacked bales on the trailer and piled on the ground.

“Dunno. But look, they’re parked on gravel.”

A woman, wearing a fully loaded double bandolier, and a bow-legged man waded out into the shallows as the rowboat approached. Lily and Ryan, two of Masterson’s finest, she’d worked with both several times. Vanie felt infinitesimally better. The pair grabbed hold of the bow and hauled the boat up onto the bank.

“Hey, Vaughn. Vanessa. You made good time,” Ryan said. “Any trouble?”

“Nah.”

They’d safely made it to the last mark on the map. Vanie carefully stepped out of the rowboat. She stretched, nearly knocking off her ballcap. She pitched it back in the boat and raked her fingers through her matted-down hair. A hot breeze whisked over her sweat-damp skin, sending a little shiver through her.

She ignored the chatter behind her and focused on the two men standing by the motorcycle, their backs to her. An unfamiliar redheaded woman leading two Clydesdales cut across the yard blocking her view. It didn’t matter. She’d know that tight squeezable ass anywhere.

“Dare!” Her heart jackrabbited.

She trudged up the incline through boot-sucking mud. If she could do it without wiping out and falling flat on her face in the mud, she’d have run. Vanie didn’t care if the first words out of his mouth were fighting volleys. She just needed to touch him.

The men turned, both dark-haired and bronzed-skinned. The taller of the two grinned and started walking towards her. Dare met her halfway, arms opened wide. She fell into his embrace. With her nose burrowed in the hollow of his throat, she reveled in the comforting familiar scent of him.

“Like my ride?” He hugged her, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Um-hmm.”

Despite the heat, tremors racked her as if she were standing coatless in a winter storm. She tightened her hold. Her soft, full breasts crushed against his lean, muscular chest. His deep, rhythmic breathing resonated through her and she stilled, taking refuge in his presence.

Dare rubbed her back then let his hands glide lower, patting her ass.

“A little help down here, lovebirds,” Lily hollered.

Taking a step back, Vanie reached up and combed her fingers through the helter-skelter waves of his black hair.

“Didn’t have a helmet.” Dare laughed and caught hold of her hand. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “Come on. Let’s help the weaklings flip that boat over.”

Dare tucked her into his side and they walked to the others.

“Where the hell did you get a Harley?” Vaughn asked.

“I asked Marlboro Man if I could bum a ride down here before you took off for Colorado. When he heard where you were going, he set me up with the bike. He needs to get it out to Cheyenne. That a problem?”

“Lucky break for you,” Ryan said at the same time Jackson said, “Got room. No problem.”

“He also said he’d be sure Masterson got you decent transport out to Wyoming once you drop off this load.” Dare winked. “The bike’s going to his grandson.”

“Motorized transport?” Vaughn asked.

“Motorized.”

Whoops and cheers went up.

In high spirits, the others laughed and joked while unloading the cargo hold. Vanie was relieved that it hadn’t leaked and ruined the bundled antibiotics and heart meds.

Ryan and Dare used a busted garage door as a ramp to wheel the Harley Street 760 up.

Vanie frowned at the moldy bales laying on the ground. “I don’t think there’s a creature alive that would eat that crap.”

“Here, put these on.” Lily handed two bandanas up to Dare. “Both of you, cover your nose and mouth.”

“Tell me you aren’t going to feed any of this to the horses.” Vanie wrinkled her nose.

“The good hay is stacked behind the driver’s bench.” Ashley, the redhead, assured her.

Bandanas in place, the two men rearranged long, narrow crates already loaded on the trailer and secured the motorcycle.

Jackson saddled two bay Quarter Horses tied to the house’s front porch rails.

Vanie helped Ashley hitch the draft horses to the trailer.

Ryan smacked his hands together. “Hey! We’re ready for the med packs.”

Vaughn and Lily handed up one plastic-wrapped pack after another until the last of the rowboat cargo had been loaded. They stowed the duffle bags, ammunition, food, and water containers last.

Too soon they were ready to leave.

Huddled together at the end of the trailer, Vaughn and Dare spoke in low tones.

Lily touched Vanie’s shoulder then pulled her in for a hug. “Come out and visit us soon. Okay?”

“We will.”

“You do know she thinks once you come out, you’ll stay. Right?” Ryan shook Vanie’s hand.

“Vanessa’s the best shot I know. Of course, I want her to join us.” Lily jabbed Ryan in the ribs.

They walked away, teasing and elbowing each other, heading to their mounts.

Vanie stood frozen in place. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. The backs of her eyes stung. Her mouth felt bone dry. She crossed her arms, cupping her elbows.

“Vanie.” Dare stood in front of her.

She jerked at his voice then looked up, wide-eyed. Oh God, Dare would leave her too.

Vaughn came alongside her. “We gotta scoot. I’ll radio you along the way. ‘Kay Vanie?”

“Every night?” Vanie stared at the ground, struggling to hold her tears in check. Stay. I’m supposed to take care of you. I’m not ready to let go. If she said the words out loud, she’d only embarrass Vaughn. She clenched Dare’s hand, digging her short nails into his skin, not ready to let him go either

“When we can. You know how it goes.”

Forcing herself to release her death-grip on Dare, she turned to Vaughn. The expression of eagerness on his face halted her. He was already miles away, planning out his future.

She brushed his shaggy bangs out of his eyes. “I’m so proud of you. Mom and Dad would be too.” She hugged him. “I love you.”

All the air went out of her lungs as he bear-hugged her. “Love you too. Watch the stars, Vanie.”

“I will.”

Vaughn pressed a kiss into her hair, then said, “Bring her out as soon as you can. ‘Kay?”

“Next summer for sure, man,” Dare said.

Vanie stepped back. Smiling shakily, she smoothed her hand over Vaughn’s mud-splattered t-shirt.

Dare shook his hand. “Radio us or send a message through Masterson.” He drew Vanie close, looping his arm around her.

The crew waited, ready to go, looking everywhere but at the siblings’ farewell. The Quarter Horses pawed the ground and tossed their heads while the Clydesdales stood placidly. Vaughn boosted himself up on the bench next to Ashley. She handed him his Browning once he was settled. Ashley clicked to the horses, jiggling the reins. Gravel crunched and popped beneath the trailer wheels.

Lily waved and pressed her bay into a slow trot, moving ahead of the Clydesdales. Ryan’s horse pranced sideways, unhappy to be bringing up the rear.

Vanie swiped her eyes.

“Breathe.” Dare patted her hip.

“I am.”

The trailer turned out of the long driveway onto the patchwork gravel road. Seated on the back of the trailer with his legs dangling over the edge, Jackson saluted them with his Remington. Ryan’s gelding flattened his ears and gave a little crow-hop.

“Let’s go inside. I’m hungry and I want to get cleaned up.” Catching hold of her hand, he hauled her toward the house. “We aren’t going to stand out here and watch until they’re a speck on the horizon.”

Sorrow and niggling fear churned through her. She craned her neck, hoping to catch sight of Vaughn once more. The outbuildings blocked her view of the caravan.

“I hate that everything’s changing.” Again.

“Babe, life is change.”

She bit back a snarled ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ and said instead, “Will you do the Iowa runs with me?”

“We can make more with Masterson.”

Vanie blew out a long breath and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to push him into making a decision that would cost her everything. “I can work with Heather and Justin.”

“I don’t know why you even took those pissant gigs.”

“They’re loyal clients — ”

“Loyal. That’s a joke. You know if they could get someone to do the run for less, you’d never hear from them.”

“Please Dare. I don’t want to fight.”

“You drive me crazy, woman.” Dare tugged her to the porch. “What do you have against working with Masterson?”

“You don’t listen.” Lightly, she smacked him in the shoulder with her fist. “We don’t have as much control over security with him.”

“Vanie, we can get attacked doing the little runs too. There are no guarantees in this line of work. You know that.”

“I hate that he puts us on different crews. I get it. He’s paying for our experience but I hate being apart for so damned long. We don’t need the money that bad.”

Dare knocked his cowboy boots against the lowest stair riser. Clods of mud sprayed out with each strike. Vanie paused, watching the flex of muscle beneath his faded denim. The wooden planks creaked as he climbed the steps.

He turned and lowered himself down onto the floorboards. “Help me get these boots off, will you?”

“I don’t want you to go.” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, wished she could call them back.

“Go? Go where? What the hell is going on in that mind of yours?”

A dull ache crushed her heart. She stood before him feeling lost and unbearably alone. “We aren’t on the same page anymore. I’m afraid you’re going to leave me and — ”

Dare grabbed hold of her hips, pulling her to him. She stumbled forward. Her boots knocked into the stairs before she landed astride his lap.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” He rested his forehead against hers.

She desperately wanted to believe that. Vanie ran her palms over his dusty t-shirt then wrapped her fingers around his biceps. “Okay.”

“We can’t keep operating the way we have been. There are too many others willing to do local runs for less. I’m thinking about our future, Vanie. We have more opportunities with — ”

If he kept talking, they’d probably end up fighting again. She silenced him with soft, lush kisses. Vanie trailed her hands around to his back. She didn’t want to worry about what the future held for them. The only thing she wanted here and now was his absolute focus. They were good together and she intended to remind him just how good.

Dare cradled her ass in his hands. His tongue swept over her lips and she opened to him. The faint trace of root beer and dust flavored his slow explorative kisses. Her hips rocked restlessly against his thickening cock, seeking more delicious friction.

“Take this inside?” He murmured against her mouth.

Desire hummed through her. She hugged him close, not wanting to ever let him go. Vanie pressed frantic kisses along his jaw then nipped at his earlobe. “No. I need you, Dare. Now.”

“We have… too many… clothes on.” Dare said, each pause punctuated with hot, nerve-sizzling kisses. He squeezed her ass then gripped her waist and tried to ease her back.

With a mewl of protest, she gave in, giving him room to peel his shirt off. She scraped her nails over his brown nipples and laughed as he shuddered.

“Vanie,” he warned when she tickled his ribs. Dare tugged her t-shirt lose from her jeans.

She raised her arms, wondering if he’d retaliate. Unlike him, she only had one ticklish area, just beneath her left armpit. He pulled her cotton shirt off. Sultry air caressed her skin.

“Take that off.” Dare tugged the strap of her bra. “Damn.” He stroked the pale flesh of her belly. The rasp of his work-rough hands made her shiver. “You need to work on your all-over tan.”

“Pfft.” Vanie rolled her eyes and freed herself from the bra. Her hardened nipples jutted out.

Instantly Dare cupped and molded her breasts. His fingernails pricked her flesh. He pinched her nipples, rolling the sensitive nubs between his calloused fingers.

The fleeting pain lit her up, chasing away every other thought. She squirmed and exhaled a moan. Each little twist and tug caused her clit to throb in response. She clamped her hand over his. He swatted her hand away playfully. Banked embers of need blazed into red-hot lust as he latched onto her areola, biting down. She gyrated her hips, grinding against him. The friction wasn’t enough. She wanted him buried deep inside her.

Vanie lifted off him with a growl. “Hang on.”

“What?” He frowned, scrunching his bushy eyebrows together.

She rearranged their shirts across the weathered floorboards. “Don’t want you getting splinters. There. Scoot back a little.” She flicked her fingers, motioning him back.

He shimmied backward, stretching out fully onto the makeshift blanket. His molasses-dark eyes sparked as Vanie straddled him again. His lips stretched into a lopsided grin.

Kneeling in a half-crouch, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans.

“Boots.”

“Waste of time.” She shook her head. “Lift your hips.” She gripped his boxers and jeans.

His cock sprung free after several fraught tugs. Vanie paused, breathing in his musk, and licked his bobbing penis. She swirled her tongue over the glans, lapping up his salty precum. Pressing her tongue against the engorged vein pulsing along the shaft, she suckled him. Intent on driving him mad she played, alternating between lollipop licks and hip-bucking sucks until she felt his quads tremble. With an audible ‘pop’ she released him.

“Goddamn…” He mumbled the rest of his words as she wrangled his jeans to mid-thigh.

Vanie shoved her panties and jeans down to the tops of her boots. She hovered over him for a moment then eased down with her knees splayed wide. Her shackled ankles rested between his calves; her shins pressed across his lower thighs. In a slow, sinuous roll of her hips, she slicked her labia over his cock. A long, gasping moan rumbled from her throat as Dare tortured her nipples again.

On her third pass, Dare arched up and thrust into her hot, wet channel. “Stop teasing me, Vanie.”

She sighed in pleasure as her vagina sheathed his cock fully. Rolling her hips in tiny circles, she said, “Never.”

“So evil.” He went for her tickle spot.

She shrieked. Her inner muscles seized.

“Holy hell. You’re killing me,” he groaned.

Giggles bubbled up out of her, taking her by surprise. God, when was the last time she’d laughed? Vanie collapsed against his chest. Her heart felt lighter.

Dare chuckled and stroked her back. “Are you going to make it?”

“Um-hmm.” A few more laughs hiccupped out as she caught her breath. “All better.” Rocking her hips slow and easy, she pressed kisses along his collarbone.

Dare met her stroke for stroke. His hands roamed over her body, playing with her breasts, squeezing her ass, cupping her throat. His fingers glided over her clit. Each touch ratcheted her higher and higher.

“Wait.” She wished she could stretch this moment out forever. A pocket of time where they were synched up body, mind, and soul, and her fears and worries couldn’t intrude.

Vanie sat up. Dare bent his elbows, offering her his hands for balance. She interlaced her fingers with his and rode him. Watching him, his eyes focused on her wobbling breasts, she felt the giddiness rise within her again. She closed her eyes and listened to the creak of the old floorboards, their rasping breath, and the soft sounds of her flesh moving over his — all of it sweet background music. Her head fell back as she absorbed every sensation. Her heart pounding like a kettle drum, her muscles twitching and coiling, the insistent throb in her clit that demanded immediate attention. She felt Dare’s muscles tighten down, heard the tempo change in his breathing. She unthreaded her fingers from his and touched herself.

“Look at me, Vanie.”

Tipping her head forward, she opened her eyes and focused on Dare. His dark eyes bore into hers. His wicked smile twisted into a grimace as he came. She circled her clit, faster and faster. Her own orgasm blowing through her like a tornado. Vanie crashed down again on Dare’s chest, completely wrung out and feeling so damned calm.

He held her to him. She stroked her fingertips over his cheek, down his stubbled jaw, then teased his lips. He nipped her fingers.

“Still need to get my boots off.” His words came out slurred.

“I call dibs on the bathtub.” It might be a minute or two before she moved. The sound of his galloping pulse beneath her ear lulled her.

“I know we’ve been fighting a lot lately.”

“Shh.” She pressed her fingertips to his lips. Couldn’t she have a few more minutes here in this cocoon of bliss?

Dare pulled her fingers away. “I can’t believe you thought I’d leave you. Damn near broke my heart to hear that. You can’t pry me loose, Vanie. You know you’re my constant. Right?”

The residual knot of worry inside Vanie loosened. “Right,” she whispered.

“When we get offers, we’ll talk them over. We’ll both — ” he emphasized the word — “decide whether to accept them or not. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’ll tell him we work together or not at all.”

What?! She lifted her head and stared at him. “Masterson?”

“Yeah. I want you at my back.” He palmed her breast. “We’re a team.”

“A team,” she repeated. “And what if I think the run’s too risky?”

“With the money he’s paying, we can afford to pick and choose.” Dare pinched her nipple making her jerk. “But I mean it, we talk it over and decide together. No more of this unilateral, shit.”

“All right.” Vanie laid her head down on his chest. “It really pissed you off that I took those jobs back home without talking it over with you, huh?”

“It did. And I know we are going to fight over jobs again in the future. I look forward to all the hot makeup sex.”

Oh yes, there would be fights as they hashed out the details. Vanie could live with that. A little more change wouldn’t kill her, especially now that she knew they were a solid unit again.

“Come on, get up.” Dare smacked her ass. “I hear that tub’s big enough for two.”

“Are you trying to distract me?” She rolled off him and sat up.

“That’s the idea, babe.” He winked at her then waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I plan on distracting you all night long.”

Some things never changed.

Vanie huffed out a laugh. “Well then, let’s get those boots off you.”

Copyright ©Andra Dill 2020