He ignored the slap of the leather as she tugged it through the loops of his jeans. She fought with his zipper clumsily and laughed when she got his pants loose. “It makes me hot when you show your true potential.”
He watched her wriggle out of her jean shorts and instead of staring at her lustfully, his mind was on who he used to be. He didn’t want to be that person any more. He looked up at her and saw the feral look of lust in her eyes as she kissed down his chest.
Simon closed his eyes as she did her best to get him to rise to the occasion. He fought the urge to moan as she caressed him and he gripped the back of her head with his good hand.
She didn’t argue.
He tightened his grip and pushed her harder, his eyes locked on the stubbles of hair sprouting on her scalp. He felt his face harden as he took out his frustration on her, but rather than protest, the action seemed to increase her passion.
Simon relaxed his grip and simply watched as she serviced him. Although his body reacted, his mind was elsewhere.
Could he become what she wanted? Could he go against his newfound nature and be that person again? He felt he had made such progress, breaking away from the cruel narcissist he used to be.
He stared at her again and flashes of the violence he had committed in the past flashed through his mind. He saw the multitude of faces of those he’d crushed, destroyed…used. Faces that he didn’t recognize or even remember, but his subconscious knew them. The lizard part of his brain reveled in the power he exuded over others.
Simon felt his body react to her ministrations and he let himself go. He heard her groan with satisfaction and her head slowed its rhythmic bobbing. She released him with an audible pop and smiled at him, wiping at her chin with her little finger. “Oops. Almost spilled some.”
Simon gave her his best evil grin. “You ready for round two?” He asked as he grabbed her breast and pulled her towards him.
She actually giggled as she straddled him, aligning herself. “I’m always ready,’ she purred.
Simon watched her eyes slowly close and she threw her head back on her shoulders as she rose and fell. He fought the animal part of his brain screaming to be let loose again.
As much as he wanted to please Lana, he didn’t want to become the monster he once was.
He closed his eyes, doing his best to imagine only her…but faces of his victims continued to haunt him.
16
Buck’s head turned on a swivel as a stumbling man entered the neighborhood. He reached out and slapped Roger absently. “We got company.”
Roger looked at the pale, bald man as he gawked at the people roaming his neighborhood. He slowed and squinted in the bright sunlight. “Evelyn?” His voice sounded hoarse and dry.
Roger gripped the ladder and quickly climbed down. He snatched a bottle of water from the cooler and slowly approached the old man. “Sir?” He held the water out to him. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t find my wife.” His eyes widened at the sight of the water and he accepted it gladly. His fingers fumbled with the bottle and he gulped it greedily.
“Easy there.” Roger’s hand hovered near the bottle. “You want to sip that, not gulp.”
The old man lowered the bottle and coughed, clearing his airways. He bent over as he coughed and steadied himself on Roger. “I have to find my wife.”
Roger helped the old man out of the sun and Buck appeared at their side, another bottle of water in hand. “Are you hungry? Do you need medical attention?”
Roger held a hand up. “One thing at a time.” He turned back to the old man. “Did you live around here?”
The old man nodded as he rapidly sipped at the water. “Down the street.” He lowered the bottle and fought to catch his breath. “My wife…she was home alone when…” His voice trailed off and he looked to Roger for hope.
Roger shook his head slowly. “We didn’t find anybody here.”
“We’ve only been here a few days though.” Buck added quickly. “We could have scared her into hiding or…” He glanced to Roger. “Maybe she went out for supplies.”
The old man seemed to sag in his own skin. “She wouldn’t have left the house.” His legs gave out on him and he slowly lowered to the ground, the remains of his trousers puddling around his ankles. “She never would have left the house.”
Roger bent down next to him. “Which house was yours? Maybe my friend here can double check for you.”
The old man turned reddened eyes to him and slowly shook his head. “I have no idea how long I was…sick.” He swallowed hard and lowered his head again. “But she wouldn’t have lasted without me.”
“Was she housebound?” Buck asked.
The old man shook his head. “She was afraid that the world was too violent.” The old man scoffed and sat more upright. “She was right.” He sniffed back an unshed tear. “And without her medication she can’t function. She never remembers to take it. I have to make her.”
Roger held his good arm out. “Let’s help you find your house. Maybe somebody came to her rescue.” He gave him a sad smile. “Maybe they left a note or…”
The old man gripped his hand and slowly came to his feet. “If Evelyn isn’t home, then she’s…” His voice trailed off. “She won’t even get out of bed without her medicine.”
Buck noted how defeated he appeared and wished there was something, anything, he could do. “I’ll go through the house with you. Maybe we’ll find something.”
The old man nodded as the two helped him down the street. They came to a smaller, stucco house and the old man’s jaw
