Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1) Page 7

  Oh, good lord…

  “We’ll get supper going,” Em was saying, taking Oakley’s arm. For the life of her she couldn’t take her eyes off of Stone.

  “Sounds good. We’ll be waiting. You sending the women out?”

  “Yeah,” Em said, forcefully maneuvering Oakley behind her. “You can have your use of a few until dinner’s ready.”

  The dark-haired one was chuckling, slapping the shoulder of the other man. “I’ll make sure the guys at least clean up a bit in the spring.”

  “I’m sure the girls will appreciate that,” Em answered, sounding amused. The two strode off, Benvolio turning to walk away. Stone, however, was walking backwards for a while, still staring at her. Her heart was hammering away behind her sternum, and her skin felt distressingly tight and warm.

  “Holy shit, Oakley,” Em was chuckling, picking up a rope that was tied to the end of the sled. “Just get on your back right here.”

  “What?” she asked, innocently as she bent to pick up the other side of the rope’s loop.

  “Yeah, what.” Em was still laughing as she did most of the work getting the meat offering into the front entry.

  It took four of them to pull all that weight up to the top of the stairs. In the kitchen their arrival was greeting with loud whooping and clapping.

  The kitchen women fell on the meat like skilled vultures; immediately slicing the meat away from the bones inside. There was no blood which she found odd.

  “Why isn’t there blood?”

  “They roast it as soon as it’s caught, just to get rid of the fur and kill anything that might start growing in it. Meat can only keep so long. So they turn it over a fire a while. Then stuff it full of the hot rocks to cook from the inside out while they transport it. See? No maggots, no rot.”

  The ribcages of the two deer were suddenly wrenched wide open, and as they watched the awfuls were collected and thrown in two huge pots on the stove while the stones were discarded. “We use the organs for stock. They’ll cook most of the meat for supper tonight, keep some for stew the next couple days. The guys usually stay a few days and go out to keep hunting. We can make jerky from whatever else they catch.”

  Oakley was taking the process in. It was so interesting.

  “I’ve got to go tell the girls the men are ready for them. You want to stay here?”

  “No, I’ll come.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Oakley wasn’t sure why Em asked her that, but rather than see it as a warning Oakley replied, “Yes, I’m sure.”

  The sleeping quarters were in as much a tizzy as the kitchen had been. There was raucous laughter and shrill squealing. It was like nothing she’d heard in the commune up to this point.

  “Guys are ready, the ones that want to are cleaning up. If you don’t mind them dirty, head on down,” Em was shouting, making the audience pause before going into shrieks again.

  Very, very strange.

  “I want ‘em dirty,” Billie was declaring, prancing past the two women at the door in a barely-there top that did a terrible job wrangling in her impressive breasts. He ratted skirt was artfully slung low on her hips, showing the dimples of her lower back. “I’ll take the edge off a few,” she assured Em with a low voice.

  “Where’s your blade?” Em asked.

  With a smile Billie reached into her knee-high boot and pulled out a nasty-looking hunting knife. “I’m smarter than that,” she declared, dropping it back into place. “How do I look?”

  “Like a wet dream,” Em shouted at her retreating back, making the blonde titter as she bounced down the stairwell.

  The other two women that Oakley knew to be whores, Patty and Kitty, were close on her heels. Oakley watched them, trying to absorb how surreal the day had gotten. These men weren’t intruders to the Gypsies, but they were to Oakley. She was trying to figure out her place but now there was something distracting everyone from their adopted “normalcy.”

  She was an outsider again. Maybe even more so.

  The other women, who Oakley knew were regular contributors to the commune, filed out of the hallway next, all fluffing at their hair. They were all of them dressed much different from what she was used to seeing. More like the Gypsies they were named after; skirts made of layers of scarves and rags, tops with wide necks that hung off shoulders. Everyone had their hair loose and hanging down unrestrained.

  “You can help in the kitchen,” Em suggested, watching Oakley’s face. “I’ll go out there to make sure no one’s being abused. May will eventually be doing the same thing. But we’ve never had a problem.”

  “I want to come with you,” Oakley insisted.

  “All right then. Just remember, you asked.”

  Once again she fell into place behind Em, down the stairs and out into the overwhelming brightness of the outside world. She’d pulled the goggles on again, but the heat of the sun made the damn things even more insufferable than they had been on their own.

  The men’s camp was fifty feet from the front doors of the school. Aside from the fencing that surrounded the yard, they had erected another fence with barbed-wire curled along the top. Inside that their vehicles were parked, in the center a huge shipping container that Em had told her was just there. They kept a few vehicles in it and other projects Maxine worked on, but the Young Bloods also parked their dirt bikes inside to get them out of the blowing dust for a while. All this she learned on the walk.

  Army-green tents were set up throughout the camp. A center fire pit seemed to be used on each visit, and a man was already building a fire in it. He watched them walk past, and under that gaze Oakley was glad to not be dressed like the other women. She stuck even closer to Em, swallowing nerves.

  Closer to the back tents was where things got uncomfortable. She had no idea of her sexual past, but she was aware of what sex was. And here it was, taking place everywhere around her.

  Literally everywhere around her. She saw the blonde bombshell Billie, on the ground on all fours while a man behind her was thrusting his pelvis against her backside. A man in front of her had his pants open and her mouth was…well. Oakley had to look away at the one receiving oral gratification caught her eye and winked.

  “There’s a lot of stress to living these days,” Em said gently, stopping to face Oakley. “This is old-school release of the stress. Of all the things we used to enjoy in life before the bombs, this is the only thing that still exists. The only way to remind yourself you’re alive.”

  With that they were off again, walking amidst coupling bodies with no compunction for privacy. She couldn’t help but stare. Everyone one looked it was unbridled, primitive displays. Even Brit was out there, her arms wrapped a man’s shoulders, her legs tight around his waist. Her back was to the shipping container, the movement of the man’s hips leaving no question about what was happening. And Brit’s eyes were cast upwards, mouth open, as a scream ripped free of her. It certainly wasn’t a scream of pain.

  Another loud bellow brought her around in the other direction, and she was bright pink in the time it took her to realize the blonde man from before had obviously forgotten all about her. A girl named Maggie was on her knees in front of him, his hands twisting up her hair as he pushed against her mouth with his generous-sized…Ahem. Her eyes came up to his face, and he was staring at her again. Even with another woman doing…that, he looked her up and down, biting his lip again before throwing his head back and hollering.

  She stared, she would fully admit it. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, he was so beautiful. When it was done, he lowered his head, mouth still hanging open, to meet her gaze again.

  This time Oakley led Em away from the scene. Her face was blazing, and rather than being mad she was warm. All over.

  Once she was convinced all was well, Em led her back to the school doors. “Okay, head on up and get some rest before supper.” Her smile was sly. “I feel the need to maybe live a little too.”

  “What? Really?”

  E
m shrugged, backing away while shrugging. “It’s been a while, Oakley. Head on up. I’ll be fine.”

  Before Oakley could reply she was aware of people approaching from the opposite direction. Jo was smiling wide, along with May. Between them was a man with long medium-brown, sun-streaked hair dressed head to toe in desert camouflage. His goggles were pushed up on his forehead, revealing bright blue eyes. As the others had, his cast his study up and down her form without hiding it. She felt the same flutter she had when Stone had done it. This man was unbelievably handsome, and she knew who he must be before Jo spoke.

  “Oakley, this is Harley. He’s the Young Bloods’ commanding officer. Harley, this is Oakley. We found her a week ago.”

  “Oakley, huh?” His voice was a deep, rich baritone that wrapped her up warmly. When he took her hand she nearly jumped out of her skin. He caught the reaction and she was again assaulted, this time by a dazzling smile that brought out a dimple in one cheek.

  “Yes,” was her lame reply, since someone had to say something.

  “Is she really that good of a shot?”

  May shrugged, giving Harley a not-too-friendly sideways glance. “Too good for it to have been luck.”

  “Interesting.” His eyes went up and down her again, still not releasing her hand. “You got any other special skills Oakley?”

  “No,” she answered, not entirely sure she knew what he was asking.

  When he laughed in that hearty, male fashion she got what he was asking and her cheeks felt like they’d grown pinker. “Well, if you need anyone to teach you something, come find me.”

  She swallowed, then looked down at her feet and headed back into the school.

  In the room she was sharing with Em she collapsed onto the cot, staring up at the ceiling. Her blood still felt hot, and she wondered again at what Em had said. How sex was something that reminded them all that they were still alive.

  If alive meant mortified and uncomfortable, then yes she had to agree. While she knew she’d been protected from the worst excesses of the human condition she couldn’t equate all that frenzied fucking as anything other than terrifying.

  But looking back, no one wasn’t enjoying themselves. There was no struggle, no force. Everyone was absolutely willing and enthusiastic. Much like the women in that room of pleasure the other night, the night that had admittedly awoken something in her.

  As handsome as Harley might have been, it was still Stone’s eyes that took all her recollection of the past hour. The heat in them was enticing, and even watching him with someone else hadn’t changed that. No, she’d watched the way he was tensed and nearly at the mercy of the woman on her knees, just from how good he must have been feeling. His arms and chest had been strained, the vein in each bicep popped out, his neck strained under his beard. And his eyes on her…

  Oakley shuddered. She knew what he’d been thinking; he’d been imaging it was her pleasuring him. She just knew it. As unlikely as this fast attraction was, it was strong. Apparently lust could be instant and intense.

  And if she wanted to, she could have sex with Stone. She was perfectly within her rights to offer it. She held dominion over her own body. But what would that be like? She couldn’t see it being tender or caring. No, Stone would be rough, fast, hard, and overwhelming.

  Her hand fluttered on the center of her chest. She wanted that, but was she brave enough? She didn’t think so. It was just a fantasy.

  Oakley’s hand brushed over her own breast, and she nearly moaned out loud but bit her lip instead. Her legs rubbed each other, the thoughts in her head making her body clench low, ache with need. When she closed her eyes she imagined a large body looming over her, pressing her legs to the side out of his way, pressing her hands to the cot over her head and shoving his way inside of her roughly.

  As the image played through her mind Oakley’s hand moved lower, fingers pressing between her legs over the dungarees she’d been loaned. It was good, but not good enough. She shoved her hand down the front and into her underwear, fingers seeking out the spot that was torturing her with its burning ache.

  Her clit was overly sensitive, and as her finger slid over it she bit her lip harder, back bowing. Further down she felt the wetness that her body had issued forth, and she dipped two fingers into it before returning to her clit. With soft circles she brought herself to a silent orgasm, intense enough that fighting to keep quiet was a painful battle. But she accomplished it, her heart pounding loudly in her own head. She was out of breath and embarrassed, but no one was around. It was just her…her and the memory of that big body she was inexplicably hungering for.

  Chapter Six

  The men were leaving in two more days, which meant it was all downhill until they were finally out of her line of sight. Oakley had nothing against any of them; it was just their loud presence and blatant ogling. And while no one had laid a hand on her in all that time, she was anxious for them to move on.

  Although, to her own mind, only one of them she was ready to see the last of. And it wasn’t for unpleasant reasons. She just couldn’t concentrate when Stone was around.

  His nickname was perfectly suited to him. When he stared at her, his face didn’t move. If he was in her way, he made her go around him, immoveable. But there was heat in his eyes at all times when he was looking for, and it only made her nervous because she was worried that heat could catch and consume her.

  She was too timid to do anything about the attraction so she tried to avoid him, never initiating contact. However, it seemed to have the opposite effect of what she’d hoped. He knew she was avoiding him, he knew he made her uncomfortable in a very exciting way, and he seemed to take delight in torturing her.

  The second day they’d been there he’d started this tactic. He’d learned her name—she had no idea who had told him—but he knew it out of nowhere and was quick to remind her of it.

  She’d been tasked with bringing them soap the day after the arrival feast and the orgy that followed. She had clean towels, too, and they were all in a large basket that she was carrying out towards their camp. The wind was dead so it was all dust-free by the time she was able to set it down on a foldable picnic table set up by the tent that she knew to be Harley’s. It was almost like their head office. Just as the basket was being set down the tent flap opened and Harley stepped out, arms out to the sides as he stretched his back. He was naked to the waist, and his fatigue-style pants weren’t buttoned closed. And he knew she was staring.

  “Um, May said to bring soap and towels. For…for the men,” she stammered, hearing the break in her voice all the while knowing she was blushing.

  “That was mighty kind,” Harley drawled in that accented tone, stepping forward and picking up a bar of the handmade soap. He brought it close to his nose and she watched with fascination while he breathed in the scent. “This smells nice. Is this what you smell like, Oakley?”

  She swallowed, aware he was asking a question but unable to answer because his blue eyes were boring into her. Oakley was saved having to answer by the tent flaps once again parting to let out a woman that Oakley could never remember the name of and Abby. And Brit.

  Her eyebrows went high as the three women gave her a smile then went on their way back to the commune like they’d been out for a stroll. Her startled eyes came back to Harley and he was outright grinning. “See? We got the place to ourselves now. What do you say?”

  “No thank you,” she muttered and turned, intended to outright sprint to get away from him. Charming and charismatic, yes. But even with all that he didn’t measure up to the heat she felt for the man she immediately, literally, ran right into.

  She bounced off the wall of Stone’s chest, nearly falling. He caught her easily by the arm, keeping her from hitting the ground on her ass. And in one swift move he had his arm around her lower back. The suddenness startled her.

  “Oakley, isn’t it? You all right, sweetheart?”

  Oh no, he wasn’t getting to her with false concern.
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  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Look spooked there, Little One.”

  “I’m fine. Please let me go.”

  When he grinned her knees buckled a bit but he tightened his hold on her back. Lord, had he felt her literally get weak in the knees? “I could carry you back if you like.”

  She braced with both hands and pushed at his expanse of chest but he was solid. She couldn’t budge him. Yet, she didn’t feel fear. She wasn’t scared he would hurt her in any way. She was just really pissed that he was teasing her.

  “Let go of me,” she growled, and then did the only thing she could think to do. She grabbed one of his peaked nipples (wasn’t difficult to locate it, they were both hard and his T-shirt could barely contain anything), and twisted.

  With a bellow he let her go and she darted around him, sprinting to get back to the safety of the doors. But when she got there she looked back. He’d stopped following her about fifteen yards from the doors, and he was grinning. It was beautiful even from this far away, and she suddenly didn’t need to get inside and away from him anymore.

  He raised one hand and pointed at her, eyebrow cocked, grin still in place. “You fight dirty, Little One.” His hand dropped back to his side, casual. “Good for you.”

  Then he turned and sauntered off. She ignored the rolling muscles of his back, the tight fit of the seat in his jeans. Okay, ignored was likely inaccurate. She hated how attractive even the back view of him was.

  Since then it had been little inappropriate comments, said quietly so only she could hear. Every time she was near enough he’d lean in and ask if she wanted to know how his nipples were doing. Was there anything else she wanted to give a good tug? His eyes sparkled, but she rarely saw that smile return. And he didn’t touch her again, either.

  It might have been less annoying if she hadn’t felt so incredibly attracted to him. No, that wasn’t it. It was fine that she was attracted to someone. She wished she wasn’t so goddamn scared of him, scared of her strong physical reaction.