By Isabelle Drake
Each Sunday, I’m offering up a part of my serialized erotic zombie horror story, Servant of the Undead. If you’re new to this, please start with Part 1, “Do it.”
Part 3: “Thanks.”
“Um, hi?” she said, her smudgy eyes taking on a desperate sheen. “My name’s Mattie, by the way.”
Hayden reached over, trying to X out of the update email he’d been writing to Bob Keeler so he could shut down his computer. Her hands slid down from his waist, over his ass, and around thighs, the light pressure easily heating him up even through the thick material of his pants. Trying to ignore her and his lust, he jabbed at the keyboard, hitting whatever he could reach. He had to get the hell out of there before he started acting on the fantasies flickering in the back of his mind. This girl was going to get him into trouble, somehow. He just knew it. “I really have to get going.”
“But, you—I—” Mattie rolled herself around him, hopped onto the table, and wrapped her legs around him. She reached behind to brace herself with her hands but slipped back when her palm landed on one of the books. She looked back, stayed still for a few seconds, slid the books around, running her hands over the titles. “You’re reading about zombies?”
Hayden cleared his throat. “It’s research.”
“What did you find out?” she asked, flipping open the book with the pictures.
He reached around and pushed the book closed. “Nothing.”
She opened another, thumbed through the pages. “What were you looking for?”
“Anything. Nothing. Whatever I can find.”
She spun around and shimmied, her breasts bouncing. “I can help. What do you need?”
“Thanks, but I don’t think you can help. Unless you have proof that zombies are real. Like some pictures, you know. They’re combing the streets, looking for flesh. Haven’t you heard?”
She grinned up at him, her eyes shining with unmistakable lust. Was it for the zombies or him? “Sounds scary,” she said, lifting her eyebrows.
“Scary is right. If I don’t get something fresh about zombies my editor probably won’t give me any more special assignments.”
She didn’t say anything, just sat there rocking her shoulders, staring at him with her smudgy eyes, licking her pouty lips and looking exactly like a Barbie doll gone bad.
Why was he talking with her anyway?
Hayden tried to free himself from her thighs, but she was stronger than she looked. A lot stronger. He reached down to pry her legs off, but the rows of table lights went off, and he was blinded. His eyes began to adjust, making use of the light from the street lamps coming through windows. It was flickering from the snow, so it was still difficult to see clearly. He fought her legs again, pulling in a deep breath as he did. That scent settled across his tongue, spread to his teeth, making his mouth open.
Hayden gave up trying to break free from her legs and reached for her chin, tipping her face up to try and reason with her. “I think this section is closing, so—” When their gaze connected, his words fell away. Her eyes flickered in the darkness, glowing green.
She blinked, but the gleam came back as soon as her gaze found his again. It wasn’t the snow casting the light in her eyes. It was something inside her. Something that explained why she was climbing around in the night, not wearing a coat, not cold. Hayden slid his palm across her neck to settle on her throat. There had to be a pulse.
He was being totally ridiculous.
Just to be sure, he slid his hand down lower, stopping over her heart. The thick straps were in the way, so he tucked his fingers under them, stopping when he felt the swell of her breast. Before he could feel her heartbeat, she laid her hand across his and guided it lower, brushing his palm across her nipple. The peak tightened and she sighed softly, the sound a cross between a moan and whimper.
Hayden tried to move his hand lower, to feel the weight of her breast in his palm, but the straps were too tight, and his hand wouldn’t move. A thread of panic ignited his nerves, and he tugged. She moaned again, reached up to pull the straps from her other breast and pinch her own nipple, wiggling with satisfaction. His cock responded, the sudden flow of blood making him impossibly hard.
She dropped her hand and reached for his belt, her fingers working quickly to undo the buckle, the snap, and zipper. His cock jutted straight out, ready to thrust into her pussy despite the confusion and anxiety swirling through him. He tugged at his hand again, and it finally came free. But he was still held captive by her legs. With strong, sharp motions, she yanked him closer, tightening the grip around his waist as she lifted her skirt.
The black fishnet stockings ended near the juncture her thighs, just as he’d imagined and she was, in fact, without panties.
The dark wood of the table contrasted with her light skin, and the smooth lips of her pussy were slick and ready. The possibility of trouble was still there, but this other possibility—doing something crazy—was the one he was paying attention to. His dick was so hard he could drive into her with one thrust, he was sure of it.
Hayden grabbed her thighs, spread her legs and swung her forward, angling her so her hot sheath opened completely. He inched closer, so the tip of his penis touched her wet skin.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Fuck me.”
Want more? Here’s Part 4. Or, you can come over to the Servant of the Undead Wattpad page and read more for free right now. Unfamiliar with Wattpad? It’s an online community for readers and writers. Its filled with free fiction of all kinds. It’s easy to log in and get started; you can use your Facebook account.
Isabelle Drake writes erotica, erotic romance, urban fantasy, and young adult thrillers. Best Friends Never, her newest release is the first in the Cherry Grove dark YA series.