Free Zombie Fighter Jango #1 The Road to Hell Is Paved With Zombies by Cedric Nye Page B

told me how you chest-jacked that Zombie that tried to get your chitterlings, remember?”
    She looked at her knuckles, then at her arms, and shrugged her shoulders. “I studied a whole bunch of different systems of fighting,” she answered, “But mostly just Krav Maga now.” Sonja was proud of her accomplishments in the various martial arts she had studied over the years, and it secretly pleased her that he had been able to figure it out.
    Jango nodded. The Israeli martial art of Krav Maga was a good system of practical ass kicking that he respected.
    “So, what’s the water jug for?” She asked.
    He smiled, happy that she had finally asked about the jug. He told her, “So you can see the kind of damage you can do with your stick. Go ahead and hit the jug with a stick punch.” Jango encouraged her with a smile.
    Sonja stepped forward, brought her shillelagh up, and moved forward, her whole body moving into the strike. The stick impacted the water jug with a sound like a small-caliber gun being fired, and the jug literally exploded under the impact.
    Her face broke out in a huge grin. “That. Was. AWESOME!” She shouted happily.
    Jango had a smile on his face almost as big as Sonja did, mostly happy because he finally had someone who shared his joy of destroying things.
    He held up his left hand for a high-five, and told her, “That was awesome. You really picked that up FAST!”
    Sonja gave him a high-five. She was still grinning, and she was flushed from her exertions. She held on to Jango’s hand when the high-five was over, a warm, lingering touch that shook him to his very core.
    His breath caught in his throat, as he felt a warm feeling spread from his stomach to his chest, neck, and then to his face. He felt like his body was bursting at the seams, and he didn’t know how to react.
    Jango’s mouth went dry, and he couldn’t think straight, much less speak. He had never had anyone touch him gently before, not like that. He could feel Sonja’s pulse in her hand, and, as he looked into her eyes, he wanted to kiss her so badly he felt like he would die if he didn’t. But he couldn’t move.
    Sonja saved him from his paralysis by dropping her shillelagh, grabbing the front of his jeans, and jerking him close to her. She grabbed the back of Jango’s head, and pulled him even closer as she kissed him on his mouth. Her tongue darted out, and pressed against Jango’s lips, softly, but insistently.
    His lips parted as if they had a will of their own and he put his arms around Sonja as he melted into her passionate kiss. She pulled away from him just long enough to take the stick out of his hand, and then she pulled him back into their heated embrace. Her lips were as soft as silk against Jango’s lips. Her tongue caressed his lips, then plunged into his mouth quickly only to draw back out. He kissed her neck, and tasted the salty tang of her sweat. 
    He felt his erection straining against the material of his jeans, like a starved beast that had been caged for too long, and had finally smelled food. He felt as if his whole body could explode at any moment, but he also felt…..good.
    When he was a child, sex was a terrible thing. Sex was to be avoided at all costs, and in the state-run gladiator academies that the social workers called boy’s homes, group homes, and foster homes, Jango had fought to NOT have sex.
    Later on, when he was a teen and then an adult, Jango had a few passing flings that mostly consisted of quickies in alleys behind bars, or in abandoned houses , standing, pressed against graffiti-marred walls and surrounded by garbage from other squatters.
    He had never known that anything could feel this warm and good.
    He let his hands wander over Sonja’s lithe, muscular body as they kissed. His hands went under her light cotton blouse, and the feel of her bare skin under his hands almost made him orgasm. He pulled away so he could look at her. He wanted to see her face, to see if he could read