The Wrong Heart
Page 23
Melody turns to putty in my hands, and I feel her wetness seeping through my denim jeans.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” I finish, dragging my fingers up to her silky mane of hair, scratching her scalp. “Then I’m going to fuck you.”
Before she can respond, I lean forward, nibbling her bottom lip, my tongue poking out for a quick taste. I kiss her gently—once, twice. And then my mouth claims her in a desperate, needy kiss, pulling a deep groan from my chest when I push my tongue between her teeth and taste her for the first time. She whimpers in return, her nails digging into my cheeks as she coasts her tongue along mine. I’m reckless and wild, the feel of her so intimately woven with me igniting something I’ve never experienced before. Something alarmingly addicting.
We tangle and dance, her warmth invading me, her light healing me from the inside out, and I feel like I’m drowning, sinking deep and endless, but it’s okay…
I know she’s there to catch me.
Pulling back for a breath, I clutch her in a fierce, possessive hold, rasping out, “You taste exactly like your smile.”
Melody’s chest heaves as she drags her nails down my jaw, then my neck. “What does it taste like?”
“Mine.”
Another whimper hits my ears as we collide. I angle her face against my mouth, devouring her while my hips arc up, seeking the hot friction between her thighs. I’m rock-hard, my dick throbbing in my jeans, aching to feel her sheathed around me once again, tight and wet. My fingers wind behind her head to lace through her hair, forcing our lips to stay locked together as I use my opposite hand to reach down and unzip my pants.
Melody squirms on top of me, inching her dress up over her waist, then helps tug my jeans down. My hips lift automatically until I’m pulling my cock from my boxers and she’s positioning herself over me, reaching between my legs.
Her fingers curl around me, stroking my length in her small, tight fist. My head falls back, a hiss escaping, when she rolls her thumb over the tip, wet with arousal. “Fuck, Melody. Don’t make me come in your fucking hand.”
She kisses me, sweeping her tongue along the roof of my mouth, then pulls back and asks huskily, “Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”
Fuck, no.
Melody is my first.
My first kiss, my first hand job, my first goddamn brush with humanity.
“Just you,” I ground out, barely able to make out her hand pumping me slow and steady through the veil of darkness. But I see her eyes flash by way of ethereal moonlight, dancing with prowess, alight with desire. “Only you.”
Her lips find mine, her hand still jerking me, and our moans blend as one. “God, I love kissing you,” she sighs.
“So, kiss me,” I say back, hardly coherent, biting at her lip. “And ride me.”
Melody makes this mewling sound that causes my dick to twitch in her hand. She lets go of me to yank her underwear aside, then situates the tip of my cock at her entrance, hot and slick. It takes all of my effort not to lose it and come undone like a total fucking tool as I slip inside, only an inch. She hesitates, her fingers drifting to the hem of my t-shirt, an attempt to tug it off me.
I grab her wrists. “No.”
Her expression wilts for just a moment, a shadowy frown staring back at me through the dark… but then she nods.
An understanding.
Instead, she reaches for her own dress, pulling it up over her head until it’s discarded, and her hair falls down in champagne waves. I weave my hands behind her back to fumble with her bra clasp while she continues to tease my dick, and I swear I stiffen even more the second the lace fabric slips free and her breasts are exposed, bathed in a hint of milky moonlight.
Fuck, she’s pretty.
Melody grips the back of my head and thrusts her tits in my face as she sinks down onto my cock. I bite her nipple with a sharp grunt, causing her nails to pierce the base of my skull. “Parker…”
She grits out my name in a way no one ever has before. So defenseless. Unarmed. Melody gave me something that night in the rain when I fucked her against her shed like a goddamn animal, and I understood the value in it. It was raw and dirty, but it was precious, too. She gave me something she had only shared with one other man—her husband.
It scared the shit out of me.
But right now she’s giving me something else, and it’s more than just her body. It’s more than flesh and moans, or the way she’s taking my cock like it was fucking made for her.
She’s giving me real, genuine intimacy, a piece of her heart, and I don’t know what to do with it. It’s in the way her forehead rests against mine, her eyes pinned on me while she rises and falls in my lap with each frayed breath. It’s in the way she clings to me, her fingers curled around the nape of my neck, thumbs dusting over the skin beneath my ears.
It’s in the way she just said my name.
Normally, I’d resist vulnerability like it were poison, reacting with my own anger and venom. But I’m not angry, I’m just unfit and out of my goddamn element, so I funnel those feelings into passion instead, snaking my arms around her back, fisting her hair hard, and fucking her until she cries out.
“Ohhh, my God,” Melody moans, squeezing me tighter.
I angle my hips, thrusting upward and holding her in place, hitting a spot that makes her damn near untether. I’m not small—hell, pretty sure I’m a lot bigger than average—and she’s so fucking petite and breakable, I’m afraid I might hurt her. Tugging her head down, I grit out into her ear, “You okay?”
Her hair tickles my nose when she nods. “Feels so good,” she mutters hoarsely. “You feel so good.”
Melody grips my shoulders and straightens, throwing her head back and gyrating up and down, twirling her hips. I latch onto those hipbones, my fingertips digging in hard enough to leave little bruises behind, and I pull her to me, sucking a taut nipple into my mouth. She bounces in my lap, moans and whimpers escaping her every time she slams down, hitting that sweet spot.
Jesus Christ, I could get used to this.
“Keep making those sounds and I’m going to go fucking feral on you,” I hiss, my fingers scratching down the light layer of sweat casing her spine while hers grab fistfuls of my hair.
It feels like I’m tearing her apart, and she’s piecing me back together.
“Do it,” she says, still riding me, still taking me to the hilt. “Don’t hold back.”
A growl rattles my chest, and I pull out of her, scooping her up in my arms and throwing her backwards onto the couch. Climbing over her, I’m tempted to flip her over, make this less personal, less intimate somehow… but I don’t. My jeans and boxers hit the floor as I kick them off, her underwear following, and then we’re face-to-face, our expressions shrouded in silhouette as I situate myself between her spread thighs and push back in.
Our groans are mutual, my palms trailing up to her cheeks, cupping her more gently than I’d intended, while my thumb drags down her bottom lip.
I move in for a kiss.
Melody’s arms link around my neck, her legs crossing behind my lower back, and our mouths lock, every single piece of us hopelessly entwined. I think this is where I’m supposed to unleash—go savage on her, leave her bruised and quivering, begging for more through her fucking tears. But my hips move with deep, deliberate strokes, my tongue exploring her, more lazy than desperate, and my hands continue to cradle her face with tenderness instead of crazed urgency. There’s a power in the air, some kind of palpable charge, and when I pull back from her lips to meet her eyes, I know she feels it, too. The exact same sentiment twinkles back at me like a sky full of stars.
Our eyes continue to hold as my pace increases, thrusting into her while she holds me so fucking close, I feel like I’m suffocating and purging at the same time. Our noses knock, our lips hovering together, barely touching, breaths hot and needy. Her body tenses beneath me as I grip her face in a possessive, clingy clutch, unable to tear my gaze from hers.
“Fuck…” I breathe against her lips, drunk on this feeling—this unfamiliar fucking feeling. “You’re so goddamn sexy when you’re about to come.”
“God, don’t stop…”
I don’t want to stop. I don’t ever want to stop, and the notion is equally thrilling and terrifying.
With my own release climbing, I lean down to kiss her hard, our tongues instantly battling, seeking and craving. I feel her clench around my cock, her whole body tautening, bracing for climax, and I lose myself in it all—in her pleasure, in mine, in the chemicals threatening to incinerate me, in her fucking kiss that I can’t seem to get enough of.
One more jerk of my hips, and she cries out into my mouth, gripping my hair so hard it would hurt if I weren’t completely consumed by the feel of her pussy contracting around my dick, causing me to fucking unravel.
“Fuck, Melody,” I groan, pulling back from her mouth to bury my face into the curve of her neck, holding her tight as I come inside her, pulsing and breaking.
The waves hit hard, taking me under. Melody squeezes me as I collapse on top of her, riding out the feeling until I’m nothing but shudders and shockwaves, crushing her with my weight. Her palms slide up and down my back, over the fabric of my shirt, the only barrier between us. It’s a comforting sweep of her fingers, and I lose myself in her touch for one blinding moment as I shift my weight beside her on the couch.
What was that?
What the fuck was that?
It was just supposed to be sex—simple biology. A physical reaction.
But it felt like a goddamn resurrection.
We lie there in silence for a few long heartbeats, my head tucked into her shoulder, and my arm draped around her middle. The smell of sex and sweat hovers in the air, mingling with traces of her lemony shampoo.
Melody’s chest heaves with a labored breath. Shaky fingers dance along the expanse of my forearm as she whispers, “Are you okay?”
She echoes my words from earlier, but they are not the same.
I don’t have an answer for her because I don’t fucking know. I’m not okay, not at all. I feel dismantled and picked apart. Lost. Drowning in confusion and uncertainties.
And yet, I feel the most okay I’ve ever felt.
The only words I can muster as I stew in my inner turmoil are, “Sorry I held back.”
She asked me not to hold back, and instead of going apeshit on her, I took it to a weird-ass vulnerable place. Fucking dumb.
But Melody only gives my arm a gentle squeeze, sighing as her breathing steadies. “You didn’t.”
Swallowing, I try not to dissect the meaning of her words. I just lie idle beside her, my frazzled thoughts dying out and pacifying when she twists in my embrace and nuzzles into me, a sweet kiss meeting the side of my neck.
Once upon a time, the dark was my enemy—the place where I had never felt more alone.
But not tonight.
Tonight it’s where I’ve never felt more alive.
—TWENTY-SIX—
I really could get used to this.
We take the liberty of using our fifteen-minute meeting break to sneak out to the parking lot and fuck in the back of Melody’s Camry, like two horny teenagers.
It’s been a week since our intimacy-laced rendezvous on my living room couch, where she fell asleep on my chest like a satiated lover, and I stared up at my ceiling fan trying to count the amount of times it spun around in unsteady circles. Melody’s languid breaths were a muted soundtrack to my racing mind, mingling only with Walden’s wheezy snores from across the room and my kitchen faucet leak. The morning-after came quickly, with Melody stirring awake just before five A.M., and I drove her to her car still parked at Breaker’s.
We didn’t say much, but it was a comfortable sort of silence, brimming with quiet musings, heated glances, and the occasional smile from her. Melody even reached for my hand during the drive over to the bar, squeezing it in her warm palm, transmitting a flurry of feelings that shot straight to my heart. Before she hopped out of my truck, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips, something sweet and wistful, murmuring softly, “Thank you.”
I was too fucking tired to decipher the meaning.
Thanks for the good dicking?
Thanks for the really uncomfortable few hours of sleep on my small ass couch, my elbow jabbing into her ribs, when there was a bed right down the hallway?
Maybe she was thankful for my impeccable hosting abilities. I didn’t offer her anything to drink or eat—I basically just fucked her senseless, then sent her on her merry way.
I’m not exactly sure what she was thankful for, but I know what I’m thankful for right now—the feel of her crumbling in my lap, coming so hard, her nails almost pierce through my cotton t-shirt as her teeth bite into my shoulder to stifle a sharp moan.
A prideful smile lifts on my mouth when she pulls herself up in my lap, eyes drunk with post-orgasmic bliss, cheeks flushed bright pink. Her hair is chaos, matching the energy swimming in the air. “That was quick,” I tease, gliding my hands down her spine.
“I’ve been waiting all week for that.”
Fuck.
Me, too.
I’m pretty terrible at the whole communication thing, but I’m really fucking trying.
I texted her.
The night following our hook-up, I texted her because I was thinking about her. I was thinking about a particular sound she made, kind of a raspy mew, wondering the exact thing I’d done in that moment to procure such a sound, so I could do it again, a million times over.
So goddamn sexy.
I was also thinking about the texture of her hair, cashmere and cotton, clearly not from this world.
Witchcraft.
Then I was thinking about those glistening tears in her eyes when I’d confided in her about my shitty past, why they were there, what prompted such an emotional reaction from her because emotion means she cares—and I don’t fucking understand why she cares.
About me.
I’ve kind of been a dick to her, an asshole, really, and yet she continues to hurl her empathy at me. She continues to invade and intrude, reaching deeper every single time.
Why? Why me?
So, I decided to text her and get the plethora of burning questions off my chest, but all I ended up sending was: “Hi”
Melody responded with her own “Hi,” but hers was followed by one of those little happy face emojis because she has a vagina.
And that was it.
Luckily, Melody didn’t seem too pissed when I sauntered into the meeting today with a strange flickering of nerves erupting inside me. She sat in her usual seat, one leg crossed over the other, looking prim and innocent despite the blazing, come-hither “fuck me” eyes she kept spearing me with throughout the meeting. The moment we were released for break, she swept past me with a saucy smile, smelling like orange peels, a blatant invitation to follow.
One minute later, we were climbing into her backseat until I was balls-deep inside her, and now she’s sprawled against my chest, a mess of satisfied limbs and erratic heartbeats.
Weaving my fingers through her wild mane of hair, I pull her in closer until our lips touch. I’m still rock-hard inside of her, aching for release. “You were waiting to get fucked again?”
Melody clenches some kind of magical muscles that cause me to jerk with a groan. “Yes. I was also waiting for something else.”
Here we go…
“Better communication, I get it. I really fucking suck—”
“Not that.” Her smile alludes to the fact that she isn’t pissed or resentful. “I actually appreciate that you tried. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
My dick wants to know why she stopped moving, but I muster
a nod.
“That’s not what I meant, though.” Melody climbs off my lap until I’m slipping out of her, her small fist replacing her pussy. She tucks her sundress down with her opposite hand and leans over me, green eyes lifting to sink me with implication. “You said you fantasized about my mouth on you…”
A response doesn’t even make its way to my lips before hers are wrapped around my hard cock.
Oh, Jesus, fuck.
I must’ve said that out loud because she smiles around me, using her palm to fist and stroke the base in time with her fevered sucks and eager tongue. My head drops against the headrest, a tapered grown expelling from my chest as my fingers sift through her hair, gathering those silky strands and guiding her head up and down. The image of her bobbing on my dick, taking me deep into her throat, is almost enough to send me spiraling. “Mother of fuck, Melody. I’m not going to last long.”
Embarrassing, but true.
She moans as she pumps me with a tight hand, slow at first, lapping at the pre-cum that coats her tongue. Her movements steadily grow quicker as she jerks me, and I watch in utter fucking bliss as she sucks me off and brings me to my goddamn knees.
My grip tightens on her hair, my hips instinctually arching up as my climax builds. “You’re going to make me come down your fucking throat,” I hiss, my body damn near trembling as she hollows out her cheeks and sucks hard.
Fucking hell.
I lose all control, my body surrendering when an orgasm seizes me, and I spill into her mouth with a groan, watching as she fucking takes it, swallowing me down while she makes that sexy little mewling sound.
“Jesus…” I grit out, both hands tangled in her hair as she finishes me off.
When I come down, I’m dazed and out of breath, a little slap-happy, but mostly thankful.
I’m thankful for Melody March and her perfect fucking mouth.
And I’m really thankful for tinted windows.