by Christa Wick
Now, with Declan pushing her hips against it then pressing on the back of her shoulders so that Melanie was forced to resist or drape her torso across the flat surface, she understood its purpose—or at least one of its potential uses.
Closing her eyes, she sighed as Declan massaged his way down her back, along her hips and ass until he was on his knees in the shower behind her.
With a brief touch against the inside of each leg, he communicated that he wanted them spread. She complied, her ass up high and her pussy splayed for his view.
Reaching one hand between her thighs, he stroked at the underside of where her clit dangled, expertly teasing the pearl inside. With his ass planted on the back of his calves and his spine curving, Declan brought his mouth against the opening of her pussy. His tongue pushed in and out as he continued rubbing her clit.
Beginning to wriggle and squirm, Melanie closed her eyes. He knew just where to touch to drive her wild, knew when to be firm or gentle. Feeling him adjust his position, she groaned.
Then gasped.
Her eyes and mouth opened wide in response and she bucked once as his fingers thrust into her pussy at the same time she felt the warm, wet tip of his tongue against her anus. With a shudder of need passing through her like a tornado, she bucked again.
Could he really be doing that...licking her there as his fingers fucked in and out of her pussy?
Her thighs tensed as her ass threatened to bob up and down, joining the thrusts inside her sex and the slow licks around that other hole. Her clit danced, eager to be stroked again. Reaching down, she touched it and almost exploded as Declan groaned in appreciation.
"Fuck, yes, baby," he encouraged and took another teasing poke with his tongue. "Stroke that sweet line for me."
Closing her eyes again, her mouth stuck open with surprise and the need to be fucked in its own right, she began to rub up and down the length of her clit, pinching and squeezing at the dangle of the hood each time she reached it.
Declan picked up her rhythm, penetrating both of her holes when she was torturing the pearl of her clit, retreating when her fingers soothed back up the spine. In, out, her hips pumping recklessly, wanting his cock in one or both of her holes, moaning and whimpering until she froze.
Her climax squirted and dripped, her pussy contracting wildly around three of his thick fingers while her anus sucked at the very tip of his tongue from the rapid pulse possessing her body.
"Please," she begged when the last of her release had been wrung from her still greedy body. "I need your cock in me."
Declan rose and kissed along the back of her shoulders but he didn't enter her.
"Please, I'm on the pill and..." she blinked, suddenly embarrassed by the admission she was about to make and afraid it would drive home for him just how differently the world viewed their bodies. "I haven't been with anyone since the middle of college."
His lips pressed and held against the curve of her neck.
When he lifted them, he made his own admission.
"It's been a long time for me, too." He laughed, the sound self-deprecating, and then he turned her until their gazes were locked. "I don't get around like the papers say I do."
She wasn't an actress, couldn't hide the skepticism his claim produced.
"Scout's honor," he said, his fingers held upward in what looked more like a Vulcan greeting than a boy scout's pledge. "I keep my cock on a short leash. Not the first few years in town. Sadly, most of those stories are true. But with all the crazies putting out, I started asking myself if I was willing to be connected to a woman for the rest of my life because of a life I might create with her. After all, precautions fail."
She thought, for a second, that he was telling her they had to wait. But then he cupped her face with both hands and drew her into a kiss, his tongue probing deep into her mouth as his cock pressed eagerly forward against the curve of her stomach.
"You're the first time," he said, ending the kiss, "that my answer is 'yes.'"
Tenderness flashed in his gaze only to be quickly burned away by desire. Turning her around, he draped her over the shelf again. He kissed along her back for a few seconds, his hands busy with different tasks. The left one reached beneath her to stoke her fires with a firm massaging of her clit. The other grabbed one of the smaller bottles on the shelf, snapped its lid open and dribbled something slick between her bottom and his cock.
He put the bottle back, its label facing her. A citrus scented lubricant guaranteed to make her tingle. He started spreading it around, first at the opening to her pussy and then along his erection. Abandoning her clit, he straightened, seized her hips and slowly breached the tight muscles guarding her sex.
Her pussy surrendered slowly, her climax of just a few minutes before ensuring she was tight and throbbing. Sighing with contentment, Declan ran his fingers up and down her back, a trail of lightning marking where he touched her.
He reached for the lube again, added more to his cock, his coated thumb working its way in around his fat crown to make her slicker. The head breached her fully and he took a few shallow pumps as the muscles deep inside her adjusted.
More lube, this time at the pucker of her anus. He rubbed the pads of both thumbs against the nervous opening as his thrusts inside her pussy began to lengthen.
"Touch yourself for me, Mel."
Sweet fucking hell, she would explode like an atomic bomb if she did that.
"It's safe to go wild with me, baby," he coaxed, the first of his two thumbs breaching her ass. "I know by the way your hips are dancing you want more stimuli right now."
He was right.
The second thumb invaded. Declan leaned across her back and whispered against her ear.
"I can't see your face, but I know the tip of that pink little tongue is centered against your top lip. I know your eyelids are fluttering just like your pussy is dancing around my cock."
She nodded, her throat constricting too much for words and her tongue frozen in the exact position he had described.
"Touch yourself, Mel. Let me feel you go wild."
He leaned back, straightening his spine, his hold on her firm but flexible. Melanie reached down with both hands and began to rub. Up, down, kneading her swollen flesh as her breasts scraped back and forth along the tiled shelf.
Shaking with effort, Declan forced himself to remain still, his thumbs and cock buried deep inside her. Her hips began to rock, her body locked in a rhythm of pushing then tugging around his invasion of her two holes.
He groaned, his fingers denting her fleshy bottom and hips as he held himself in place no matter how wild or frenetic her bouncing became. He said her name, called her baby, told her she was beautiful, sexy, and everything he wanted.
An unshakable tremor gripped her. Uncoordinated jerks infected her limbs as her climax built to the point she felt it would have to escape out her pores to be fully released.
Declan wrapped a hand around her throat, forcing her to straighten so that she wouldn't hurt herself against the shelf or wall. He braced his other arm diagonally against her stomach and breasts as he took control, his cock slamming hard into her as she flailed with her orgasm, crying out his name, water flooding her mouth just as his cock flooded her pussy, his shaft jerking hard inside her with the thick jets of his seed.
Wrung out, she started to sag. Kissing along her shoulders, one hand still around her throat and the other still braced against her torso, Declan gently removed himself from inside her and guided Melanie over to the bench.
Sitting down with her, he had Melanie rest her back against his chest, his hands massaging her thighs and breasts as he whispered delicious, wicked promises.
"I'm not letting you out of my bed today," he threatened sweetly and planted a kiss at the corner of her jaw. "I'm going to devour that pink pussy of yours, licking and nibbling at it while I put the toy inside you again, my fingers buried in your ass. I'm going to fuck you with your ass up in the air, your fingers on your clit. Then
I'm going to fuck that sweet, round mouth."
Melanie responded with a moan of consent, her mind untethered as he carefully led her out of the shower and dried her off, another towel wrapped around her as they ascended the stairs to his bedroom and he made good on every dirty promise and more.
They never made it to the garage for the drive along the coast at sunset. When morning came, she lamented the lost opportunity for that quiet moment in the outside world together as she woke to her phone ringing from down the hall and her name plastered on every celebrity gossip site the internet had to offer.
29
"Mel, don't pick that up."
Holding her robe shut with one hand as she reached for her phone with the other, Melanie turned to find that Declan had followed her down the hall, his own phone disappearing into the pocket of the running pants he had slid on after leaving his bed at the sound of someone calling her cell.
Her phone had stopped ringing before she could grab it. It started up again, the default ringtone playing. Everyone she considered friend, family or a good colleague had his or her own ringtone. The default tone playing meant it was a stranger calling.
"Why?" she whispered even though she was pretty certain of his reason for issuing the warning.
His mouth flattened, his head cocked to one side.
"Has it started?"
"Yes," he acknowledged, his fingertips brushing absently against the pocket into which his phone had disappeared.
Stepping forward, Declan wrapped his hands around her shoulders, pulling her closer as he kissed her forehead. Lost in his comforting presence, she barely felt him slip the phone out of her hand and stuff it in his other pocket.
The kiss was duplicated on her lips, its nature chaste and nurturing, like she needed him to handle her gently.
Maybe she did.
"I'll make us breakfast," he suggested. "It'll take about thirty minutes unless you want me to build in more time."
She shook her head. "That's plenty of time for me to shower and dress."
A final kiss, this one holding her against him, one hand cradling the back of her head as he coaxed her lips apart, and then he disappeared down the stairs.
Alone in the bedroom she had yet to sleep in, she could feel her tablet and computer sitting out of sight in the backpack on the dresser behind her. Eyes cast toward the floor, she moved to the dresser and pulled out clean undergarments. Keeping her gaze averted from the temptation of her electronics, she dipped into the closet, grabbed the first top and bottom she saw then escaped to the shower in Declan's bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, Melanie made her way downstairs. Declan was talking, the conversation one-sided and his voice low and tight. Rounding the corner to the kitchen, she saw him with his back to the island. The ingredients and cookware for breakfast were laid out, but otherwise untouched.
"I don't care what's being said," he ground out, his shoulder muscles visibly rippling with irritation and his grip on the cell phone tightening.
Melanie pulled back to where she could still hear him but would not be in his line of sight if he suddenly turned around.
"If you care, then I need another agent."
She backed further away, his voice trailing off as she tiptoed to the staircase and made her way upstairs to her bedroom. Out came the tablet. She thumbed it on then pulled up the browser and entered Declan's name. She read the first "top news" article from Celebrity Zone, her name included in the first paragraph and the byline that of Corbin Dash, the awful "journalist" who had reportedly been fired by the gossip site for trying to bribe her.
She blinked rapidly as Dash described her appearance based on his prior run in with her, suggesting but never directly stating that she had offered him inside information about Declan.
Ready to puke, she typed her name in the search field. Nausea filled her as she looked at the Twitter feed. There were photos being posted from sets she'd worked on where people had taken unauthorized behind the scene shots. Not only were the comments and retweets horrible, but many of the details were wrong. One image had her staring at something, her focus intent, a smile on her face. That one was listed as being from the alien film she'd just finished and was purportedly of her ogling Declan, but the picture was from two films before that. She recognized the shirt and had only owned it for a short time before it was ruined on set.
Several someones were doxxing her on Twitter and Facebook, posting her home address and phone number so she could be harassed. All of the accounts that originated the photos and her private contact information had been created the day before. The only profile she recognized as real was the photographer's assistant talking about what a bitch she always was on the lot.
She exhaled, wondering what the hell would be on her voicemail and in the text messages. Declan had been right to coax the phone out of her hands and pocket it. It was bad enough reading such vile comments on a public forum. Having them directed to her phone would be so much worse.
"Fuck," echoed in her chest as she put the tablet in the backpack and made her way downstairs once more.
Entering the kitchen, she found Declan absorbed in finishing up a fruit bowl while an omelet cooked on the stove top. She slid onto one of the stools on the opposite side of the island counter and shoved her hands between her thighs to hide their nervous shaking.
Putting the knife down, Declan wiped the fruit juices from his fingers and reached out to touch a lock of her hair. He cocked one dark blond brow in her direction.
"I remember a much longer drying time yesterday."
Her hair was far from dry, but it would normally be saturated after just a few minutes out of the shower. Of course, she'd exited the shower twenty-five minutes ago when she expected breakfast to be almost ready instead of not even started.
Shrugging, she reached forward and stole a slice of melon from the fruit bowl. Biting off a chunk, she forced a smile to her face then slowly chewed. Declan's mouth quirked but he turned his attention to the omelet long enough to cut it down the middle and slide the two halves onto plates.
He put one plate in front of her and the other next to her, then grabbed two glasses and filled them with a fragrant, pale tea and ice cubes.
"I ordered a new number and phone for you," he said before stuffing an overflowing forkful of omelet into his mouth.
Morbid curiosity had her itching to have her current phone returned, but she said nothing.
"Was there any message from my mom?" Melanie asked, guessing that he had looked.
"No," Declan answered quickly. "But Cammie wants you to know you have her ear whenever you need it."
I could use a lot more than her ear, Melanie thought as she glumly forced some of the food into her mouth, chewing and swallowing but never actually tasting the meal he had prepared.
She put the fork down and swiveled on the stool enough that she didn't have to torture her neck to look at Declan.
"I don't need a new phone or number. It will die down soon enough. Somebody's bound to overdose, wrap their car around a telephone pole, check into rehab, cheat on their spouse or whatever else happens in an average Hollywood news cycle."
He didn't reply immediately. Instead he speared one of the strawberry chunks from the bowl and popped it in his mouth. Melanie waited, patiently pushing parts of the omelet around her plate until he answered.
"At least let me delete and block the messages that have already come in."
"I'm a big girl—" She stopped, almost choking on her words. That she was a "big girl" was apparently the entirety of her problem. Clearing her throat, she continued. "I've heard it all before. Dealt with it all before. I'm an old hand at being insulted."
Sadly, that was true. She'd been told by complete strangers more than once that she shouldn't even exist because of her weight, that she was a drain on the world, and, horribly, that she should kill herself immediately instead of the slow suicide her weight presented.
The only difference between the last nineteen
or so years of her life—ever since she entered grade school—and what she had seen online that morning was that people had become creative in describing exactly how she should perish, their nastiness unfettered as they hid behind their phones and computers.
"Mel, I don't want you hurt by this—"
"I told you," she interrupted. "People have been hurting me for a long time."
A joke about thick skin died before it could reach her lips. None of this was funny. It was old and it was tired and she wished people would grow the fuck up.
"It's a lot to take in at once."
"So am I." The words slipped out, old defense mechanisms kicking in even if she didn't want to play any of this off as amusing.
Frowning at the joke, Declan curled one hand around the back of her skull and leaned in so that their foreheads touched.
"I want all of you, Melanie Lee. Don't put yourself down. And I don't want the things these vile people are saying to make you pull away from me."
Pull away was exactly what she wanted to do and her head reflexively rebelled against the hold he had on it.
"Don't," he said right before his mouth covered hers.
Her lips parted. She could taste the strawberry he'd just eaten and a little of the onion and peppers from the omelet. She closed her eyes, yielding as the kiss deepened. His other hand came up between them to rest lightly on her collarbone, the fingers moving in a soothing pattern.
She could forget the world when he was touching her like this. Forget the hateful slurs, the death threats and the suggestions she do the world—and her lover—a favor and kill herself. But they couldn't just keep touching one another until the furor died down.
At some point, the outside world would get in.
It always did.
30