by Susan Stoker
“You wouldn’t haul me to jail with your son in the van,” Lucy challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t arrest me either, because you’re too much of a pussy to do that. Everyone in town would—”
In the overhead light, Melanie saw Brock’s face turn bright red and his throat blotched too, with what looked to be hives. This woman gave her hives too. His breaths came in short, uneven snatches as his head did a slow spin on his neck to meet Lucy’s eyes.
“The people of this town already think I’m a pussy for putting up with your crap for as long as I have. Now, if you don’t haul your ass back to that van and take Brady home, I’m calling Rowdy. I’m sure he will take great pleasure in arresting you.”
Lucy stared at him a minute grinding her teeth, then turned and stomped back toward the van. His shoulders finally relaxed when the brake lights on the van turned red, before Lucy did a three point turn and zoomed past them on the gravel driveway.
Melanie clicked off the recorder, handed Brock his cell phone, then scooted over on the seat. “Make sure you save that recording to your cloud. If she sues you for custody, it’s proof she’s playing games.”
Brock just sat there for a minute staring at his phone, before he turned his eyes to her.
“Thanks, but I won’t be needing this because I know she’s blowing smoke. They’re not going to help her exclude me from his life because I do too much for her and Brady. It would be a waste of their time and money to try, and it would mean they’d have to do more. I’ll apologize to her tomorrow and it’ll blow over.” He tossed the phone into the console, put his foot on the brake and grabbed the gear shift. “I’ll just take you home.”
“You’re going to let her win—just like that?” Melanie asked turning in the seat to face him as he put the truck into reverse. “Maybe her summation is right then, but I’d add coward to that too and maybe quitter. That’s why she continues to do this to you, Brock.”
Brock’s foot hit the brake again hard, throwing Melanie toward the dash. He slammed the truck into park, then opened the door. “Take the fucking truck home. I’ll get Rowdy to pick me up in the morning to come and get it.”
With that he shut the door and stormed toward the house, leaving Melanie to watch. He was almost to the stoop when his knees buckled and he fell in the yard. In the headlights, she could see his shoulders shaking. Raw, agonizing pain sliced through her chest, pressure built in her skull and Melanie bent over feeling sick. It was like his pain transmitted across the yard to her and became her own. Hollow, empty, desperate—alone.
Help him.
Fist at the center of her chest, Melanie reached for his hat on the dash, turned off the truck and headlights, then opened the door. By the time she made her way across the dark yard to the stoop, Brock had gone inside but the door was open so she went in.
Chapter Thirteen
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“Brock?” Melanie said, as she laid his hat and keys on the kitchen table.
She called his name a few more times as she walked through the dark house, because it was very quiet, she knew he had guns there and she did not want to get shot because he thought she was an intruder. Every few seconds she’d stop to listen for an answer—or a sound of any kind—but heard nothing. She stood at the end of the hallway she assumed must lead to the bedrooms and listened again.
A faint agonized moan came from the end of the hall and she quickly ran that way, her heart rising closer to her throat with every step. She stopped at the last door on the right, and heard another weak moan. Without thought, Melanie opened the door and flicked on the light. Her eyes followed the trail of boots, jeans and underwear that led to the bed where she saw Brock curled into a fetal position on top of the covers, his back to her.
The pistol on the bed beside him caused her blood to turn to ice in her veins and she hurried to the bed, picked it up and put it on the nightstand with a shaking hand. Melanie sat on the bed and he mumbled into the pillow he was hugging.
“Go home, Melanie.” The hopelessness in his voice caused that knifing pain to slice through her chest again and she rubbed her sternum.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, swinging her legs up onto the bed, but then changing her mind and going to turn off the light. Some conversations were better had in the dark, she thought, as she pulled the switch down. Melanie left a trail of clothing on the way back to the bed too and was naked by the time she knelt on the edge to pull back the cover on her side.
“My fucking stomach hurts so damned bad,” he moaned, and Melanie’s stomach hurt too.
“Get under the covers, Brock. Let me help you,” she said, tugging them.
“Nobody can help me—my life is a fucked-up mess and it’s all my damned fault.”
“No, it’s only partly your fault for letting manipulative women—a manipulative woman—control you,” she replied, sitting on the side of the bed.
“All women are manipulative in one way or another,” he replied darkly. “The fucking bane of my existence.”
He was obviously painting her with that broad, black brush too.
“I’m a woman, and I assure you I’m not trying to manipulate you. I just want to help, so stop with the pity party and let me do that.” Her eyes darted to the nightstand where she’d put the pistol and a shiver racked her as the otherworldly words she’d heard as plain as day in the SUV came back to her. Help him. The words worked in her throat for a second, before she could manage to push them out. “Killing yourself isn’t going to help Brady, or anyone else.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!?” he roared, before the bed rocked and strong arms clamped around her waist.
Melanie squeaked when her butt left the bed and she was rolled over and then trapped under a very heavy hard body. He dragged in ragged breaths and his exhales heated her face. “I assure you that will never be on my agenda, because contrary to what you think, I’m neither a coward or a quitter. I’m just having a fucking mental meltdown at the moment and if you would leave me alone to have it with a side of bleeding ulcer, tomorrow morning I will be fine!”
“You have an ulcer?” she asked, her stomach knotting. Without proper care, especially with the stress he was under, that could cause major problems. “I can write you a prescription for—” she started, but his hand covered her mouth.
“I don’t need a prescription. I just need some peace…a break from all this for a few days,” he said, sliding his palm off of her face.
“My daddy had an old shack up in the mountains. He went up there when he needed a mental vacation,” she said softly. “I went with him a couple of times and he took me hunting when things got too much for me.”
“You hunt?” Brock asked with disbelief in his tone.
“Daddy said it was better than killing people, and he was right. I got very close to that point a couple of times with the harassment at school.”
She felt his heat before his mouth touched hers in a slow delicious pass that curled her toes. “I’m so sorry you went through that, baby,” he whispered, and his breath electrified her lips. “Sorrier that I didn’t help you.”
“I survived and so will you. But I do think an off-the-grid hunting trip would help you. That cabin is still there and I’m sure Mom hasn’t gotten rid of it.” Her mother may not even know it existed. “I’ll take you up there tomorrow, and you can stay as long as you want to get your head together,” she offered. “But I have one condition…”
“What’s that?” he asked, his voice sounding a little less stressed.
“You leave your cell phone on the kitchen table. I don’t want Lucy or anyone else, including myself, to bother you. Take your shotgun and fishing pole, because there’s a pond there too. How does that sound?”
“That sounds like just what the doctor ordered,” he replied with a laugh that loosened the knot of tension in her chest a little more. His body tensed and he sighed.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked.
�
��I can’t go—there’s nobody here to feed the animals.”
“I’ll stay here—I planned to anyway, to finish that list we started. You showed me the ropes today, so I can do it. I’ll just spend the day at Mom’s and stay here at night. I think they resent my interference anyway.”
His lips slid across her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “You are a meddling busybody,” he murmured before he dropped a kiss there. “But I love that about you because your heart is in the right place.”
Her heart was in her throat right now after hearing those words—the L word mentioned—in context with her name.
Brock shifted his weight off her, dragging his lips over her cheek to the corner of her mouth leaving a trail of wet fire. His mouth covered hers and he swallowed her mewl in a kiss that scorched through her. His hand skimmed up the side of her thigh, over her hip, dipped into the curve of her waist, then finally came to rest at the underside of her left breast where his thumb stroked in irritating brushes. He didn’t move it up to where she needed to feel his touch, her painfully hardened nipple.
A frustrated moan gurgled up her throat and entered his mouth when she opened for him to kiss her deeper. His tongue fenced with hers and every muscle in her body twitched as his cock hardened against her thigh. But he didn’t move that hand and she couldn’t fully enjoy the off-the-charts kiss because the friction of his thumb on her skin was so irritating, enflaming—the need it created in her too intense.
With a growl she felt inside her chest, he shoved his right hand under her head into her hair to hold her skull as he devoured her mouth. Tension ratcheted up inside her body, moisture flooded her folds, but all she could focus on was the irritating brush of his thumb on the soft skin under her breast. With her nerves frenetic, Melanie finally couldn’t take it anymore so she reached for his wrist and dragged his hand over the peak. She felt his lips curve in a smile, before he pulled back to look down at her in the dark.
“You want my mouth on your breast, baby?” he asked with a dark laugh, and a tremor rocked her, her clit throbbed because there were other places she wanted that talented mouth too.
“Yes,” she hissed, a little angry he was obviously teasing her.
“All you had to do was ask,” he said, raking his thumb over her rigid nipple making her groan loudly. He circled it, then flicked his nail over the sensitive tip and her whole body jerked. Brock leaned over her and breathed on her nipple, his tongue darted out to wet it before he sucked her into his mouth. The firm tugs sent electricity zipping down the high-voltage highway of her nerve endings to sizzle at her clit, ride along the rails down her folds to her anus and buzz there. Melanie moaned, arched her back into him, drew shallow breaths as she tried to lasso the orgasm barreling down on her. He hadn’t even touched her clit yet—she’d probably come in two seconds. Her inner muscles flexed as he sucked, licked and teased her to insanity.
The pressure of his lips eased and Melanie whimpered, but that turned into a loud moan when his teeth closed around the bud. He worried it with his tongue, flicked it and excited jolts spread in every direction. His head moved back and his teeth dragged her with him. Melanie fisted the sheet and a guttural moan flowed from her lips until he finally released her.
Brock’s palm skimmed down her body and her muscles quivered under his touch. His fingers curled over her mound, slid lower until he dragged his fingers back up through her folds and her body jerked when they dipped inside her opening.
“You’re quivering…that is so damned hot,” he growled, and his words made her wetter, made her walls vibrate around the digits. “I want to taste how much I excite you—smell it.” He plunged them inside her body. Melanie’s hips bucked but he withdrew and brought his hand up to his nose to inhale deeply. Holding her gaze, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked each one clean. “Sort of like salt water taffy. Here taste,” he said in that whiskey-laced voice as he stroked his index finger over her lips, then dipped the tip into her mouth.
Salty sweetness exploded over her taste buds, a bolt of pleasure shot up her body and paralyzed her as a violent tremor rocked her. “You’re going to make me come before you even touch me,” she whispered, through chattering teeth as her body thrummed with desire.
“No worries, baby—there will be more where that one came from. I promise.” Brock chuckled as he circled the wetness on his finger around her nipple. When he leaned down to blow on it, Melanie shivered, squirmed and wrapped her calf around his.
“I need more now,” she pleaded. She tried to squirm from under him, so she could take control, but he pinned her to the mattress with his big body.
“Good things are worth the wait. You’re proof of that—now just relax,” Brock murmured, as he bent to suck her right breast into his mouth and his hand trailed south down her body. He nudged her legs apart with his foot, then trapped them with his calf.
His hand found her wetness again, fire streaked up Melanie’s body and she groaned when he rolled her swollen nub between his fingers. Her hips worked with his fingers, he pressed harder, sucked her deeper into his mouth and pressure built in her body.
Warm waves of pleasure crashed at her midsection, the next wave at her breasts, wet heat surrounded her nipple, his teeth abraded the hyper-sensitive tip sending sharp pleasure pain to confuse her brain. Melanie floated on the gentle ocean of pleasure, let it suck her under. Faint tremors started at her toes, her legs shook then her body rocked like she’d grabbed an electric wire. Brock bit down on her nipple, not gently, as he pinched her clit, hummed his pleasure against her skin as he rolled the bud harder and his pinky finger rimmed her opening.
The peaceful seas turned into angry white caps that shook her, sucked her into a whirlpool of an orgasm that dragged her down into a chasm of pleasure so intense she felt herself leaving her body. Grabbing his arm, she dug in her fingers to hold on, begging him to free her, hoping he held her right there. And he did until the last tremor rocked her and her spent body collapsed back onto the mattress. She didn’t smoke, had never smoked, but she could sure light up right now if she had one.
Melanie didn’t have a whole lot of sexual experience, but the experiences she had were not anything like this. Those other men got the job done, made sure she got there, but didn’t spend the time he was spending driving her wild—making her insane for him. Making her want him so badly if she didn’t have him soon she might die. That’s what she felt like right now.
She was relieved when Brock moved down her body, kissing and nipping his way to her feet where he knelt and pushed her ankles apart. Relieved, her body humming with need, Melanie let her knees drop wider and he crawled in between. She leaned up to reach for him, but he shoved her shoulder down.
“You just lay there and let me drive. You almost made me wreck earlier, so it’s my turn now,” he said, and she knew he was grinning even though she couldn’t see his face. She heard it in his voice.
“You didn’t seem to mind,” she said, with a pout. “You’d have died with a smile on your face and my lips on your—Oooh,” she gasped, when he lifted her lower half off the bed to scoot under her, then rested her weight on his thick thighs. His hot, steely length pressed against her ass and her inner walls clenched.
He shoved his hand under her thighs and lifted her higher, scooted closer until only her shoulders touched the mattress. He put her calves over his shoulders and his hands clasped at her waist to hold her in place. “Put on your seatbelt, beautiful,” he said as his face lowered between her legs. His hot breath brushed her slick folds and Melanie tensed, whimpered.
“No, Brock—please—just—” she whined tiredly, but his arms banded tightly at her waist holding her captive. She couldn’t move as his tongue flicked at her opening, her brain seized and her body vibrated. He plunged it inside and her walls sucked at him as he slowly rimmed her opening and her muscles twitched in response.
Brock moaned, his lips spread and he slurped at her and Melanie’s inner walls pulsed in time. He sucked
her, her body went rigid and a scream built in her chest. As his teeth nipped her labia all the way to her clit, it climbed up to her throat. When he stopped at the swollen, throbbing nub at the top of her thighs, Melanie wasn’t breathing as she waited to feel the rasp, the nip or suck there, but it didn’t come. With only a teasing brush over the swollen bud he moved on to nip his way back down the other side of her folds.
Melanie’s fist clenched the sheets, she growled her frustration and his laugh tickled her folds. He stopped to nuzzle his face against her inner thigh and it felt like sandpaper. Waves of fire traveled up her leg to enflame her already hypersensitive folds. When he suctioned his mouth there, and dragged it along her thigh, Melanie lost her mind.
One whimper followed another, soft pleas for him to finish it followed and he finally did by slurping at her clit. The sounds, the heat, his moans and the sensations all collided in a blinding flash of light behind her closed lids. The scream escaped and carried his name as she was steamrolled by another orgasm ten times as strong as the last. He held her as she shook, soothed her with gentle strokes across her belly.
When he eased her back on the bed, Melanie lay there heaving breaths as she tried to find her mind. She felt wrecked and raw inside, drunk on endorphins. Emotion shot up to her throat to close it off, so when he asked her if she was okay all she could do was nod. He lifted her hips and Melanie’s body was like a limp noodle as he settled his cock at her opening. His fingers dug into her ass as he pushed his hips toward her and embedded an inch of himself inside of her body.
Unbelievably her nipples hardened, the buzzing in her body grew louder and her inner muscles pulsed hard around him. Melanie planted her heels, arched her back, pushed against him and the burning stretch as her body took him further inside sent incredible sensations zinging up her passage. Brock’s fingers dug deeper and he groaned, but suddenly his whole body went rigid.
“Holy fuck, I am a moron,” he wheezed, pulling out so fast Melanie’s head spun.