by K. L. Savage
Da-dum, da-um, da-dum.
She tilts her head to the side, exposing the curve of her slender neck. Her milky skin beacons me, and I lean down and press my lips on her jugular, where her blood flows from her heart.
“Then what,” she pauses to lick her lips. “Then what do you want?”
“I’m afraid I want you.” I drag my lips up to her jaw. Even her skin smells sweet. “I’m not ready to want you. Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Don’t make me answer that, sunflower. Please, don’t make me answer that; not yet.”
“You can trust me,” she says. “You can trust me more than anyone here. Put your faith in me, please. Let me help you. Just let me in.” I close my eyes as her hands roam all over my torso, grasping onto me like a lifeline. “Let me in.”
I want to.
“The only way to let you in is if I let them go.” My eyes close, and my head tilts back when she kisses along the bandages that covers the wounds from my insubordination.
“I’m not asking you to let anyone go. Just make enough room for me.” Her hand lays over my heart, and I can’t take this anymore. I either kick her out of this room and leave this club, officially going rogue to hunt down the killer of my past.
Or…
I trust someone for once.
I believe in someone for once.
Her fingers trail down my skin as I pull away and walk to the door, my hand on the doorknob to let her go, yet my fingers flick the lock to the other side so no one can come in. The air in the room changes, charging with intensity that has been growing between us for months.
Make room for me.
Her voice echoes in my head, telling me what I need to do.
What she doesn’t know is she has already invaded every ounce that’s left inside me, and that’s what I’ve been fighting.
12
MELISSA
Oh my god.
Breathe.
Calm down.
You’re just locked inside Poodle’s room—I mean—James’ room. He’s half naked. His body is beautiful. He’s looking at me like a damn snack, and for some reason all I can do is think of prime numbers to focus on.
My brain isn’t working.
Not when he is all eight-pack abs and licking his lips as he saunters over to me.
My eyes trail over the dips of his hips and the veins traveling down his arms marking his strength. I want him to hold me with those arms, letting me lean against his strength as he slides in and out of me. I can’t believe I want that. I never wanted to think of sex again after being taking advantage of by man after man, but for some reason, when I look at Poodle, it’s all I can think about. I want him. For the first time in my life, I want a man.
His hand falls on my hip, and the thin material of the shorts Sarah let me borrow are no match for the scorching heat of his fingers. His thumb brushes against the bare flesh that shows between the black waistband of the shorts and the hem of the crop top. My stomach clenches when he slides over a spot at the base of my ribs that sends me into a whimpering mess.
He growls, “You shouldn’t be wearing stuff like this. When I first saw you on Tongue’s lap, I wanted to kill him. You’re showing your body, and I’m the only one who should be allowed to see it.” His other hand circles around my waist, and he tugs me closer until my pelvis rubs against the very big ridge outlining his jeans. I gasp and meet his green eyes glittering in mischief, and a confident smirk takes over the left side of his face. I want to look down to see just how big he is, but I’m too nervous. I haven’t ever seen a cock before. Sure, dozens and dozens of men have had me, but I never once looked at them.
James rubs his hands along the dips of my waist, and then his palms curves around my breasts, and I moan, tilting my head back and whimpering when his fingers tweak my hard nipples, tenting the tank top.
“I’ve dreamed of these tits,” he says with admiration. “They are so fucking perfect.”
“They’re too big.”
He pinches and twists my right elongated peak and I cry out, scratching my nails down his arms. “Don’t ever talk about them like that again. They are everything.”
“James,” I moan his name as he licks up my neck, and a shaken breath escapes his lips. The scratch of his beard against my skin causes me to arch my back, and his cock rubs between my leg. “Kiss me,” I plead, begging him to finally press his lips against mine.
“Melissa—”
“Kiss me.” I place my hand on the back of his nape and lean my forehead against the dip of his nose. If I don’t feel his lips against mine right now, I’m going to scream. We have danced this dance one last time, and I refuse to walk out of this room without knowing what his lips feel like.
“I can’t have sex with you,” he blurts. “Not right now—”
I lay my finger against his lip to hush him. “I’m not asking you to. I’m only asking for a kiss.”
His eyes fall over my face as his wide palms cup my jaw. Oh, I like that. I’ve never had a man hold my face like this, and I love it. His breath is cool against my lips, and his nose rubs against mine.
“I haven’t kissed anyone in a really long time. I might not be great at it.” I’m not sure why he tells me that, and I’m not sure if I believe him or not. A man like him doesn’t just not kiss women.
“I find that hard to believe,” I reply, barely able to breathe as he gets closer and closer.
“Which part?” The words tickle my lips, and I clutch his neck tighter.
“All of it,” I say in earnest. I’m sorry, but with emerald eyes like he has, there is no way; especially with the cut-sluts around here throwing themselves at everyone.
He doesn’t say anything, just grunts in response. His palms are slightly sweaty against my jaw, and his heart is beating at a dangerous speed. I can’t help but wonder if he is nervous or if he was telling the truth about kissing someone.
On my next inhale, his lips press against mine, and I forget how to breathe. Time stops around us, and everything fades to black. All that exists is me and him.
Now I know he’s lying to me because there have never been a pair of lips to ever feel so good. They are softer than what I thought they would be. Gentle, yet have just enough pressure that tells me he is in charge.
He moans against my mouth, and his knuckles fist against my sides before he tosses me on the bed. I barely have time to focus when he crawls over me and slams his mouth on mine again.
God, he feels so good. He feels better than any dream or fantasy I ever imagined him in.
Poodle deepens the kiss, and his tongue slides over mine with precision and expertise. I meet his tongue thrust for thrust, and he turns my head with a yank of my hair, controlling the kiss as he tilts his head to the other side.
He settles between my legs and grinds against me; the tip of his hard ridge works my clit just right until I’m moaning down his throat. He swallows my sounds as if they’re his fuel. He moves faster—grunting, groaning, kissing me like his life depends on it, and I can’t get enough.
Poodle squeezes my tits and moves against me as if he’s fucking me. I have never done this, but my entire body is on fire, and I’m begging for release. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had orgasms before, something I’ve struggled to except because I never wanted them. They were forced on me. I fought every moment of my body betraying me.
Not this time.
“I need you.” He breaks the kiss and rips my shirt over my head. His lips are swollen, his cheeks are red, and he has a lost look in his eyes, like he isn’t with me, but maybe he just wants me that much. He tears my bra off my body, and then he stops all movement.
His eyes roam over my body, studying me, and I start to feel self-conscious. “James?” I say his name like he asked me to, and he blinks, shaking his head from to clear it of whatever pulled him from the moment. I lift my arms over my chest to hide myself, and he grabs my wrists and pin them above my head.
He nips my bottom lip an
d sucks it into his mouth, nibbling on the flesh until I whine when his teeth sink in a little too much. It’s painful, but I like it. I want more of the pain. It makes me feel … liberated.
Poodle drags his teeth along my throat, and when he gets to my breast he sinks them in, deep, sucking on the flesh until blood rises to the surface. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and abuses the red peak. He tries to shove all of my tit into his mouth, but the mound is too big no matter how hard he tries.
His hand dives between us, and he yanks my shorts down and unbuttons his pants. The sound of his zipper slides, and I grip his wrist to stop him. Just like he says he isn’t ready, I’m not either.
Poodle hovers over my mouth and the girth of his cock, hot and throbbing, presses against my clit. “Trust me,” he says.
“Oh god!” I cry out, a little too loud, and he steals my lips again to keep me quiet, but I can’t be. I wiggle beneath him, moving uncontrollably with every stroke his cock makes between my folds. “James.” I can’t even focus on kissing him when my mind is mush with pleasure. “James.”
“Fuck, you’re so damn wet, Melissa. You have no idea how badly I want to slide inside you. You feel so good. Oh-my-fucking-god,” he groans, throwing his head back.
I look down between our bodies and see the wide flare of his tip sliding over the bundle of nerves that he’s owning for himself. Watching his cock touching me, making me wetter and wetter, has my legs trembling and my toes curling when the threat of my orgasm looms.
An orgasm I want.
An orgasm I need.
I’ve never came from actual pleasure before, mutual pleasure, and I want it to crash over me until I’m boneless and can’t remember anything except my name.
“That’s it. Come for me, my beautiful fucking sunflower. Come for me,” he pleads. I’m not sure where the nickname comes from ,but it makes me feel special, important, and my belly twists and burns, and my body turns weightless as the need grows.
I want to fall over the edge, but I can’t.
Something is stopping me.
I need him inside me; maybe that’s it. Maybe I need to hear him call me something derogatory or fucked up in order to get off. Maybe I’ll ever be able to orgasm normally again. My mind starts to get away from me, and the urge to come flees.
“You’re going to fucking come for me because I need this. I need you to come. It’s been too long, and I need to hear you. Give it to me,” he growls, wrapping his hand around my throat, threatening to choke me. “I said give it to me.”
“More,” I croak. “Harder,” I lift up and against his thick shaft, seeking more pressure.
His eyes widen with surprise, like he can’t believe what I’m asking or what he is doing.
“James, I need it,” I tell him, rutting against his shaft as he thrusts between my pussy lips. My body is buzzing again, and he lowers himself against my body, tightens an arm around me, and squeezes my neck. Blood rushes to my face, and my eyes burn from the threat of my oxygen being cut off. “Yes,” I moan as my orgasm builds higher and higher, and he slams his mouth on mine just as I let out a piercing cry when my orgasm turns my body inside out.
He groans when hot gushes of my cum hit his cock. “Fuck!” he curses and lifts off me, his abs stretching as he sits over my lap to stare at his big shaft. It flexes and then a jet of his hot seed coats my pussy, painting my clit. He rubs the crown through his come, fascinated as he rubs himself into my skin. “Holly,” his voice breaks at the last minute, right as another drop of his cum falls against my clit.
“Who did you just call me?” I sneer through gasping breaths and kick him in the chest to get him away from me. “What the hell did you just call me!” I yell, tears stinging my eyes. His come drips between my thighs, and the reminder leaves me feeling like a whore. Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be. “I can’t believe you.” I run to the bathroom and slam the door, taking a stream of toilet paper to clean myself. Tears fall off my cheeks, and I berate myself for believing Poodle. I hold my hand over my mouth and catch a sob. I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I fell for his scheme. He used me.
Just like all the other men used me.
“Melissa, please open the door.” Poodle knocks on the door and jiggles the handle. “It isn’t what you think. Let me explain.”
“Leave me the hell alone. I never want to talk to you again!” I slam my fists against the door, wishing it was his face. “I hate you! I hate you,” I sob, flopping against the door, and I slide down until my bare ass hits the cold floor. I pull up my shorts from around my ankles and cry into my hands.
“Please, let me explain. I wasn’t calling you by her name. I swear. I’d never do that to you.”
I don’t believe him. I didn’t think there was anything worse feeling like a whore, but I’ve never been with a man I’ve been crazy about either. I finally get to have him, only for him to call me by a different name after he comes all over me? It’s worse.
Not only do I get the cheap feeling of being used and filthy, but my heart breaks making everything I feel worse.
James, Poodle, whatever the hell he wants to call himself, can go straight to hell.
13
POODLE
This isn’t good.
I’ve fucked up so many times in my life that I’ve lost count, but none of them compare to this moment. I wasn’t calling Melissa, Holly. After I came, something I haven’t done with anyone since Holly, my brain blitzed, and Holly’s name fell off my lips quietly. I was letting a piece of her go, but that doesn’t make it right.
It was piss poor timing for me to do that. I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking, and now I have to reap the consequences.
Guilt eats at me when I hear her cry behind the door, and I lean my head against the wood, devastated that it’s because of me she’s experiencing so much pain. “Melissa, I swear it isn’t what you think. Please, will you let me explain?”
“You made me feel disgusting!” she exclaims through venomous words that pierce my skin like needles. “I haven’t felt that way in months, and you were the last person I thought would make me feel like a whore again.”
“Melissa, you’re not a whore. You’ve never been a whore. I apologize for making you feel that way. Please, just open the door and let me explain. I’ll tell you everything, and then you can choose to leave, and I won’t stop you. You’re the only woman since Holly, Melissa. I wasn’t calling you by her name. Part of me felt guilty, like I had forgotten her or something.” Shit, those are not the right words either.
“Then why you are sliding your cock against me? Go to her then! Fuck off, Poodle. Just leave me alone.”
“No,” I say, laying my hand against the door. “I’m not going to leave you alone. I’ve done that already, for far too long. Now I’ve had a taste of you, and I can’t let that go. I can’t let you go.”
“You’re going to have to. I don’t believe a word you say,” she sniffles, and I really want to rewind time and stop myself from being so careless. It doesn’t matter what the situation is, a man doesn’t ever say his ex’s name, especially right after he comes. I’m going to have to make it up to her forever.
“It’s something no one else knows. No one in this clubhouse knows. At least, not yet. Reaper will find out soon enough.”
“You’re a liar,” she hisses, slamming her fist against the door, but the small thud isn’t enough to scare a mouse away. It’s cute, but I’m not going to test her patience or the level of her anger right now. “Go back to Holly. I bet it hasn’t even been that long since you’ve been with someone. You kiss too good and—”
“You think I’m a good kisser?” A flare of hope rises in my chest, and I rub my fingers against my lips. They’re still swollen from when we devoured each other.
“I can’t believe that’s what you’re asking me right now. Yes! You’re a good kisser, and I’m sure a shit ton of other women think that too. Just go away, Poodle. Please.” The last word falls off her lips, begg
ing and half broken with emotion. I hurt her deeply. I have no idea how to go about fixing this.
I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “I’m being honest. I haven’t been with a woman in a long time. Holly is—”
“Your wife? God, you’re unreal. Go to her and leave me the hell alone. I never want to see you again.”
She has no idea how deep those words cut. I know what it’s like when someone is taken from your life, what it’s like to miss part of your soul. “I’m not leaving!” I roar. “She isn’t my wife! I haven’t been with anyone in thirteen years, Melissa. Holly is dead. She died. She’s gone. Okay? Are you happy? She’s gone.”
Melissa is quiet save for a few sniffles. I’m not sure how much time has gone by, but she still hasn’t opened the door, but she hasn’t yelled at me either. I’m going to take that as a win.
“I can’t lie to you. I’ll always love Holly. She was … she was my everything since I was thirteen. And when she was murdered… I changed.” Yeah, I changed into a killer. “I closed in on myself, and I swore I’d never feel anything for anyone again, not until I found out who killed her.” And who took my daughter, but I’m not sure how to bring that up in conversation. “I need to tell you this while I’m looking at your face. Please, come out, sunflower. You brighten my day every time I get to look at your face,” I confess, hoping the sliver of what I feel for her every day is enough for her to open the door.
The knob jiggles, and I hear her take a deep breath on the other side. I stumble onto the bed, and cold air wraps around my cock and I look down to see I’m still hanging out. “Shit,” I whisper and tuck myself in, right as she swings the door open. I rub my palms against my jeans and stare at her as she leans against the trim. Melissa has her hands laced together in front of her thighs as she points her foot to the ground and rubs her big toe in one spot as if she’s shy.