We’ve barely step foot in the office when I can’t contain myself anymore.
I take her hand in my mine and guide her toward me, alert for any sign that she doesn’t want this. But I can feel her body crashing down on the same shores of lust where I’m shipwrecked.
She sighs breathily as I push her up against the wall, sliding one hand down her side and the other to her back, all the better to push her close to me.
“Fuck, you’re too hot,” I snarl. “I came here with the intention of being a gentleman, Melody, of asking you if I’d done anything wrong. But right now all I can think about is how perfect you’d look creaming all over my hand. Do you want that?”
I smooth my hand from her hip to the outside of her denim, palming her crotch, filling with savage intent when she twitches and writhes against me.
“Do you want to cream for me, Melody?”
“Y-yes,” she stutters, burying her face in my chest as her hips gyrate and grind. “I do. I do. So badly.”
The way she writhes against me is enough to make me drunk with the closeness of her. I can feel her wetness through the denim, the close and clammy heat.
I grind my palm against her quicker, moving my whole arm now, pumping it as her moans rise into the air and she opens her mouth to cry into my chest.
Her stifled cries are somehow still loud, the power of her desire and scream punctuating each moment with an intoxicating … fuck, yes … an intoxicating melody.
“I need to feel your jeans fill with your squirting cream,” I growl in her ear, pinning her against the wall with the force of my hand. “I need to feel you empty everything you have to give me. Are you going to come for me, Melody? Come for me, Melody.”
“Ah, ah …”
She whimpers and then her whole body goes slack, except for her thighs which vibrate as though there’s something about to explode in them. I feel her crotch getting clammier and I can smell her sugary tanginess in the air, her womb sending sweetened scents to tempt me into her warm depths.
I press forward, my manhood an outline against her belly.
She gasps and leans back, and then bites down when she remembers where we are.
“Freaking hell,” she exclaims. “Oh my God, Mason. We shouldn’t have done that here.”
“I can’t help myself with you,” I smirk. “And soon I’ll be doing more than grinding denim, against your perfect wet pussy, Melody, not that it wasn’t perfection to see you quiver and cream for me like that.”
She bites her lip, gnaws on it, so determinedly I wonder if it causes her pain.
“It’s not like—it’s not so simple—I’m not …”
She slides away from me, walks to the window, turning, walks to the desk. Restless energy marks her and it’s clear that she’s walking nowhere, just trying to find an outlet for—something.
I don’t know.
There’s something in the intense gorgeousness of her eyes that eludes me.
“This isn’t what you think, Mason,” she says. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Enlighten me, then,” I say passionately, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her to face me.
We stare into each other, through each other.
“Whatever you think is happening here, I’m not the right woman for it. Because I’m not some crazy experienced society girl. I’m not some CEO slayer. I’m not … I’m nothing when it comes to the bedroom.” She gestures at the room with a hollow laugh. “Or the office, I guess.”
“What is it, Melody?” I ask, softer now.
She sighs gravely and looks at me as though she’s debating whether to tell me or make a Melody-shaped hole in the wall.
“I’m a virgin, Mason,” she says.
“Oh,” I mutter.
“Yeah.” She snorts. “Oh.”
CHAPTER SIX
Melody
So this is it.
The end of this strange, incredible road I’ve found myself on.
As I turn away from Mason and pretend to correct one of the picture frames on the wall, I blink back the most absurd tears in the world. Really, Mason and I are nobodies to each other. We only met a few freaking days ago.
My past is bound to catch up with me eventually.
Maybe this will be the motivation I need to finally do the right thing and fade away like a ghost, disappearing so that the skeletons in my closet can’t spring back to life and come wreaking vengeance.
I glance at the couple in the photo, at their beaming smiles, and remind myself that even fantasizing about such a picture-perfect ending with Mason was just plain girlish madness.
Mason is looking for a quick fuck, an experienced woman to do the dirty with, and then he’ll move on, he’s too busy for girls like me.
And now that he knows I’m a virgin and won’t be able to deliver the goods, he’ll leave.
Maybe he’ll let Eternal Bond still plan Natalie’s wedding.
Or maybe he’ll find it too awkward to be around the silly virgin girl who led him on.
“Melody,” he whispers after what feels like a long time.
“Hmm?” I say, pawing at my eyes, cursing myself for a complete idiot.
After all, I’ve been through, the hardships I’ve faced – the orphanage, the streets, the hell – am I really going to crumble because a man I met a few days ago doesn’t want me anymore?
But the really warped thing is that I don’t feel as though I’ve only known him for a few days.
When I first laid eyes on Mason Mackendale, I felt as though something clicked into place, a long-awaited puzzle piece finally finding its home.
Stupid girl.
After all this time, how can you still be such a stupid girl?
“Melody, look at me.”
I turn slowly to find him standing inches away from me, a glimmer in his eyes that I almost mistake for glee, or relief, or something positive.
But of course, it’s probably sadistic intent, the same hateful glint that would spark in the eyes
