Thought drops away.
It’s just our instincts, honed down to this moment.
He smirks and I feel his face shifting in my hand, hard jawed, his eyes flitting down to my breasts.
“Play with them,” he commands, his voice changed, as though his inner animal has completely taken control now. “Pinch your nipples like you’re trying to squeeze milk out of them. Now, Melody.”
A shiver runs through me at the commanding note in his voice. It feels so perfect to do what he wants, to see the way his face twists as I lightly touch my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. All my life, I’ve seen my breasts as too ungainly, as too not-normal, but the way he looks at me tells me that he finds them as glorious as everything else about me.
I feel beautiful.
I feel wanted.
And it’s intoxicating, my pussy tightening now, the pressure building as I tug harder and harder on my nipples for my man.
“Fuck,” he snaps, leaning down and biting my neck softly, gnawing at it like a beast. “Cream. Come all over my dick. Come now, Melody. Do it. Do it.”
I gasp and throw my head back, my arms falling limply as everything in me channels to the fireworks of hunger in my pussy.
Sparks battle and war inside of me.
Pressure breaks.
Something pours like lava over my lips and my clit and inside my pussy, the deep space that his unbelievably massive cock keeps hammering into.
My eyes snap shut and I stare at the redness of my eyelids, my pleasure a wildfire scorching through me.
My pussy gets tight, tighter, so that he makes a grunting noise, and has to drive inside of me with more force.
The slapping of our union fills the air with its down-and-dirty sounds, my pussy singing for him, his cock thundering into me now as helpings of my cream wash down right to his balls.
“Fuck, you’re doing it,” he snarls, staring down at our joined sexes. “It looks so fucking tasty. Keep going. More. More.”
“Ahhhhh,” I cry, his words triggering another orgasm inside of me, hot on the heels of the last one.
I don’t know if this is normal, one coming so quickly after the last, but I’m utterly at his mercy as he pommels into me with his powerful body.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps.
“Come inside me, Mason,” I manage to breathe, my words warbled with the shuddering motion of our sex. “My womb wants you. I need your seed.”
“Ah, keep saying that,” he gasps, voice catching, turning almost hollow.
“Your seed,” I cry, slamming down against his balls.
Another.
It shatters through me and is more intense than the last two, spreading whispering hands and clamping tight to every part of me. I have to work hard to force the words out as I squirt buckets of thick white cream all over his cock.
“Y-your seed,” I whimper, my vision blurring with tears of pure pleasure. “I want your seed. My womb wants your—your—”
He throws his head back the same way I did, but he howls like a wolf as he empties his seed inside of me.
I wish I could snap a picture of this moment.
Every muscle tight, sweat sliding down his sculpted form and making him glisten.
My orgasm shimmers and squirts as he shoots more and more of his seed inside of me, both of us climaxing at the exact same moment, frozen in time.
Then time resumes and he collapses on top of me, panting, giving me a sweet mouthful of his sweaty chest muscles.
“Fuck,” he growls, rolling aside and pulling me toward him, cradling me to his chest. “That was … You’re …”
He trails off, grinning like a wild beast down at me.
“You’re everything, Melody.”
I smile and touch his face again, deciding that I’ll tell him now, right now, that my name is not really Melody Smith, that I have a past that might make him run.
But then I imagine this untouchable moment being ruined.
Ruined by the truth.
But still ruined.
And I say nothing.
CHAPTER NINE
Mason
The following afternoon, I sit in my office staring at the photograph of Clive Jameson, otherwise known as Hardhat.
The image on my computer screen shows a tall, bald man with dead eyes. His bald head is covered in razor-wire tattoos, giving him the appearance of wearing a twisted version of a crown.
My private investigator informed me he used to work in the neighboring city, a scumbag who’ll do any number of fucked-up things as long as the pay is right. Somehow, he found his way to this city and was paid – most likely by one of my competitors – to sabotage our cellphone reveal.
What he’s doing in my goddamned city isn’t clear, but I’m guessing it has something to do with Melody.
Leave Melody alone.
“Keep wishing, asshole.”
All yesterday, I tried to get myself to broach the topic of her surname, her identity, but I couldn’t because I know the hell who she is.
She’s the woman who made me feel something yesterday I never dreamed I would.
And it wasn’t just the sex.
The sex was incredible, life-changing, fucking soul-shaking.
But just as important was how close I felt to her afterward, cradling her to my chest and feeling the emotion pouring from her. I’ve spent so long stomping down on any positive emotion, focusing on the lines-of-code world of my business.
Or turning on the fake smile for the press conferences, playing the grinning CEO.
But with Melody, it’s like I can finally be myself, let go of all the other stuff and just sink into the authenticity of our relationship.
And this Hardhat motherfucker thinks he can ruin that.
It’s time I spoke to Melody about her past.
It’s time I let her know that she doesn’t have to be afraid to be completely honest with me.
Even if she’s done things, lived through things, that she’s not proud of.
I’ll always be there for her.
Forever.
Because she’s fucking mine.
She strides across the room in a flowing summery dress, made of the kind
