Wreck the Halls

I’m so wet.

Which he apparently loved, because he seemed to want that offering all over his chin, his mouth. He buried his face against her and turned it side to side, collecting her, pushing his tongue upward once again into the separation of her sex. Fucking her with his tongue, pressing it into her body while the V of his fingers spread her, giving him more access. And once he got it, those fingers took turns with his tongue, pumping inside of her, which was when it all came crashing down. She’d been so distracted by the overtly carnal side of Beat, so determined to memorize it, that she didn’t acknowledge the gathering of her own release until it was on the verge of liberating her. It blew through her now with a vengeance, her right leg shooting up to wrap around the back of his head, her hips tilting, babble bubbling from her lips while those intimate muscles flexed and throbbed and set her free of tension.

Some of it.

Even with the exhilarating rush of her climax still cutting through her middle, holding her shaking legs captive, she felt her own hunger crest again, because Beat swiped a forearm across his shining mouth and then looked right at her while licking it off again. And her head swam, her nipples beading, the lowest part of her belly growing heavy with desire once more. With responsibility and anticipation and something more magical . . .

An electrical connection to this man that moved their bodies in unrehearsed choreography. Beat lunged to his feet, as if he sensed that she needed kissing, grounding, and he gave it to her, urging her lips open with his tongue and sharing the taste of her in a way that was unabashed, almost prideful. But she didn’t require any reminder of the pleasure he’d just given her, because she could think of nothing else. Her right hand moved without a command from her brain, sliding beneath the waistband of his briefs, wanting, needing, to reciprocate.

“Ahhh, that’s good, Peach. Grip it as hard as you can.” His breath pelted her mouth, his thickly muscled chest lifting and falling. “I like when it hurts.”

Melody followed her instinct, stroking him lightly, slowly, once, twice, three times, watching his teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut, holding his breath. Then she tightened her hold and listened to his guttural grunt, looking down and watching him try to thrust into her hand, hips pumping upward. And she used that hard clutch of his shaft to turn their bodies and firmly press him up against the wall, watching in awe as his Adam’s apple got stuck beneath his chin. His hands lifted, fisted his own hair, like he couldn’t withstand the torture of being stroked by her. Combined with the immortality she’d earned downstairs, she’d never felt more formidable in her life. It inebriated her.

“I want you inside me.” She elevated onto her toes and kissed his panting mouth, riding her palm up and down his inches at the same meandering pace, over and over until she felt a touch of sticky moisture on her knuckles, a gruff rendition of her name punctuating the air. “Make it happen.”

*

Melody’s command was still on her lips when Beat’s back slid down the wall.

Never breaking eye contact with her—he wasn’t even sure it was physically possible—he drew the elastic of his briefs down, leaving it beneath his balls. He offered her his lap, because she’d requested it. Even though being inside of Melody terrified him as much as it felt like an inevitability he couldn’t live without. Couldn’t fucking breathe without.

Jesus Christ.

It was dark in the room, except for the starlight casting her naked body in an ethereal glow, her pussy damp from his tongue, her gaze determined, but glazed. She was an angel drunk on the effect she had on him. An effect that was almost too pure and poignant to withstand as she got down on her knees in front of him—so beautiful that he held his breath—and climbed onto his lap, their foreheads meeting, eyes locking.

“Tell me when you’re close and I’ll stop,” she whispered.

Gratitude swam in his chest. Lower, there was nothing but the thick bite of lust. “Tell me when you’re close and I’ll go harder.”

She moaned right into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, sipping kisses from her lips while reaching down, bringing his cock between her thighs. He rubbed it up and back through the ample moisture, swelling more, more, until he worried he could come from that preliminary torture alone.

“You ready for it?”

“Yes.”

“Lift up. Good girl. Now come back down—” His breath hissed out as she accepted the tip of him, her hips shifting side to side until she took more. “Oh shit. Oh God.”

“Beat.”

His balls drew up painfully. “Don’t whine like that. I’m going to come.”

“Beat.”

“Don’t move. Please, please, baby, stay still while I wrap my head around you. Jesus.” Fully inside of her now and reeling over her snug, wet warmth, he gathered her close, burying his face into her neck, seeing nothing in the room, oblivious to anything but his sense of touch. Feel. Melody. “Were you made for me? Is that what this is?”

Her hips undulated slowly. “You feel perfect for me, too.”

He moaned, sparks blinking in front of his eyes. “Baby, don’t start yet.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Fuck.”

His hands raked down her back, caught her ass in his hands and ordered his body to remain just like this. Hard. Primed for her, ready for her use, but refusing to accept his own relief. He loved this, loved being the key to pleasure. Loved her getting the prize, while he was denied. Denial was the only thing that could fulfill him sexually, as far back as he could remember, but there would be no comparison to this. Sacrificing his own release for Melody. He’d only been inside of her a matter of seconds and the sex was fucking unparalleled, because he could feel it in his being. His heart, his bones, his blood. Christ, everywhere.

Was Melody the ultimate high he’d been chasing without realizing it?

His body told him yes, as she started to move. Or was he moving her? It was impossible to know who started the motion, whether it was the rock of her hips or the urgency of his hands on her ass cheeks. But once they were moving, the pace was immediately frantic. Her teeth sank into the side of his neck, deep enough to draw blood, and need became a welcome plague in his gut, the sound of her damp pussy accepting him again, again, again making him too horny to sit still, so he slid backward to plant his elbows on the ground, giving himself the leverage required to fuck her from below.

“Tell me how it feels,” he growled.

“It’s too good,” she cried out into his neck. “It’s too perfect. I can’t stand it.”