Wreck the Halls

Melody had other ideas.

They were breaking for oxygen when she sat up on the edge of the couch, stripping her turtleneck off—without warning, but much to his delight—followed by her bra. And suddenly, Melody was left in nothing but a short skirt and stockings. That was enough to stop the breath in his lungs, because Jesus, there wasn’t a more beautiful sight on the planet. But when she reached for the button of his pants while scooting down the couch to kneel between the V of his thighs, Beat learned what it was really like to forget to breathe.

“What are you doing?”

“Is this bad?”

“God no, it’s not bad. You just don’t have to.”

She unzipped his pants, leaned forward, and nuzzled his cock with her nose, her mouth, and his heels pressed violently into the couch cushions. “Don’t. Please don’t. I’m going to come as soon as you breathe on it.”

Carefully, she tugged down the waistband of his briefs, her lips parting on a rattling inhale when he sprung free, the aching length of him straining against his belly. “You’re beautiful. Everywhere,” she whispered, licking his stomach. Long, unabashed laps. Then that tongue dragged up the side of his swollen sex, running circles around the tip. “You can still enjoy this.”

“Of course I’m enjoying it,” he gritted out. “I’m enjoying it too much.”

“No, I mean . . . the waiting. The edging.” She kissed the head of his cock. “You’re still allowed to enjoy it, even if this ends with you still inside of me.”

Blood rushed north, creating a whooshing sound in his ears, before journeying back south with a vengeance and stiffening him to the point of pain. Melody was kneeling between his thighs, sucking him into her mouth, her fist circling him in a way that wasn’t necessarily firm enough to get him off. Just enough to keep him balanced on the edge. Her lips remained loose, her tongue teasing him with light strokes, but every so often she clamped her lips tight and sucked hard enough to make his hips jerk on the couch, his very life flashing in front of his eyes.

When he reached the point of no return, she seemed to know it, halting her torture and reverting back to light touches of her tongue, slow, lazy strokes, until he was panting.

“Mel,” he growled between his teeth. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Uh-uh.” She kissed his crown again, her lips plumping against his hardness, then lapped at the bead of moisture that formed. “Not yet.”

His body was on fire in the best way, sweat slicking his skin, the anticipation of pleasure racking his muscles. Was Melody right? Could he still enjoy being denied . . . in a healthy way? It had never felt like this before. Healthy. Solely in the name of pleasure, because of the person he was sharing it with. There was no heaviness in his chest or guilt or shame. Only decadence.

Only love and connection and Melody. Always Melody.

“Come on, baby, give me one of those hard sucks.”

She dragged the tip of her tongue up the side of his distended shaft, slow enough that he was groaning by the time she reached the top. “How bad do you want it?”

Christ, he was literally shaking, one hand gripped the back of the couch, the other one clamped onto the edge. “Really fucking bad.”

“I’m going to give it to you . . .” she whispered, her lips poised at his tip. “Because you’re incredible. And I love the taste of you.”

The fact that he didn’t explode from the sheer pressure in his chest was an inhuman feat. He barely made it through the next part. The part where she gave him what he asked for, but not for the reason he’d always needed it. No. She turned his guilt inside out, turned his kink into something exciting instead of a punishment and all the while, she praised him with her eyes, the intense suction of her perfect fucking mouth and he knew. He knew life would be better from now on. Because she existed and knew him better than he knew himself and he’d somehow taken a right turn and ended up in heaven with an angel.

“I’m so fucking close,” he hissed, his stomach flexed so tightly to stop himself from ejaculating that he’d be sore for a week. Worth it. Worth every second. “I’m a wreck without your mouth on mine, baby. Come kiss me. Come fuck me.”

His entire world was narrowed down to his soulmate straddling his hips, still in that dick tease skirt and stockings, her tits pouting at him in the lamplight. Their hands collided while reaching between her thighs and they ripped her panties off in a joint effort, Beat dragging his cock to her entrance and groaning deep in his throat. Melody correctly interpreted that as his wordless plea to lower down, and she did, her knees trembling against his rib cage, her eyes losing focus with every new inch she took inside of her.

“Oh my God.” He flexed his ass and lifted, grinding up into her, transfixed by her teeth sinking into her lip, the palms that slid through the sweat on his chest to clutch his shoulders, her hips beginning to punch and roll. Punch and roll. The sight of her enjoying herself on his cock, no reservation, no pretense, was so erotic and awe inspiring, Beat felt almost greedy gripping her ass cheeks and riding her harder. But he was too lost, his body moving of its own volition in a perfectly synced dance with Melody’s, as if they’d been born to fuck each other. “Mouth, Mel. I don’t think you understand, I’ll fucking die without it.”

She muffled that last word with her lips and color went off like a firework in his head, his lungs replenished with oxygen, heart booming out of control. His right hand left her backside to bury in her hair and if he died in that moment, he would have died happy, because Melody’s tongue was in his mouth and she was . . . Christ . . . she was edging him again. She’d slid her knees back and was now rubbing her clit on him slowly, but no longer plunging him in and out of her body. Just leaving him fully buried, her walls throbbing around him, her mouth devastating him with every stroke of her tongue. But no movement. She left him on the verge of an orgasm without enough friction to get there.

“Good girl,” he said, not recognizing his own voice, his chest heaving between them. “Get your own. Take your own. Use me to come. Please. That’s all I want in my fucking life is to be the man who gets you off, Peach.” He pulled her forehead down to his. “Tell me I fill it up tight. Tell me it’s yours.”

“It’s mine,” she gasped, her trembles turning more severe.

He couldn’t help it. He started upthrusting, his flesh smacking in quick succession off hers. Making rough love to her from below. “Tell me you are mine.”

“I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

“I’m yours, too, Mel. All of me. Take it.”

“D-don’t stop. Keep doing that.”

“Don’t stop what?” He pressed their cheeks together, so he could speak against her ear. “Plowing your little wet cunt? Couldn’t if I tried.”

She made a strangled sound, her intimate muscles constricting around him.