Chapter 15 #2
She sucked in a breath. “Do that again.” Because it had felt so, so good. Sending off aftershocks of pleasure.
He did it again. Only his dick was bigger, harder, and it felt even better.
Her legs tightened around him. “Again.”
He did. Again. Again. He withdrew, then sank into her.
She lifted her body, twisted and heaved as she fought to get closer to him.
As the need within her spiraled and grew.
A need that had flared to life and now, she felt starved, as if she’d been desperate for this—for him—for the last year.
Now her body ached and longed, and she wanted him driving into her.
Sinking into her. Pumping into her. Sending them both into oblivion.
“The bed was good,” he rasped as his lips skimmed her jaw. “But you always love it when I pin you against the wall.”
Yes, yes, she did love it. She thought it was fantastic.
Because he was so strong and he held her easily, and his hips rocked in just the right way.
Melody tightened her inner muscles around him in a hard clamp, and the orgasm was just—there.
Surging through her body. Rippling across every nerve and cell.
She couldn’t even cry out this time. Her breath was gone, and all that she could do was hold on. Take the pleasure.
He pumped into her. He kissed her neck. Licked her. And then she felt the hard, long jet of his release inside of her.
“You said…two things.”
Melody turned at Victor’s voice. She’d showered. She’d had to shower because her thighs had been sticky. She’d been wet and, ah, cleaning up had been necessary.
Victor had gotten into the shower with her. She’d tried to stop him, worried about the graze he’d gotten from the gunshot getting wet, but, in typical Victor fashion, he’d just said, “Fuck it.”
He’d washed her off, shared the soap, like it was some normal task they’d done together a million times.
Maybe it had been.
When she’d gotten out of the shower, she’d felt his eyes on her as she dressed.
There were plenty of items to choose from for dressing.
Not like before, when she’d had maybe four good outfits from her thrifting.
Oh, no, now, she had a closet full of clothes—her clothes.
Things that were a little loose, but she made them work.
Boots that had her sighing in absolute joy because she loved them so much. They were lined and soft and amazing.
But Victor’s words had just drawn her attention away from the amazing boots. Two things? What two things? “What are you talking about?” Her body ached. In good ways.
“When I had you against the wall…”
Her gaze automatically darted to said wall. Oh, but that had been incredible.
“You said, there were two things you wanted to tell me. One was that I’d dragged you off a perfectly good bed. And, you know, guilty. Did that. Spoiler, will do it again.” He’d put his clothes on again. Though the shirt was seriously missing some buttons. Her bad.
“What was the other thing, Melody?”
She smoothed her hands over the front of the designer jeans she now wore. A red sweater completed her outfit. “The other thing was that you hadn’t exaggerated. I thought you had. I was wrong.”
He leaned against one of the wooden posts on her bed. “Exaggerated?”
She could give credit where it was due. “I strongly suspect you are the best lover that I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” The faint smile that had curled his lips vanished. “I was trying not to fuck you again.”
He had been? Why?
“At least, not fuck you again here. Right now. But I was planning to strip you and fuck you all night long once we got back to my place.”
Good to know that he was a man with a plan. She wet her lips.
His gaze burned. “But you keep saying things like that, and my good intentions will not last.”
“Do you have lots of good intentions?”
His head cocked. “Honestly, where you are concerned…not really.”
Someone was very blunt. “Bad intentions, then?” Breathy.
“Very, very bad.”
She yearned. “Victor, I—”
Something pounded against her front door. Hard. Heavy thuds. Again and again. Thuds that she could hear even though they were upstairs because they were so loud. As if someone was trying to break down her front door. Her eyes widened. “What is that?” No, correction, “Who is that?”
A sigh escaped him. “Got a feeling I know.” Not looking the least bit rushed, he walked from her bedroom.
For a stunned moment, Melody didn’t move. Then, shaking from her stupor, she hurried after him. “Victor!”
He was already on the stairs.
Gripping the banister tightly, she followed.
The fierce pounding came again. Only this time, it was also followed by a shout. “Police!” Melody caught the bellow quite clearly. “Open the damn door!”
Again, no hurry from Victor even as dread curled around Melody.
He took his time once he reached the main floor.
Even stopped to glance through her peephole.
“Well, you did want this opportunity,” Victor told her as he spared a look over his shoulder at her.
“You’re about to get your chance to chat with the detective who was lead on your case. Detective Angus Clinton.”
Melody had stopped steps behind him.
His head swung forward. Victor hauled open the door.
Melody crept to his side. The better to see the cop.
A tall, broad-shouldered redhead stood on her small stoop. Curly hair. Pale skin. Sharp, golden eyes.
“Detective Angus Clinton,” Victor said. “Let me guess…you asked one of her neighbors to call you if there was ever any sign of Melody showing up here?”
The detective grunted. Then his gaze jumped to her. Narrowed. He did not look pleased to see her. Quite the opposite, in fact, and he snapped, “Melody Mage. Finally decided to return home again, did you?”
She didn’t know what to say. She was fighting to remember her home.
Another grunt. “Glad you’re back, and by the way, your ass is under arrest.” Then he hauled out handcuffs.
Her mouth dropped open. Why in the world was everyone trying to cuff her?
“Take a step toward her,” Victor dared as he immediately positioned his body in front of hers. “And I can assure you that it will be the worst mistake you ever make.”