Chapter 3
Melanie
I moaned softly as Ryan’s lips trailed down over my jaw, stopping to gently suck on the pulse point on the side of my neck before nibbling his way down to my collarbone.
“You smell so good,” he murmured, burying his face in the crook of my neck for a moment before resuming his journey south. He stopped at my breasts, focusing his efforts on my nipples, which were erect and begging for attention.
Placing his mouth over one, he sucked on it, hard, then laved it with his tongue. He continued alternating between breasts, sucking and licking, then gently tugging with his teeth, creating just enough pressure along with a tiny sting of pain that I gasped and clutched his head to my chest.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, causing him to chuckle. The sound was low and rumbled against my skin, causing a flood of desire to rush through me. I widened my legs and writhed against him, desperately seeking even just the slightest bit of friction against my core.
“Oh, sweets, your greedy little pussy will just have to wait her turn.”
He latched on to one nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth as his index finger circled the other. Without warning, he grasped it between his thumb and that circling finger and pinched, then lightly twisted and tugged. I arched my back as I cried out for more, and he happily obliged.
Moments later, my orgasm slammed into me. I moaned his name, and he released my nipple so he could surge upward to capture my lips with his. His tongue plunged inside, tangling with mine as he deepened the kiss.
He tore his mouth free, then lifted his body and held it over mine in a perfect plank position as he stared down at me. His blue eyes flashed with heat, and he shifted and moved down on the bed, maneuvering himself until his shoulders were nudging my thighs further apart.
He dipped his head and flattened his tongue, swiping it along my lower lips and swirling it around the stiff clit peeking out. He licked me again, this time lingering as he ran the tip of his tongue along my seam, then plunged it inside.
Ryan groaned, sounding ravenous. “So sweet. So fucking delicious”
He draped my legs over his shoulders and buried his face in my pussy, barely coming up for air as he licked, and sucked and fucked me with his tongue. I rocked my hips, and he raised one arm up, banding it across me to hold me firmly in place as he feasted on me.
It didn’t take long for the overpowering sensation to build again.
He slid one long finger inside me and found that sensitive little spot that always made me feel as if I’d been lit up from the inside out.
He added a second finger and crooked it slightly as he fastened his lips around my clit and sucked hard.
That was all I needed, and I came for a second time, every muscle in my body clenched so tightly that I couldn’t even make a sound aside from a desperate gasp of air as I flew over the edge and into the abyss.
Ryan shifted then to sit back on his haunches, his hand tightly squeezing the base of his long, hard dick in an attempt to stave off his own orgasm.
He bit his lip before he threw back his head and groaned, then pinned me with a desperate look.
“I need you, sweetness.”
He covered my body with his, bracing himself on one hand as he grasped my hip with the other. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt his hard length pressing against me for a moment before he drew back his hips and plunged…
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Beep! Beep! Beep!
I awoke with a jolt when an alarm blared on my phone. I lunged for it, almost knocking if off the nightstand before I managed to grab hold of it and stabbed at the screen to make the god-awful sound stop.
I peered blearily at the phone through gritty, sleep-filled eyes, trying to see the numbers displayed on the screen. When my pupils finally focused enough that I could make out the time, I saw that it was only six o’clock in the damned morning.
Realizing that I’d inadvertently set my normal weekday alarm to go off on a Saturday, I tossed the phone back on the nightstand in disgust, then flopped back down.
I rolled over, flipping my pillow to the cool side, then pulled the covers around me so I was snuggled in a little cocoon.
I sighed as I closed my eyes, only to snap them open moments later as disjointed images and tiny fragments of my dream flashed through my mind.
“What the hell?”
My voice was sleep-roughened as I voiced my thoughts. I never had dreams like that, and certainly not when I was hurt enough and angry enough that I wasn’t sure I’d ever let Ryan touch me again.
“Well, at least dream Melanie got a couple of orgasms out of it, since real-life Melanie has almost forgotten what those feel like.”
When I realized what I was doing, I heaved an aggravated sigh.
“And now I’m not only talking to myself, but I’m also doing it in the freaking third person.”
I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep again, but my mind started to spin with all the thoughts and fears which had kept me awake until the wee hours of the morning already.
I opened my eyes again and stared across the wide expanse of our king-sized bed, taking in Ryan’s side – untouched, the pillow and covers still smooth and undisturbed from when I’d made it yesterday morning.
The bed suddenly felt like a symbol of the state of our marriage. Empty, except for me, without any sign that Ryan had been there at all.
The bedding blurred as tears welled in my eyes. The anger that had been swirling inside gave way to a wave of sadness and pain so intense that it nearly took my breath as I sobbed into my pillow.
I cried for myself, and our boys. I cried for Ryan – the Ryan he used to be, anyway. I cried until there were no more tears, leaving behind only a deep-rooted sense of loss and loneliness, and a fear that my marriage might not ever be the same as it used to be, if it could even be salvaged at all.
I eventually dragged myself out of bed and spent a long time standing under a hot shower, hoping it would erase the signs of my breakdown and energize me enough to face the day. My eyes were still slightly puffy afterward, but ten minutes with my gel eye-mask took care of that.
A cup of coffee, with an extra splash of creamer and a bit more sugar than usual helped my energy level a little. It helped my mood a little bit, too.
I was debating whether or not to eat something for breakfast when a text came through. My heartbeat sped up a little as I snatched the phone up, hoping to see Ryan’s name. I was disappointed but not surprised when it wasn’t him.
Mom: Happy birthday, honey. I wish Dad and I were in town to celebrate with you. I’ll make your favorite cake when we get home next month. Carol and I are off to our beachside yoga class and we’re making your dad go with us, so I’ll call you later. Love you bunches!
I put the phone down and leaned back in the chair, chuckling a little as I thought about my mom and her sister, both in their seventies, who had taken up numerous hobbies and classes and typically forced my dad to tag along to most of them.
Aunt Carol had moved to Florida over twenty years ago to be closer to her grandkids, and Mom and Dad had been spending winters with her since they had both retired almost a decade ago.
I could only imagine how thrilled – not – Dad was with beachside yoga.
He still complained about the pottery class they’d taken last year, claiming that Mom kept wanting to recreate the infamous pottery scent from the movie Ghost, and that he was “too damned old for that nonsense”.
I typed back a quick reply, and finished my coffee, deciding I wasn’t hungry for anything more. I went about my usual Saturday morning cleaning and laundry routine, fielding the occasional text from old friends and distant relatives who wanted to wish me a happy birthday.
The doorbell rang shortly after eleven, and I opened it to find an older man holding a vase filled with a gorgeous array of flowers.
After confirming my name, he handed them to me with a cheerful smile, refused a tip – “It’s already been taken care of, dear,” and wished me a good day before making his way back down the driveway to his delivery van parked at the curb.
I was thankful that we’d only gotten a light dusting of snow overnight which the sun had already melted from the concrete, so I didn’t have to worry about him slipping and hurting himself.
I set the vase down on the entry table, then fumbled to open the card nestled in among the colorful blooms.
Happy birthday to the best mom in the world!
We love you,
Garrett and Tanner
Smiling in delight, I bent to sniff the fragrant flowers.
I carried the vase into the living room and set it down in the middle of the coffee table, then stood back to admire it.
My smile faltered at the realization that our boys – still a little immature and thoughtless as eighteen year-olds can be, and busy with their college fraternity’s winter fundraiser this weekend – had remembered my birthday and taken the time to send flowers, while Ryan hadn’t even bothered to send me so much as a generic “happy birthday” text.
I comforted myself with the thought that given the time difference between Indy and Vegas, it was only a little past eight there.
Ryan and Mitch were probably still asleep, and when Ryan did wake, he would likely realize what day it was and call me in a panic, full of apologies and promises to make it up to me.
“Promises he won’t keep, if recent experience is any indication,” I muttered under my breath, adjusting a few of the flowers and propping the card against the vase.
I was staring at the flowers, lost in a barrage of negative thoughts, when my cell phone rang. I dashed into the kitchen, snatching the phone up from where I’d set it on the island earlier.