21. That Sweet Little Whimper
Chapter twenty-one
That Sweet Little Whimper
Matt
The house is quiet, the chaos outside fading into stillness. Melina and I stand alone in her bedroom, and I pull her into my arms—needing her close, needing to know she’s safe. Her body softens against me, and I feel some of the tension bleed out as she exhales into my chest.
I flinch as her hand grazes a tender spot along my ribcage.
She pulls back instantly, concern flooding her face. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” I mutter, trying to wave it off.
Her look says she’s not buying it. “Come on… let’s check the damage.” Then, with the faintest shake of her head— “Men and their testosterone.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “You’d think I’d learn.”
She leads me to the bathroom. I had ditched the tux at HQ, thrown on gym clothes, wanting to shed the weight of the night. She carefully peels off my shirt, eyes narrowing the moment she sees the bruises blooming across my side.
“I wonder how many more times I’m going to have to patch you up like this,” she murmurs, pulling antiseptic and bandages from the cupboard.
She stands with her back to the sink, facing me, the robe she’d worn earlier now gone. In its place—a soft sleep bra and thin shorts. My gaze drags down, unrestrained, following the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the bare flesh she’s offering without even realizing it.
“What?” she asks, catching me staring, a flush rising in her cheeks.
My throat locks, heart pounding with everything I can’t say. That I’m hers—completely. Recklessly.
“Spit it out, Matt,” she says quietly as she dabs disinfectant over the fresh gash along my ribs.
I answer with a press of my lips to hers, lingering until her breath catches. I pull away, just enough to see the dazed question in her stare.
“What was that for?” she breathes.
“Just… because.”
She smiles as she returns to work, fingertips tenderly tracing my skin. Each touch ignites warmth inside me, every nerve-ending sparking like live wire.
She steps closer, dabbing gently at the cut under my eye. Her gaze holds mine, gentle and unflinching. “You have really beautiful eyes,” she whispers.
Her words coax a smile out of me before I can stop it.
“There it is,” she teases softly. “You’re always so brooding.”
“Am I?” My voice comes out gentler than I mean it to.
“Yes,” she says, her smile fading. “I still feel like you aren’t telling me something.”
I swallow hard. She’s right. I haven’t told her about the photo of us—the one seared into my mind. That truth will have to wait.
Right now, all I want is to tell this woman I love her, bury myself inside her, and burn away the fear and shadows clinging to both of us.
She smooths the tape into place, then leans in and presses a slow kiss to my shoulder. Heat sparks low in my core.
“Turn,” she murmurs.
I do so without hesitation.
“Does it hurt?” she asks, her voice soft and almost reluctant.
“I’ve had worse,” I tell her.
She lets out a quiet huff. “That supposed to make me feel better?”
“Guess not,” I admit.
She slips her arms around my waist and nuzzles her cheek into my back. ‘I think you’re done.’
I cover her hands with mine, holding her there, soaking in the warmth of her pressed against me. Her lips brush over my spine, sending a shiver through me. Then she skims over my stomach, tracing lazy circles along the edge of my waistband.
My breath stutters, sharp in the stillness. She notices. Her touch grows bolder, her hand sliding underneath, testing, teasing.
“Melina—” I rasp, my voice breaking.
She stills. Waiting. Expecting me to shut it down. But the words tear out of me, rough and desperate. “Don’t stop.”
“Are you sure?” she whispers, trembling with nerves.
“Touch me,” I plead, breathless.
She takes her time—slow, deliberate. She hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m already painfully hard, my whole body coiled tight with need. Her fingers ghost just above my pubic bone, lingering, driving me insane. Then she rakes her nails down my length in a graze that nearly buckles my knees.
“Fuck!” I hiss, collapsing forward, catching myself on the wall in front of me. She does it again, dragging a frayed groan from deep in my chest. Then her grip closes around me, firm and claiming.
“Jesus, Matty,” she breathes, quivering with desire. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.”
That’s it. The final thread of control snaps. It’s a promise of what’s to come, and I’m done waiting. Tonight, she’s mine.
She pulls her hand free, turning me to face her. My vision burns with hunger, breath ragged, as she presses me back into the wall. Her palms glide upward, tracing every ridge of muscle like she’s memorizing me.
She leans up, lips grazing the corner of my mouth before trailing higher. She licks softly just behind my ear, and my eyes fall shut as a quiet moan escapes. Then she nips my earlobe, slipping her tongue inside for a heartbeat before pulling back.
“God, Melina…” the words scrape, fingers digging into her hips. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
“I do,” she purrs, grinding hard against my erection. “Let’s see what you’re working with, soldier.”
She hooks her thumbs into my waistband and yanks down my shorts and boxers at the same time, leaving them pooled at my feet. My cock springs free—thick and aching, straining against my stomach. Her gaze falls, and a wicked smile tugs at her lips, eyes gleaming with heat.
“Well, well, well,” she murmurs, voice dripping with seduction as her eyes lock on mine. “We’re definitely going to have to do something about this.”
She grips my shaft and works me slow, each stroke deliberate, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure racing through me, winding me tighter with each pass.
“I have to say, Matty…” she whispers, low and husky. “I don’t know if you’ll fit all the way inside me.”
Her thumb brushes over the tip, smearing the drops of pre-cum glistening there.
Then, to my shock, she lifts it to her lips and sucks slowly, eyes never leaving mine.
Heat detonates in my skull. All I can think about is those lips wrapped around me—her mouth taking me deep, hollowing her cheeks, making me lose my fucking mind.
“You taste good,” she mews, my cock twitching hard in her grasp.
I can’t tear my eyes off her—the way she owns me with every sultry glance. My chest heaves, restraint hanging by a thread. She leans in, lips searing a trail of hot, wet kisses down my neck, her whisper brushing fire against my ear.
“Do you want to see me?”
“Yes,” I breathe, the word barely audible.
She steps back just enough for me to watch as her hands slide behind her, unhooking her bra.
One strap slips down her shoulder, then the other, before the fabric falls away.
Her breasts spill free—full, perfect, flushed.
Her nipples are already tight, begging for my mouth.
Jesus Christ. She has the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, by the way…” she murmurs, voice dripping with seduction, “I’m not wearing any panties.”
A groan rips from me, my hand dragging through my hair as I fight for control. “What the hell are you doing to me, Melina?”
She laughs low and wicked, and pushes her shorts down, sliding over her hips and thighs. Then she’s there—completely bare, gloriously exposed. A goddess. My goddess.
I rake over every inch of her, hunger burning deep inside. I shake my head slowly. “I’m in so much fucking trouble.”.
She closes the distance, her body pressing hot against mine.
My arms lock around her, greedy, pulling her in.
I tilt her chin up and claim her mouth in a passionate, searing kiss.
She answers by scraping her nails down my spine, leaving fire in their wake, then grabbing my ass hard, her fingers biting into my skin.
“Do you want to touch me?” she whispers, looking up through heavy, hooded eyes.
Words fail me, so I nod, rough and eager. She takes my hands, guiding one to her breast. I drag my thumb across her hardened nipple, and she gasps, arching into me. I do it again. And again. Each pass has her breath coming sharper, rougher.
“You’re so damn responsive,” I murmur, watching every flicker of her expression.
Her lips curve in a shaky smile. “FYI… my nipples are incredibly sensitive.”
“I noticed.” I cup her other breast, rolling both nipples between my fingers. Her head tips back, a cry tearing from her throat as her entire body shudders under me.
“You’re gonna make me come like that,” she warns breathlessly, grabbing my wrist to still me. Then she drags my hand lower—over her belly, past the soft curve of her hips—until my fingers slip into her slick, scorching heat.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my breath catching. “You’re soaked.”
Her eyes flutter shut, a deep moan spilling out as she rocks against my palm, pressing my fingers deeper inside her. Then she pulls free before sinking them in again, directing me, showing me exactly what she craves.
It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen—her taking control, using me like this. I’ve never had a woman so unapologetically in command. I’m coming completely undone.
Her hand wraps around me again, stroking harder, faster, until I’m shaking. Then she shifts, brushing my tip against her swollen clit, slick and throbbing. The contact rips a groan from my throat, my vision going hazy at the edges.
“Melina,” I rasp, voice breaking, every muscle tensed with restraint. “I can’t take much more.”
She chuckles low. Then, slow as sin, she sinks to her knees, dragging open-mouthed kisses down my chest, my ribs, my stomach. I brace against the wall, pulse hammering, watching her kneel in front of me.
Her gaze locks on mine as her tongue flicks over the throbbing head of my cock, licking up a fresh bead of pre-cum. A strangled sound tears from me. She circles me once, twice, before taking me all the way, swallowing my length in one smooth motion.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in her hair.