He was so freaking right before – it’s sizzling, burning, flourishing within me now, pleasure, everything, our worlds colliding – when he said I didn’t have to think.
Thought drops away.
It’s just our instincts, honed down to this moment.
He smirks and I feel his face shifting in my hand, hard jawed, his eyes flitting down to my breasts.
“Play with them,” he commands, his voice changed, as though his inner animal has completely taken control now. “Pinch your nipples like you’re trying to squeeze milk out of them. Now, Melody.”
A shiver runs through me at the commanding note in his voice. It feels so perfect to do what he wants, to see the way his face twists as I lightly touch my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. All my life, I’ve seen my breasts as too ungainly, as too not-normal, but the way he looks at me tells me that he finds them as glorious as everything else about me.
I feel beautiful.
I feel wanted.
And it’s intoxicating, my pussy tightening now, the pressure building as I tug harder and harder on my nipples for my man.
“Fuck,” he snaps, leaning down and biting my neck softly, gnawing at it like a beast. “Cream. Come all over my dick. Come now, Melody. Do it. Do it.”
I gasp and throw my head back, my arms falling limply as everything in me channels to the fireworks of hunger in my pussy.
Sparks battle and war inside of me.
Pressure breaks.
Something pours like lava over my lips and my clit and inside my pussy, the deep space that his unbelievably massive cock keeps hammering into.
My eyes snap shut and I stare at the redness of my eyelids, my pleasure a wildfire scorching through me.
My pussy gets tight, tighter, so that he makes a grunting noise, and has to drive inside of me with more force.
The slapping of our union fills the air with its down-and-dirty sounds, my pussy singing for him, his cock thundering into me now as helpings of my cream wash down right to his balls.
“Fuck, you’re doing it,” he snarls, staring down at our joined sexes. “It looks so fucking tasty. Keep going. More. More.”
“Ahhhhh,” I cry, his words triggering another orgasm inside of me, hot on the heels of the last one.
I don’t know if this is normal, one coming so quickly after the last, but I’m utterly at his mercy as he pommels into me with his powerful body.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps.
“Come inside me, Mason,” I manage to breathe, my words warbled with the shuddering motion of our sex. “My womb wants you. I need your seed.”
“Ah, keep saying that,” he gasps, voice catching, turning almost hollow.
“Your seed,” I cry, slamming down against his balls.
Another.
It shatters through me and is more intense than the last two, spreading whispering hands and clamping tight to every part of me. I have to work hard to force the words out as I squirt buckets of thick white cream all over his cock.
“Y-your seed,” I whimper, my vision blurring with tears of pure pleasure. “I want your seed. My womb wants your—your—”
He throws his head back the same way I did, but he howls like a wolf as he empties his seed inside of me.
I wish I could snap a picture of this moment.
Every muscle tight, sweat sliding down his sculpted form and making him glisten.
My orgasm shimmers and squirts as he shoots more and more of his seed inside of me, both of us climaxing at the exact same moment, frozen in time.
Then time resumes and he collapses on top of me, panting, giving me a sweet mouthful of his sweaty chest muscles.
“Fuck,” he growls, rolling aside and pulling me toward him, cradling me to his chest. “That was … You’re …”
He trails off, grinning like a wild beast down at me.
“You’re everything, Melody.”
I smile and touch his face again, deciding that I’ll tell him now, right now, that my name is not really Melody Smith, that I have a past that might make him run.
But then I imagine this untouchable moment being ruined.
Ruined by the truth.
But still ruined.
And I say nothing.
CHAPTER NINE
Mason
The following afternoon, I sit in my office staring at the photograph of Clive Jameson, otherwise known as Hardhat.
The image on my computer screen shows a tall, bald man with dead eyes. His bald head is covered in razor-wire tattoos, giving him the appearance of wearing a twisted version of a crown.
My private investigator informed me he used to work in the neighboring city, a scumbag who’ll do any number of fucked-up things as long as the pay is right. Somehow, he found his way to this city and was paid – most likely by one of my competitors – to sabotage our cellphone reveal.
What he’s doing in my goddamned city isn’t clear, but I’m guessing it has something to do with Melody.
Leave Melody alone.
“Keep wishing, asshole.”
All yesterday, I tried to get myself to broach the topic of her surname, her identity, but I couldn’t because I know the hell who she is.
She’s the woman who made me feel something yesterday I never dreamed I would.
And it wasn’t just the sex.
The sex was incredible, life-changing, fucking soul-shaking.
But just as important was how close I felt to her afterward, cradling her to my chest and feeling the emotion pouring from her. I’ve spent so long stomping down on any positive emotion, focusing on the lines-of-code world of my business.
Or turning on the fake smile for the press conferences, playing the grinning CEO.
But with Melody, it’s like I can finally be myself, let go of all the other stuff and just sink into the authenticity of our relationship.
And this Hardhat motherfucker thinks he can ruin that.
It’s time I spoke to Melody about her past.
It’s time I let her know that she doesn’t have to be afraid to be completely honest with me.
Even if she’s done things, lived through things, that she’s not proud of.
I’ll always be there for her.
Forever.
Because she’s fucking mine.
She strides across the room in a flowing summery dress, made of the kind of material that settles over her like mist. Her blonde hair is down, cascading, and she looks fresh, full of life, like a woman whose womb has awoken to the possibility of carrying a child.
Even as she sits and I see she’s frowning, her eyebrows furrowed, but she can’t shake the look of unashamed life flourishing through her.
I’m about to remove my palm – where I’ve got the playing card – when she places her hands on the desk and lets out a shaky sigh.
“Mason,” she says, “I’ve got something to tell you. It’s going to be hard for me. I promised myself that I’d never tell anybody, as much for their safety as my own. But – heck – I care about you. I care about you a lot. And I want to be honest. Please? Just let me talk?”
She must’ve seen I was about to say something, to tell her it’s fine, I’ll always care about her no matter what.
But I can’t ignore the genuine plea in her voice if I wanted to.
“Of course,” I say.
She nods and lets out a shaky breath, jumping up and walking over to the window, fingers interlaced, worrying at each other.
“It’s like this,” she says, turning to me.
She doesn’t sit.
She paces up and down in front of my desk, and it takes a herculean effort to ignore the way her dress flutters temptingly around her body.
“My name is Melody Baston. I’m an orphan. I think you already know that. Well, I had a tough upbringing, I guess you could say. I’ve never been one for self-pitying, but it was hard. Because of some of the crap that went on at some of the places I was staying, I was on the streets at seventeen. That’
s a different world, Mason, the streets, struggling just to survive. I did some embarrassing, humiliating things, like stealing food from restaurant tables after people had paid their bills.”
She hangs her head.
I stand up and move over to her, wrapping her in my arms and smoothing my hand through her hair.
“Whatever you did, you had to do,” I say. “You’re a good person, Melody. Don’t ever let your past make you doubt that.”
“I never committed any serious crimes,” she murmurs, voice heavy with tears. “But I did steal when I had to. I stole cellphones off park benches. Stuff like that. I’m not proud of this.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You were a child. You were scared.”
“Anyway,” she says. “After some time, I got a job as a courier for this small-time crook. It was easy. Carry stuff from one part of the city to the other. Never look in the packages. That was the rule. And I stuck to it. But one time I delivered a package to this crazy man called Hardhat. Hardhat, he’s … everybody on the street had heard of him. He’s one of those people who just snaps for no reason. He has his own code of ethics. That’s how he sees it. But really he’s just freaking insane.”
I keep stroking my hands through her hair, letting her talk, the pain in her voice makes me want to find every bastard who’s ever been cruel to her and shatter their spines.
“So I deliver this package,” she whispers. “And Hardhat tells me I’ve opened it and looked inside. I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”
She stares at me, eyes shimmering.
“I believe you,” I whisper, smoothing a tear from her cheek with my thumb.
“But he said I did. I later found out he was just having a bad day. Another lowlife had stolen from him. And then even later I found out that he’d caved that man’s head in with a sledgehammer. That’s his preferred method of killing people. That’s why they call him Hardhat because not even a hardhat can’t save you, he hits so hard. Get it? Very freaking clever, right?”
She pauses, taking a bolstering breath.
“When I told him I didn’t look inside, he started calling me all these names. Then he said I was a good whore and I’d earn him money doing just that. Being a whore. He went to grab me and—I just reacted, Mason. It was a reflex. I’d spent too long on the streets to just let a man grab me like that.”
“Whatever you did, he deserved it,” I whisper fiercely.
“I cut open his cheek with my keys. I already had them in my hand. I sliced him right open and he was bleeding, there was blood everywhere … and then I ran. And I’ve been running ever since. Hardhat never lets anybody get away with anything. This was two years ago and he’s still chasing me. I changed cities. I started going by Melody Smith. Silly, keeping the same first name, but I couldn’t let him take everything from me, could I?”
“No,” I snarl. “You couldn’t. Because you’re strong. You’re fierce. You’re the best-goddamned person I’ve ever met.”
“But don’t you get it?” she cries, spinning away from me and returning to the window, glancing out at the city as though searching the tiny-looking roads below for Hardhat. “This puts everybody in danger. You, Gertrude, everybody, because sooner or later he’s going to catch up with me. And then what? You don’t get it, Mason. He never forgets. It’s his whole freaking thing.”
“Melody,” I say quietly, walking over to the desk and picking up the playing card. “He’s already targeted me.”
“What?”
She spins, staring at the card.
A shiver moves through her when she sees what it is, but not the sort that captivates her when we’re on the verge of falling carnally into each other. This is a tempest of uncertainty, fear, her eyes flitting here and there as though searching for an escape route.
“What do you mean?” she whispers.
I tell her about the espionage and the note, starting with it being an employee who laid the sabotage and ending with the intimidation, and it being Hardhat who initiated it all.
“So what?” she whispers, dropping into the seat with the card in her hands, gazing at it. “You think he targeted your company because of me? Because I was working with your sister?”
“Maybe,” I mutter. “But I don’t think so. If he knew you were here, surely he would have made a move? I think it’s just a fucked-up coincidence.”
“Maybe the same fate that led us together led him to me,” she mutters sadly.
I wheel my chair around the desk and sit down next to her, placing my hand on her shoulder, squeezing and letting a sense of support flow through me.
“I’ll always protect you,” I growl. “I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’m moving you into my penthouse apartment. It has personal security and you’ll be safe there. And I’ll put a security detail on Gertrude, too. I’ve already had a personal detail on you since I got this card, but I know you’ll feel better with one on her as well. I won’t let this bastard hurt you or the people you care about. I’m here for you, Melody. For now and for the rest of our goddamned lives. You’re mine.”
She turns to me with tears glistening like pained jewels in her eyes.
“So you already knew I was lying to you? And you still want me?”
“You weren’t lying,” I say passionately. “You were working your way around to telling me the whole truth. In your own time. And I respected that because I know, deep in my bones, that you’re a good person.”
“Thank you,” she sobs, throwing her arms around me so that the playing card flutters like an autumn leaf to the floor.
Where it belongs.
Because Hardhat is one low motherfucker and there’s no way I’m letting him spoil what we have.
“You’re not angry I’ve secretly had security trailing you?” I mutter, chest tight.
“No,” she says, and immediately the tension relaxes. “Because I trust you. I know you’ll always do what’s best for me.”
“Always,” I growl fervently.
“Every time I imagined telling somebody this, that I have a psycho killer following me, I never thought I’d get support. You’re amazing, Mason. I… I really care about you. I know it’s crazy and everything, how quickly this is happening, but who the heck cares?”
“Not me,” I snarl, my chest hammering like a stampeding horse. “Fast or slow, we can’t fight fate, Melody. Not us.”
I … I really care about you.
That stutter, that pause.
Was she going to say something else?
I wipe the warm tears from her cheeks and kiss her softly, hoping I can push away the pain.
CHAPTER TEN
Melody
Natalie walks just in front of me, looking around the wide-open grounds, the lawn as tended as an English aristocrat’s in a Jane Austen novel, the castle looming up before us, up a row of cobblestone stairs.
“So this would be where I enter?” she asks, her face full of delight.
“Yes,” I tell her, mirroring her smile.
And not having to try very hard to do it.
It’s crazy, I reflect as the midday sun blazes down on us, but ever since I told Mason about Hardhat if anything things have gotten better between us.
Staying in his penthouse that overlooks the city, to falling asleep every night with his warm reassuring presence at my side, it’s been like a slice of heaven transported down here to earth.
Even with that madman still out there, searching, always freaking searching, I’ve found myself relaxing into the magical upward flow that is our life.
Every day, better than the last.
Fine, it’s only been three days, but still.
Our lovemaking is always red hot and beautiful, and the more we come together in carnal embrace the more confidence I feel flowing inside of me, as though I don’t have to be a prisoner to my nerves for the rest of my life.
“Melody?” Natalie says, an indulgent smile on her face.
“Sorry,” I say.
Crap.<
br />
Remember she’s your client, not just Mason’s sister.
“I was away with the clouds, Natalie. I’m sorry.”
She laughs, shaking her head.
“I’m not mad,” she says. “It’s sweet, how close you two are. I’ve never seen Mason like this. He’s like a changed man.”
“Really?” I ask as we walk down the grounds.
I feel like we’re two insects on a planet of stone, the path is so wide.
“Really,” she says with conviction. “He’s always been laser-focused on his work. Which is a good thing. Obviously. Look at what he’s achieved. But even on his off time, he’s never been able to relax. I’ve always sensed there was this sort of sadness in him, you know? Like he wished he could have what other people had, but never thought he would find it. And then he found you.”
My chest beams emotionally.
I find myself grinning like I’m playing for the World’s Cheesiest Smile Award.
“How much has he told about our childhood?” she asks.
“A little,” I say. “I know your parents passed when you were young. I’m sorry about that, Natalie. Really. I know how hard that can be.”
“But nothing else?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“That’s typical Mason. He’s one of the hardest workers in the world, but he hates to brag. He never talks about his donations to charity. His volunteer work. Anyway, when Mom and Dad passed, he was only sixteen years old, but he took it upon himself to care for me. He always made sure we had food on the table, working double shifts at jobs he hated. And studying in his spare time, always studying. When he founded Spark, nobody thought he would succeed. Well, nobody but me. And then he did, and he gave me a job. Don’t get me wrong. I work damn hard and I’m good at what I do. But I never would’ve been given a chance at this kind of life if it wasn’t for my big brother.”
“He’ll make an amazing father,” I whisper, my voice wavering a little, heavy with emotion.
Natalie laughs in delight and clasps my hand.
“You two are so crazy and cute,” she says. “Crazily cute. You’re already talking about kids. I love it. I’d love to be an aunt before a mother, you know, get some practice in.”
The CEO And The Wedding Planner: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 201) Page 6
