Stolen Melody (Snow and Ash #2)

by Heather Knight

  “No,” I whisper.

  He breathes in, and I get the impression he’s smiling even though I can’t see. “Best day of my life.”

  I feel his dick grow into a full-on erection.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The townspeople return, and one by one they’ve placed their “tax” in the vestibule. A good chunk of our harvest is sitting on the floor of the church. Several of our prized turkeys are caged for travel. They join a pile of blankets and various other objects our people think of as valuable.

  “Nice work, everyone,” the leader says. He does sound pleased. “Frankly, that’s quite a bit more than I thought we’d see.”

  Shoot. Churchy people and their honesty.

  “Now,” he says, “just to show you how grateful I—we—are, I’m going to let the girl go.” He nods to Axel.

  Axel pulls the gun from my head and releases the grip at my waist. Without even a glance at him, I spring up and make straight for Mrs. Glaros. Her seventy-year-old eyes are kind, and she wraps me to her chest.

  “We’ll be needing sleeping arrangements for the night,” Leader Guy goes on. “Several of our men will stay here with the hostages. The rest of you will quarter the remaining members of our party. You’ll feed them, house them, entertain them, and when it’s time for us to leave tomorrow, all of them will report safely back here to the church.” He smiles. “Then you can have your people back.”

  “What did that man say to you?” whispers Mrs. Glaros.

  “He was teasing me.” I avoid her eyes. “I think he liked making me uncomfortable.”

  To say the least.

  “Stay away from him. These men, they’re bad for girls like you.”

  I stare at her. Ya think?

  I cast one last look at Axel as Mrs. Glaros and I leave the church. He isn’t looking at me at all, and I let out a long breath.

  Mrs. Glaros takes me to her house. I’m in the kitchen getting a cup of water when I hear two loud knocks on the door. Whoever it is doesn’t wait for a response. The door flies open and crashes against the wall.

  “What do you think you’re—” Mrs. Glaros’s voice quivers.

  “You’ll be quartering us for the night, Grandma. Now go get us a drink.”

  I shrink back out of sight as hurried footsteps approach. Mrs. Glaros seizes me by the arm, a hard bead in her eye. “You get back to the rectory,” she says. “Don’t light any fires, candles, anything. Just lock the doors and use extra blankets.”

  She tugs me toward the door and opens it. I nod, too frightened to speak.

  She practically flings me outside. I stumble, but I manage to catch myself.

  “Don’t let anyone see you!” she hisses.

  I don’t need to be told twice. I don’t need to be told at all. I dodge my way back to the rectory and quickly shut the door behind me. For a moment I sag against the wood. Then I spin around and lock it. I lock the back door, too, and all the windows.

  I’m dizzy, and my stomach is thick with fear. If they kill Uncle Mike, I think I’ll just curl up and die. Without him I have no one. I feel my way in the semidarkness toward the living room. Once there I press a hand against the wall and lean my forehead to the cool old-fashioned plaster.

  An arm encircles my waist. “Mine.”

  My heart leaps and I scream. Axel’s hand closes over my mouth, and he shushes me. Those soft lips of his brush up against my neck. “You don’t want them to hear, do you, Melody?”

  I shake my head. My heart beats so hard I think it’ll explode.

  “I told you,” I say when he takes his hand away, “I’m not like that. The Melody image was set up by a corporation.”

  He turns me around and pins my arms to the wall. Ice-blue eyes bore into me. “I saw how pissed you were when they kicked out that woman. I saw how glazed your eyes were in that sermon. You ain’t Miss Purity.”

  “I am. I swear I am.”

  He smiles. “Look. I don’t care what they think of you. You’ve got a good thing going here. Not many folks have it as nice as you; I can tell you that. But I’m going to get my piece. I’m not leaving until I do.”

  My chest caves. “Don’t. Please?”

  “I’ll make it good for you,” he says, pressing himself closer. “Better than any of these damn idiots you call men around here.”

  “It’s not—I don’t want to do it. Okay? Please don’t make me.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

  His expression closes, and one of those hands of his drifts down to my neck and rests there. “Ask me to fuck you.”

  I will never. My lips try to form words, but nothing comes.

  “Ask me to fuck you, or I’ll tell every goddamn one of them that you’re Melody. I’ll even show them a picture.”

  My breath catches, and even though I shut my eyes tight, tears squeeze out. He catches one with his tongue, and a sizzle of warmth spreads through me.

  “Do you want me to die?” I ask him.

  The hand around my neck tightens. “Why would you say that?”

  “If you tell them about me, the pastor will be forced to send me out. If I have sex with you, they’ll send me out. I’ll die out there. You know that.”

  I open my eyes.

  He seems to consider my words. But then he smiles, and I know I’m wrong. “No one needs to know. Just you and me.”

  “But—”

  “Ask me to fuck you.” His expression is fierce, and it scares me. He’s dangerous; I know that. He could kill me, walk off, and not even think about it. There’s no way he’s the gentle type. He could really hurt me if he wanted.

  I shake so hard I can barely speak. I look at the ceiling and let the tears fall openly. “Will you let me go after you’re done with me?”

  He blinks and his pupils go wide. He gives a sharp nod.

  “You won’t tell anyone anything.” This I need to know. I don’t want to go through it again—half the whole world looking at me like I’m garbage, the other half trying to figure out how to get in my pants. All of them calling me a whore.

  He takes the hand from my neck and caresses my face. “It’ll be our little secret.”

  I don’t want to die. Not when I’ve never even lived.

  Back when I was on tour, my friends at home were all getting laid. This one girl, her older sister was in college. She told us about this one guy she went on a date with. He wouldn’t stop pawing her no matter what she did, so she finally let him do it, just to get it over with.

  That’s all I have to do. Let him feel me up, stick his thing in me for a few minutes, and then it’ll all be over. No one will ever know.

  I nod. I shake so hard that even my hair is moving.

  He licks his lips and pulls me to him. He slides his hands down to my backside and presses me against the length of him. God, what am I doing?

  He barely brushes his lips against mine, but I feel the tingle of it. “You didn’t say it,” he whispers. He uses his hands to massage my backside, pressing me even closer, and it feels dirty. It feels…

  I can’t say it. I just can’t.

  His face goes serious. He releases me and takes a step backward. “I’m sure the townspeople will understand.”

  He shrugs and turns as if to go.

  “Wait!” Oh God. I can’t believe this is happening.

  He turns his head and arches a brow.

  “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “You can h—have sex with me.”

  He’s on me in an instant. He cups my face, then encircles my waist and brings me to him. His eyes are liquid ice on fire. “I’m going to make it so good.”

  When he kisses me this time, it’s real. His thick, full lips cover mine and drink me in.

  I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do. He’s running his hands up and down my back when he deepens the kiss. His tongue parts my lips, and soon he’s inside me. And it feels good. Really good.

  He tears his head away for a moment, and his eyes g
o heavy. “Yeah.”

  He’s on me again, this time rougher, more demanding. Despite myself, my body reacts to him. His tongue masters mine, and it feels even better than it did in my dream. My breaths grow heavy, ragged, and when he moves his mouth to my neck, I let out a moan.

  He pushes me away and takes several steps back. “Take your clothes off.”

  I stare at him.

  “Now!”

  This is not a man you mess with. I take off my shoes first. My hands are shaking as I peel back the cardigan and toss it onto the floor. I can’t look at him. The too-ugly-for-words floral skirt is next.

  He laughs at the sight of the granny panties. “Nice.”

  I can’t do it, but one look at the front of his pants tells me I have to. I hesitate only for a moment, and then I pull the yellow T-shirt over my head.

  All that’s left is my bra and panties. Hoping that’s enough, I swing my hair around to cover as much of myself as I can. I look to him.

  He nods, indicating the bra is next.

  My throat thickens as I shrug out of the first strap, then the second. I reach around to the back and undo the hooks, and my breasts swing free.

  He sighs with a smile, and my nipples go hard. It’s humiliating, and I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Oh no,” he says. “You’re not even remotely done. The panties.”

  It takes a couple of breaths before I can uncross my arms. I slide my fingers around the waist of my underwear.

  “Turn around,” he tells me. “Do it slow. Real slow.”

  I hate him. I hate myself. I turn and do as he says. I pull the panties down, down, down until my backside is in the air and my pussy exposed.

  “Oh yeah,” he mutters.

  I’m stepping out of my panties when I feel his hands on my backside, stroking me.

  “I’ve waited years for this,” he says. He presses his fingers into my crotch, and when he finds me wet, his breathing quickens. I’m so humiliated I could die.

  I’m actually wet for him.

  “Get over there,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I want you on that rug.”

  I do as he says, but before I can lie down, he captures me in a fierce embrace. His eyes squeeze shut as he frenches me, as though he’s pouring his entire soul into mine. He finds my breasts and cups them. His hands are rough and calloused against my skin as he squeezes them, rolls them around in his hands. His thumbs stroke my nipples, and I gasp. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I actually like it. Another trickle of moisture seeps out of that place between my legs.

  His lips replace his thumbs. At the first suck the breath catches in my throat. If I thought his fingers felt good, I was mistaken. His mouth is heaven. He pulls on me hard, and I cling to him because I know if I don’t, I’ll fall. I don’t care anymore that this is rape. I don’t care who he is. The only thing I want is for him to not stop.

  Axel pauses only to tug off his coat before he kisses me again. My treacherous hands find his neck and head, which he has shaven close. For some reason this is unbearably sexy to me.

  He flings off his shirt.

  “On your hands and knees,” he directs.

  I blink. I thought people only did that in porn.

  “On your fucking hands and knees.”

  My heart picks up speed, both in fear and excitement, and I do as he says.

  I hear his shoes fall. When I hear him unzip his pants, I can’t believe this is happening. Here, in churchy Sadie’s Bend, on the floor of the pastor’s living room.

  He gets down behind me and strokes my pussy. His fingers find my clit, and I let out a soft moan. I can’t help it. My hips move back against him to the rhythm of his strokes. Nothing I’ve ever imagined has prepared me for this. My need is primitive, and all I can think about is how I want him. I want him to suck me, touch me, stroke me. I want him to do anything he wants, anything at all.

  I groan. My breasts are hard and tingling, and that place deep inside me aches to be filled.

  “Ask me again,” he growls.

  He takes his fingers away, and I gasp. A moment later he rubs the tip of his erection against me. Against my opening, against my clit. “Please,” I gasp, and I mean it.

  “Please what,” he demands, and there is triumph in his voice.

  “Please fuck me,” I breathe. Oh God, if he doesn’t do it soon, I think I’ll go insane.

  His breath hitches, and for a moment I tense. It’s about to happen.

  He presses the head at my entrance, and with a hard, quick shove he tears into me.

  I cry out. I forgot there would be pain the first time.

  “You’re…” He does not finish. He takes a moment, and then with a groan he begins to move. It hurts. It really hurts.

  “Tight, so tight,” he moans, and it sounds like he, too, is in pain. With a ragged breath he grasps my hips and begins working me hard. I clench my teeth to hold back my cries, afraid I’ll make him angry. That animalistic desire is gone now, and all I can feel is his hands on my hips, his body invading mine with fierce thrusts, and the slap of his balls against my cunt as he pushes himself all the way to the deepest parts of me.

  He gives a particularly hard shove and grinds himself against me, like he’d like to go deeper, mash the rest of his body into mine. Only he can’t because I can’t take his balls inside me too. He grinds me again. With a brutal grip to my hips, he shoves into me so hard my whole body jerks, and with each thrust he lets out this triumphant groan. It goes on and on for what seems like forever. It hurts even worse when he picks up speed, and then with a long, stuttering moan, he lets loose. I can feel his stuff spray deep inside me. He groans more softly this time, gives a few halfhearted strokes, and then sags down on top of me. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, and I can feel his sweat dripping onto my back.

  “Fuck,” he mutters. He caresses my back, my buttocks before pulling himself free of me.

  I draw a shuddering breath and collapse onto the rug.

  He eyes me as though he’s just seen me for the first time. “Jesus Christ. You’re a virgin.”

  I turn away and let loose my tears.

  “Got anything to eat?” he asks, pulling on his threadbare jeans. He shoves himself securely inside and zips them up. “I’m starving.”

  “Can’t you just leave?” He got what he came for.

  He fakes surprise. “You’re quartering me. All night. You have to feed me, house me, entertain me, and deliver me safely back to the church in one piece.”

  I’m still naked and bloody. I draw my limbs together and reach for the nearest thing, which turns out to be the cardigan.

  “I don’t think so,” he says. “You’ve got to have something sexier than that.”

  I pull the edges closer over my chest. “It’s Sadie’s Bend. What do you think?”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine. You can wear the sweater. Nothing else.”

  If it’s his intention to humiliate me, it’s working. I try to hold my head high as I pass him into the hall and through to the kitchen. This is hard to do when your butt is hanging out the back. A beat later he follows behind me. He flops down onto one of the kitchen chairs and stretches.

  I ignore him as I take out some bread and cut off several slices. There’s some ham in the ice box, and I shave some off and add it to the sandwich. After, I pour him a cupful of milk and slap the meal in front of him.

  He looks at the milk and raises his brows. “Milk?”

  “Sadie’s Bend.”

  He chuckles, and without another word he begins eating. I rip off chunks of bread and stuff them in my mouth. I’m really, really not in the mood for meat. When I’ve polished off two slices, I pour myself some distilled water and take a long drink. I don’t think I’ve ever been this thirsty. I set the cup down and discover he’s watching me. Or rather, he’s staring at my breasts, which are peaking out through the opening. Blushing, I jerk the sweater closed.

  He cannot leave soon enough.


  Axel finishes off his sandwich, washes it down with the milk, and pushes the plate away. “Gotta say, I’m having a good time.”

  “Good for you.”

  “What you got for dessert?”

  “We’re a little short on sugar here. You know, what with the apocalypse and all.”

  “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

  I clamp my lips shut. I don’t want to make him so mad he gets physical.

  “Hey, I know.”

  I stare at him, and he grins. “You ever give a guy a blow job?”

  “What? No!”

  “Well, shit.” He drums his fingers on the table and looks around the room.

  “I thought you guys could only do it, I don’t know, once a night.”

  He lowers his brow. “I ain’t forty.”

  Bugger.

  His chest is still bare, and I note for the first time—duh—that he has a series of tribal-looking tattoos going across one shoulder and down his arm. It only adds to his dangerous appeal.

  “Like what you see?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Liar. Get over here.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  “Get over here, Melody.” His voice is cold.

  This stops me dead. I’m still in his control, and we both know it. He could go back on his word at any moment.

  I take a hesitant step, then another, and then I’m standing in front of him. Like I’m some sort of barn animal, he brushes his hand over my pubic hair. He parts my thighs and peers between them. I feel like I’m going to die. He snakes a finger over my crotch and brings it back covered in blood. Looking me straight in the face, he sticks his finger in his mouth and sucks it clean.

  Holy shit.

  “Sit,” he commands. He adjusts the chair so he’s facing me. “Straddle me. Yeah, just like that.”