Stolen Melody (Snow and Ash #2) (3 page)

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 go 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.”

I try to pretend I’m not sitting on his lap, my legs wide and my breasts practically shoving themselves at his face. Again, he puts his hands on my backside and caresses me.

“You’ve got the best ass,” he tells me. “Sometime I’m going to bury my cock so deep in there, you won’t be able to sit.”

I draw in a breath at the mention of anal sex. Surely he won’t… Oh please don’t let him do that.

But all he does is run his hands around and up my belly. He spreads the sweater open so my breasts are fully available to him. “Those tits. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of taking one in my mouth.”

Like my breasts, my nipples are not small. Axel leans forward and rolls one on his tongue. I don’t want to like it. I school myself to feel nothing, but a drop of moisture leaks out from between my legs. He begins sucking with long, hard pulls that almost hurt. It’s so depraved and so hot, and even though only half an hour ago he raped me, all I can think about is how soon he’ll get to the other one.

He lifts his head, glances at the expression on my face, and takes the other breast. He suckles me, and I feel like I’m his possession. I want to be. I want to cup my hands under my breasts and offer them like a tribute to the gods. When he softly pinches my nipple, I sigh. He does it again, and I lean into him. Axel picks me up and lowers me to the floor, legs spread wide, and he kneels between them. Is he going to… No. No way. I squeeze my legs together and reach to push him away, but he captures my hands and forces them to my sides.

“I promised you I’d make it good for you, baby. I’m going to make you come.”

Before I do anything other than shake my head, he bends and touches his tongue right there. So gentle. So soft. He licks me, and it’s like being stroked by angels. Dirty, nasty, perverted angels. I relax and part my legs for him. I shouldn’t let him do this, but it feels so good. He tongues my clit and presses a hand down firmly on my belly. I don’t know why this excites me, but it does and I spread wider for him.

He pulls back and studies me, and I picture myself how he must see me—eyes glazed with lust, lips red and parted, my legs spread wide for him. He stands and unzips his pants again, but before he can completely shuck them, I’m up and running. He laughs as he catches me. He swings me around and lowers me onto the soft rug and kneels down. He strokes himself, and for the first time I get a look at it. The thing is huge. No wonder he hurt me. He cups himself under his balls, strokes his shaft a couple more times, then leans forward and rubs the tip over my crotch.

“Please don’t,” I beg. “It hurts.”

“That’s because mine’s the only cock that’s been in that pussy of yours.”

His eyes bore into me, and he raises himself up on his forearms. He positions his shaft with his hand until it’s resting against my tender parts, and he begins sliding it against me. Oddly, he doesn’t try to penetrate. He uses my juices to lubricate himself, and he begins fucking my clit. I can’t deny it. I want it. I spread my legs wider, and that now-familiar tension begins to coil inside me. The sight of his engorged penis rubbing so intimately against me sends me into a frenzy, and I raise my legs. I want to wrap them around him, to seal him to me. Instead, he takes my hands and has me hold my legs up, just high enough that he has full access to every part of me. He strokes me with his—his cock, and with his fingers he teases my clit. I buck against him like some mindless thing meant only for pleasure. When he reaches up and twists my nipple, it happens.