A Rocker's Melody (Dust and Bones) (15 page)

He wanted to take his time with her. He wanted her on a soft bed strewn with rose petals, surrounded with candles and all sorts of other romantic bullshit that had seemed like a waste of time before he’d met her. He wanted her to have all the things girls always seemed to want.

Melody, however, only seemed to want him out of his pants, if the way her fingers were working at his belt was any indication. And when had he unbuttoned her shirt? Shit, she was wearing a lacy yellow bra. It looked like sunshine on her skin. His hand pressed against her flesh, right above her breast. He felt her heart beating beneath his palm and she mimicked him (when had
his
shirt been unbuttoned?) for a perfect, still moment.

“We can slow down,” he said quietly, pressing his forehead against hers. “Or stop, if you want. I don’t want you to have any doubts. Or fears.”

“I’ve got both,” she said, her honest eyes staring up into his. “But they’re not your fault. Well,” she grinned, taking the sting out of her words, “they’re not
all
your fault.”

“But if I make you mine now, you’ll belong to me forever,” he said, unashamed. “Are you sure, Mel?”

“I’m brave,” she reminded him. “And you’re worth the risk.”

In a world where people tripped over themselves to pay him lavish compliments, that simple statement was the nicest fucking thing anyone had ever said. Any thought of stopping went out the window. Dylan brought their mouths together again, nipping gently at her lower lip; enjoying the little moan she let out in response. Her hands went back to his belt, and his went for the button on her jeans. They worked together, the same way they had at the piano, until his pants were open and hers were on the floor.

Melody backed up until she hit the piano. She looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow.
Should we?

He smirked back at her.
Hell yeah.

His hands wrapped around her waist and lifted at the same time she jumped. They settled her atop the piano. He rested his open palms on her knees and she spread them wide enough for him to step forward between them. As soon as he was pressed against her, he felt those long, wild legs wrap around his hips, holding him in place. His mouth began exploring her jaw, the hollow of her throat, each of her ears in turn. He was being greedy again, desperate to have all of her at once.

“I can’t stop,” he muttered, palming her breasts in each hand, groaning at the way her nipples pebbled through the sheer fabric of her sunshine-yellow bra. He lowered his head to take one of them between his lips, nibbling gently on the tight peak.

“I don’t want you to,” she whispered, her nails scraping at his back, his scalp. Every time he did something she liked, she clenched her fingers a little harder as they roamed his body. He wanted more of her bare skin, more of her taste.

His hand reached the side of her panties, a barely-there bikini string. He stuck his finger beneath one of the straps, playing with it, enjoying the way it caused her breathing to accelerate. The pulse on her neck sped; he could feel it beneath his lips as he kissed and sucked at the sensitive spot. As much as he wanted to take his time, to tease her, Dylan was well aware they weren’t exactly in a private area. And as much as he wouldn’t have cared in the past—in fact, public sex where anyone could catch him had always been something of a turn-on for him—he felt protective of Melody. He cared about her well-being, and didn’t want her to be exposed.

He realized that somehow, amazingly, he was a better person when he was with her. And, even more amazingly, he found that he
liked
being that better person.

But since he needed to fuck her too much to stop, that meant he had to be quick.

The hand that had been playing with the waist of her panties drifted to the front. He rubbed against her through the lace, slid his mouth over hers to swallow the mewling little whine she made when she felt him reach her sweet spot. He pulled her lower lip between his teeth at the same time he pushed her panties aside and let his index finger dance over her clit. She bucked against him, her movements wild and unashamed. She was wanton and proud of it, judging by the way she bit at his lip in return. She clenched her feet against his jean-covered ass, a silent encouragement for him to get on with it.

“Put me where you want me,” he teased, his fingers moving faster over her slippery flesh. He moved one of them to her opening, dipping inside just an inch. She felt like heaven.

In response to his challenge, Melody’s hands were inside his pants in an instant, tugging and pulling until she had his cock pressed against her. He pulled her panties aside, and together, they guided him inside.

“God,” she moaned, or maybe it was him. He couldn’t focus on anything except the way she felt. She felt better than anyone else ever had and
shit, shit, shit
he wasn’t wearing a condom.

“We didn’t use anything,” he panted.

“Just pull out,” she muttered.

He laughed. “That’s not very responsible, Ms. Hopkins,” he chastised. His voice was tight and his breathing labored, because he was trying not to move within her while they were having this rather important discussion. This, he reflected, was the sort of conversation people were supposed to have
before
they were in the middle of having sex.

“Are you clean?” she asked.

Dylan nodded; fortunately, he was sort of obsessive compulsive about his health. One obsessed fan who had claimed he was her baby daddy had been more than enough incentive never to go bare-back, thank you very much.

Then why wasn’t he scrambling for a rubber? She felt good, sure, but...it was more than that. He wanted to be with her like this, nothing between them.

“Then we’re fine. I’m on the mother-of-all birth control,” she assured him, obviously thinking that was what his hesitation was about. “Pun intended,” she said, yanking him closer, pulling him farther inside, her limbs holding him to her fiercely, as though she was afraid he’d escape otherwise. Like there was anywhere else he’d ever want to be.

It was
really
fast.

Her knees ended up somewhere around his ribcage, and he braced one of his hands flat against the top of the piano for leverage. Melody anchored one hand in his hair, kissing him sloppy and sweet, while her free hand drifted down to rub frantically at her clit. She was already tightening around him, and in response, his hips moved against her more insistently, fast and hard. Their pelvises slapped together with a wet sound that was so hot, he had to force himself to think about Snake getting out of the shower to calm down, to make it last just a little while longer.

When she moved her other hand between their bodies and started cupping and rolling his balls, not even Snake
and
Tank getting out of the shower could calm him down.

“Mel,” he muttered, biting down on her shoulder to keep from yelling loud enough to bring hotel security running. Her pussy contracted around him, and she started to whimper. He covered her mouth with his hand as she got louder, and she bit down on his palm in return, riding out her orgasm and triggering his. He didn’t pull out. He didn’t want to, and by the dazed, euphoric look in her eyes, she didn’t really want him to, either.

He removed his hand from her mouth, swiping at her bottom lip with his thumb as he went. A perfect imprint of her teeth decorated his skin. She had a matching mark on her shoulder.

“Such an animal,” she whispered, clinging to him with her arms and legs.

“Look who’s talking,” he murmured, dipping his head down to taste her mouth, her chin, the hollow of her throat. The obsessive need to be with her was building again, urging him to take his fill, but slower this time.

“We should go,” she whispered.

“We should,” he said, half worried she was about to say goodnight. “Where should we go?”

“Don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way,” she warned. His heart constricted. “Fast was fun. Fast was
amazing
. So amazing that I’m officially desperate to know what it’s like when you take your time.”

Dylan was relieved, though he really shouldn’t have been. She wanted something real, something long-term. And if she stayed with him for too long, he knew he’d find some way to fuck it all up, to ruin what they had, to hurt her. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. But, he reminded himself—since he was too weak to do the noble thing and walk away before hearts got shattered—she
wanted
something that was so good, it would hurt like crazy when it was over.

And God was it going to hurt when it was over.

**

This man is going to fuck me stupid. And I won’t care. Because I’ll be stupid and satisfied.

Melody’s head was hanging off the edge of the bed. The side edge. At least, she was pretty sure it was the side edge...it was hard to tell where she was. Dylan had his mouth on her thigh, and—
Oh, no, that wasn’t her thigh anymore.

Another brain cell died. She buried her hands in her hair. By now, it was a mess; they had been very busy.

After hastily donning their clothes and darting out of the deserted hotel bar, they’d found themselves alone on a long elevator ride to the ninth floor. By the time they’d made it to Melody’s room, her shirt had been half undone again, and he’d completely lost his. First, he had fucked her against the door. He’d gotten her panties all the way off this time, but nothing else; her shirt had dangled carelessly from one arm. He’d simply shoved her bra down, baring her breasts for his gaze…and his hands, and his mouth. He’d been inside her again in seconds, soon enough that she had been impressed and aroused by his recovery time.

He’d barely let go of her breasts the entire time. When he hadn’t been palming them, his mouth had suckled at the tips while his hands had taken inventory elsewhere. His fingers had rubbed between their bodies as he had pounded into her. The frantic coupling had lasted a delicious eternity. She had come quickly, roughly, but he had held off manually, bringing her down from her high with long, enticing kisses and warm, welcome caresses.

Stumbling back from the door, he’d kept her wrapped around him. Melody wasn’t sure how they had managed to get to the bed without having sustained bodily injury, but she couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. That was a line of thought better reserved for a woman who hadn’t been fucked stupid.

Everything after that had been a blur of skin and lips and fevered cries. She remembered laughing, though she couldn’t remember what had been so funny. She had also smacked him at one point, but again, she couldn’t remember if he’d deserved it or not.

Now, as she lay halfway off the bed, her back arched, his wicked, talented mouth swirling across her wet flesh, she couldn’t remember her own
name
. She could remember his, though.
Dylan.

“Please,” she whispered. He slid his hands under her ass and traced them down the backs of her thighs until he reached her knees. Then he hooked her legs over his shoulders, pushing her farther into his mouth. His lips and tongue sucked and pulled, kissed and licked. Suddenly, she was grateful for all the mindless groupies who had come before her, because they had all turned him into a sex god. They had just been practice for him, but she was going to have him over and over again until she’d had her fill.

I’m never going to get enough of him, though. Never. This is going to hurt so much when it’s over.

She shoved the thought away, burying it far in the back of her mind. This wasn’t the time for melancholy; this was the time to revel in ecstasy.

He pushed two fingers inside her, and let his thumb lightly circle the puckered hole at her rear entrance. Melody writhed beneath him, grasping at the sheets and trying not to scream. Dylan rose up, leaving her gasping and wanting more, and began trailing kisses up her stomach, towards her navel. Though his mouth had left her groin, his fingers remained where they were, moving as quickly as ever.

He nuzzled his nose up higher until it came in contact with her bra, which was still attached to her torso, but was no longer remotely functional.

“This is in my fucking way,” he growled, reaching behind her to unhook and discard it.

“Mercy,” she murmured, only half kidding. Every inch of her skin was oversensitive, hyperaware from her numerous climaxes. Yet still she hungered for him.

He seemed to sense her need for more, and once again, he slipped inside of her. She was wet and ready for him, and arched up to meet him as he sank deep within her, wrapping her legs around his hips. They moved together slowly at first, then faster and faster. He thrust with wanton abandon and she cried out his name, and God’s, and probably a few apostles’ as well, before she came, climaxing around him and bringing him over the edge with her. As she came down from her high, Dylan wrapped his arms around her body and pressed his mouth against her neck.

“No mercy,” he murmured playfully. They lie like that for a few minutes, entwined around one another, simply content to be together. Finally, Melody twisted in his grip, and managed to prop herself up higher on the bed.

“I need water,” she informed him. “Or a milkshake. Maybe a scone.”

“Oh, but I’m not done with you yet,” he said, his voice low and teasing. He tugged at her hips until her backside was flush with his pelvis again. He rubbed against her and she responded at once, pushing back against him, all thoughts of food forgotten.

Who was she kidding? There were several brain cells he hadn’t obliterated yet, and Melody didn’t believe in leaving a job half-finished.

**

“Seriously,” Melody said, panting in exhaustion. “I need sustenance.”

Dylan raised his arm—or at least, he tried to—and gestured feebly at the bedside phone. “Room service,” he grunted. “Get me anything that isn’t fried.”

“Grilled cheese coming right up,” she said, invigorated as always by the opportunity to push his buttons.

He didn’t look annoyed, though. The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement and he gave a lazy half-shrug. She should have known that sex was the key to mellowing him out; she would be sure to use this information to her great benefit in the future.