"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.
Melody ordered a grilled cheese, a plate of fried zucchini ("You're right about eating more vegetables," she'd explained when he'd given her an exasperated look), and a chocolate milkshake. She'd added a Caesar salad, though he'd rolled his eyes and muttered that she might as well just eat a burger. That had sounded like it would hit the spot, so she had ordered them a bacon cheeseburger, too.
"You're going to die of heart disease," he said sadly. "Who will disagree with everything I say, then?"
"I'll haunt you," she said cheerfully, wiggling until she was on her side, sharing Dylan's pillow. They faced each other, covered only partially by a thin hotel sheet. He palmed her thigh beneath the sheet and hooked her leg over his hip. She liked that, so she moved even closer, until her breasts came in contact with his chest. The friction against her nipples sparked the fire within her again, but she put a lid on it. Food first, then more sex. A woman had to have priorities.
"Promise?" he asked quietly. Something vulnerable lurked behind his eyes, something Melody had only seen glimpses of in the past. Suddenly, she felt sad-and angry. Whoever had turned the sweet poetic boy with a beat-up acoustic guitar into the glib, womanizing asshole with a self-destructive streak a mile wide, was someone she wanted to meet in a dark alley. Since it was unlikely that she'd ever have that chance, she vowed that she would do everything in her power to beat the asshole down, and breathe life back into the poet.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said softly. "I'll haunt your ass with a vengeance. Not even the Ghostbusters will be able to get rid of me."
His lips curled again, into that unconscious smile that was all the sweeter because it was so different from the sexy smile he had carefully cultivated for the stage and his groupies. "I ain't afraid of no ghost," he quipped.
They kissed softly for a while, hands and mouths taking their time now that the hormonal rush had simmered down. Room service came and went. Dylan ate half the grilled cheese, and even tried a bite of the bacon cheeseburger after she goaded him into it.