Defying the Odds(67)

“Fuck,” Clay growled, a shudder going over him before he grabbed her hip once more, his grip nearly bruising. His other hand fisted in Melody’s hair, tugging her head back as he leaned in and breathed against her ear. “Is this what you want?”



“Yes,” Melody choked out, shocking herself as much as him. “I need it. Please.”



She never knew she was supposed to be this woman, one comfortable enough with her own body and desires to make herself vulnerable to him like this. She wanted to be claimed, owned, fucked from behind until she came, screaming Clay’s name. If she wasn’t already in love with Clay, she would have fallen for him just for giving her this freedom. She wasn’t nervous and jumpy; instead she was uninhibited and sexual. From the first time she met him, Clay had been slowly freeing her from her past and the stereotypes everyone, even Melody had believed. She could be wild and sexy; she’d just been waiting for Clay to come along and help her blossom into the woman she was always meant to be.



Clay gave her exactly what she needed. He fucked her hard from behind—the position forcing his thick cock to brush against that sensitive place inside her over and over again. Small sobs of pleasure burst out of Melody, and her body shook as the precipice rose.



She would have worried about falling when she was this out of her mind. She surrendered completely to the rise of pleasure, but Clay promised he wouldn’t let her fall and she believed him. It gave her free rein to just enjoy the strokes and savor the way Clay sounded as he fucked her. Low grunts of pleasure burst out of him, the tug on her hair and the grip on her waist growing tighter the closer they got to oblivion.



She felt suspended in that place between heaven and hell. The pleasure was all consuming, the attraction between them powerful and irresistible, but the release was beyond her reach. Already completely uninhibited, Melody had no problem reaching between her legs.



“Oh shit,” Clay gasped, his hips pushing against hers with another stimulating stroke. He released his tight hold on her hair, his hand slamming against the glass next to her head. “Fuck, you turn me on. Touch yourself. I like that.”



Melody rubbed two fingers against her clit. Her head fell back against Clay’s shoulder, and she moaned from the dual stimulation. She was going to come. She could feel the climax building to the point that resisting it was almost impossible. She was too turned on, too incredibly grateful to be liberated from past demons, too wanton and free. She fell over the edge, giving in to the flash of pleasure with Clay’s name on her lips.



The pulse of her orgasm was consuming. Everything faded to a white haze of bliss. The thrill was electrified when Clay reacted to her coming and pushed her against the glass. He fucked her harder, faster, drawing out Melody’s pleasure with every push of his cock into her pussy, which was clenching from the force of her release. Then he tensed behind her, crying out her name with the same feral passion, and shuddered with his own climax. They were lost together, flying over a sea of lights, trapped in the space between, and Melody wanted it to last forever.



But nothing lasted forever.



Melody got a bizarre mental whiplash when the pleasure faded to a hazy hum, jarring her back to reality. She found herself breathless, sagging against the window and blinking at blurred city lights. Clay’s arm wrapped around her waist was the only thing keeping her on her feet because her legs had stopped supporting her weight somewhere along the way. Her ankles hurt. Sexy or not, those high heels had to go.



Clay groaned behind her, making it obvious she wasn’t the only one feeling the crash from euphoria to reality. “I’m sorry.”



“What’re you sorry for?” Melody asked, still dazed.



“I was too rough.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and used his hold on her waist to pull her tighter against him. “I think I’m an asshole.”



“Nah,” she said, unable to resist grinning. “I liked it. With you, rough works.”



“Does it?” he asked, his voice gruff with sex but still hesitant.



“Sure does.” Melody’s smile grew broader at the realization. “Everything works with you. It’s like magic. You make me feel normal, and I love you for it.”



Clay was quiet for a long moment before he whispered, “Ditto. Love you too, Mel.”



Melody let herself soak it all in, wanting every aspect of this moment committed to memory, even the sticky aftereffects of sex and the dull sting between her legs. She let herself feel the ache in her feet and the knot in her back that came from having a six-five, two-hundred-and-sixty-pound heavyweight champion draped over her.