Melt Page 6

  “Keep doing it.” I plant my hands on his chest, tilting my head to the ceiling and taking control.

  “That’s it, ride me, Samantha.” His voice is a prayer, a command.

  I follow instructions at my own rhythm, working everything out on him, taking my pleasure without asking a thing. My legs shake, my hands grip the sexy hair running down Jake’s happy trail, and I keep moving myself up and down on him, his hardness hitting every single spot that makes me see stars. My toes curl, and the heat licking down my spine has me chasing that ever elusive combustion.

  All of a sudden, my breasts are smashing into his chest, my chin fitting right down in the crook of his neck. I’m trapped, unable to move.

  “What …”

  “Feel the way I have the control now?” One hand bound my wrists behind my back, tight enough to where I couldn’t break free, but loose enough to know he was playing a sexy little game.

  I’d never been much into anything kinky, I’d only ever slept with one person before Derek and everything had been … well, vanilla.

  In just a matter of seconds, I’d learned that there was nothing vanilla about Jake Brady.

  “Let me move you, Samantha.” His other hand, strong and firm, gripped my ass, the fingers tapping on my right butt cheek as he moved my hip for me.

  I could barely speak I was so turned on, the struggle of letting him have control and fighting for every tiny sliver of sensation was making my heart pound out of my chest. His hand locked around my wrists, my entire body flush against him, submitting to the will of his hands.

  “Yes … please …” My words were nonsensical, the way he’d taken over everything swamping me with a hazy lust.

  “You’re going to come again? Let me feel it, because you’re about to make me come …” His jaw tics as my body grinds on top of him.

  Who had the control now?

  His declaration makes me sprint over that cliff again, my orgasm slamming into me. My limbs go rigid and then lax with wild abandon, every ounce of ecstasy washing over me.

  “Right there …” Jake bucks up into me, his movements making my pleasure go on and on and on.

  He lets out a feral growl, his hold on my ass gripping tighter while he hurls my body down onto him, holding it while his muscles tense and contract, and then repeating the motion. My vision feels hazy as I tilt my head to watch him, the gorgeous, Adonis-like quality of him making my heart pound a little harder.

  Heaving a sigh as I burrow more into his chest, I let the aftershocks of a second glorious orgasm wrack my body. Jake’s arms come around me, his cheek pressed to the crown of my head.

  We stay like that for a long time, until sleep steals over my consciousness. And I drift peacefully, thinking that I got what I truly needed, and perhaps something I wasn’t looking for.

  Eleven

  Samantha

  Stevie Wonder’s “Living for the City” fill the air as I stretch my arms over my head.

  Which is pounding. I blink open an eye, the light of day instantly zapping my retina and making me want to climb into whatever blanket cocoon I can manage. Don’t believe anyone when they tell you that you can drink the same amount you once did in college … because this side of a hangover at twenty-seven feels like I got run over by a dump truck.

  “Oh, good morning, sunshine.”

  The end of the bed suddenly becomes heavy, and everything that happened last night comes rushing back at me. Jake, the bar, too many glasses of wine, sex. Great sex, orgasm-inducing sex. I stretch my legs out, remembering the post-ache of great sex that I haven’t felt in far too long.

  “Are you one of those dreaded morning people?” I don’t peek my eyes out for fear of the sun.

  Strong hands grip my legs under the blanket, and a flash of his hands on me last night has my body tingling even in its tired state.

  “You know it. I got in a run around the monuments this morning and then came back to make you breakfast. You can thank me later.” Jake’s cheery voice invades my blanket fort, and I peek my head out.

  Sure enough, he sits on the edge of the bed in running shorts. And that’s it. Just running shorts.

  My tongue almost spills out of my mouth, because damn I guess I hadn’t been able to fully see him in the sex haze of last night. He was a gorgeous specimen, with long toned arms and a six-pack sprinkled with just the sexiest amount of hair. Beads of sweat still clung to his happy trail, and that was getting every part below my waist very happy again.

  And then my stomach growled.

  He chuckled. “Looks like I didn’t make that breakfast a second too soon. Come on, there’s bacon.”

  Sitting up, the sheets pooled around me and I am suddenly aware that I was naked. Very, very naked. “Um, do you have like …”

  I trailed off when his gaze seemed to linger on me, his green eyes turning molten emerald. Jake cleared his throat, his dimple coming out as he smirked. “Let me get you a T-shirt.”

  “I don’t have to stay …” We’d hooked up, this wasn’t a thing.

  At least I didn’t think it was. We’d had one bad date, an honest conversation about how he wasn’t looking to be a father and I wasn’t looking to supply Lennon with one, and then we’d done the horizontal hula. That didn’t mean he had to make me eggs.

  “I want you to stay.” His simple sentence was said with a shrug.

  That adorable look on his face, paired with a body I could, and had, licked from head to toe, weakens my resolve.

  “I know what was said last night but … I want to spend time with you, Samantha. I don’t want to just screw each other’s brains out and then high five when you walk out the door. Although, that sounds really nice. But, no, I do want more. And that may be more than you were looking for when you booty-dragged me out of that bar, and we don’t know each other that well, but I like you. We can go slow, see where this goes.”

  He was right, I wasn’t looking for a hookup buddy. To be honest, I barely had time to paint my nails, much less meet someone for casual sex. I also didn’t really have time to date, but there was a spark between us that I hadn’t found in a long time. Some unspoken thing that we just had, and I had to admit that when he’d asked me out the first time, I knew instantly that I’d explore it.

  “I think I can do that. That is … if you made the eggs sunny side up.” I got out of the bed in all my naked glory.

  His eyes fell down my body, which wasn’t perfect, but was still okay in my eyes. I had stretch marks on my boobs and a faded C-section scar from where they’d taken Lennon out. My legs were toned from chasing around a three-year-old, and I thanked good genes for my thick hair and slim arms.

  Self-consciously, I put my hands over the scar at the bottom of my stomach.

  “Don’t do that, you’re beautiful. Honestly, I think it’s kind of sexy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, what are you, Mr. Perfect? Your sweetness is going to make me gag.”

  “Well, don’t go that far yet … because I scrambled the eggs.” He walks across the apartment to the kitchen, my eyes following his ass the entire time.

  I go to his dresser and grab a T-shirt for myself, my comfort level in his place surprising me. I follow him, my mouth salivating for a cup of coffee. And to my delight, a steaming mug is sitting on the small table near his counter space.

  “Ah, the nectar of the gods …” I dove straight for it, taking a huge gulp and feeling my system kick somewhat back into gear. “What time is it anyway?”

  Jake chuckles, loading two plates with breakfast food and bringing them over. “Coffee addict, huh? It’s about nine.”

  “You get up before nine on a weekend? Why? There is no one jumping in your bed, or begging you for donuts.” I fold my legs underneath me and revel in the newness of this.

  It feels comfortable but strange all at the same time, eating breakfast with a man who I’m just getting to know. Intimately. That makes me blush internally.

  “How do you know that I’m not jumping o
n my own bed, demanding donuts? Or that Bryan isn’t doing so?” He points his fork at the wall, indicating Bryan’s place just on the other side.

  The playlist switches to “Fire and Rain” by James Taylor, and I tap my foot to the classic song. “Touché. Pretty good playlist you have going there, Jake.”

  “I’m an ice cream and music connoisseur, what can I say?” He smiles around a forkful of eggs.

  “And so humble about it,” I tease him, finishing my coffee, and holding out the mug. “More please.”

  “Should I just bring you the pot?” His foot hits mine under the table, and a warming sizzle of Saturday morning bliss spreads over me.

  “That would probably be beneficial to all involved. Do you have to work today?” I wasn’t sure what kind of hours he kept.

  “I don’t, which is rare. There aren’t any major events this weekend, although I could probably make a good chunk of change if I parked the truck on the national lawn today. But I have to give myself some days off. I employ a few drivers who will make the rounds to the neighborhoods tonight, but I’m playing hooky on this beautiful Saturday. How about you, any plans?”

  I finish my plate and rest my elbows on the table, admiring the way the light makes his hair a dark golden color. “Lennon slept over my mom’s house, and I was actually supposed to go over there for breakfast.”

  “Oh shit, do you need to go?” His expression changes to one of guilt.

  I lay a hand over his, liking the way it feels under my palm. “Relax. If I needed to get somewhere, I would just go. I think you know by now that what you see is what you get with me, I’m not going to sugarcoat.”

  “And I particularly like that about you, you know.” Jake scoots closer, clearly abandoning our food.

  He wraps his arms around my waist, his T-shirt rising up past my hips. Fingers making circles on my skin, sending shockwaves of memories of last night through my system. Leaning in, I press my lips to his, basking in the sheer spontaneity of what was happening.

  “Do you think Jenna is over at Bryan’s?” The thought popped into my head and past my lips.

  Jake let out a loud laugh. “I made you breakfast and am trying to seduce you over it, and you’re thinking about your friend getting laid.”

  I had to crack up too. “Sorry, I was just wondering!”

  “We could go check if you want to? Although, I’ve walked in on my fair share of Bryan’s female friends, and now that I have my own place, I’d like to avoid that as much as possible. But for you, anything.”

  I scoot back into him. “Nah, let’s get back to that seduction over the breakfast table before I have to leave.”

  “I could even pull a Bull Durham and spill a gallon of milk if that would be sexy to you?”

  My giggle was swallowed by Jake’s mouth, and then there was no more laughing matter.

  Twelve

  Jake

  The sun peeked over the top of the Jefferson Memorial as my feet pounded the concrete of the Tidal Basin, early morning runners jogging in packs around the popular tourist trap.

  Except this early in the morning, six a.m. to be correct, it is still a place for the residents of this city. A quiet, treaty-like calmness falls over the two mile loop, all of the regulars who use this trail to exercise forming a pact not to disturb the peace.

  I've been running it for five years now, ever since I realized that if you don't work out after college and only drink beer, that you'll get a gut. It's a morning routine, one that gets me out of my head and also keeps me in shape. What no one told men was that they had a little anxiety attack when they turned thirty as well, it wasn't just women. I'd hit that milestone birthday and wanted to rewind time to when I was eighteen, hanging out in the local Applebee's parking lot trying to pick up girls.

  My phone beeped, and I slowed to a walk, coming to the end of my second loop, the sweat from the humid morning making my shirt cling to my back.

  Dad: I hope we can count on you to come home for the grand opening of the new dealership.

  Annoyance burns along with exhaustion in my veins, and I shove my phone back into the armband I wear. It dings again, the sound coming through my earbuds. If I just turn my music back on and plow through another loop, will they go away?

  Michael: Dad wants you to come up for the opening of the Utica dealership, and we all think it would be nice for you to be here.

  I want to tell my brother to fuck off, but it would only make them more annoyed. And it’s not like they understand anyway, they never have. My two brothers never left the family womb, going right into the family business after earning their associate’s degrees. My sister left briefly for college, and then she and her husband moved back, Hugh taking a position within the family fold. My stepmother did the books for the Buffalo dealership, and some of my cousins worked on the sales floor.

  They didn’t accept my decision to break out on my own, to try and make something for myself in a city that I loved and felt at home in. Even after I’d drawn up my business plan for Cones & Corks, and started to become really successful, they still treated my business like a hobby or something that was impermanent.

  My mom would understand if she were still alive. The thought wasn’t a new one, but it still stung as I headed down through the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial, smiling as a dog that someone was walking barked at the fake statue sitting next to our thirty-second president. Even though she’d died when I was ten, I remembered how she’d encouraged my dreams, all of the imaginations of a little boy lighting up her smile.

  Jake: Maybe, I have to see if I can secure drivers for that weekend. Summer is very busy for my business, as you know.

  I typed the answer back, walking the blocks towards my apartment and stopping for a large cup of Compass Coffee. While I was at it, I took my phone out again.

  Jake: Hope your morning is going well, beautiful.

  Staring at the screen, I will her to type back. I know she’s busy, but I’m not used to not being able to see a woman I’m, well, I guess courting was the word but it sounded so stiff. Samantha’s unattainableness kind of makes her more attractive to me, but it’s starting to become more frustrating than it is a game of mystery. We haven’t been able to see each other in a week and a half, not since she slept at my place. And rocked my fucking world.

  I’m jiggling the key in the lock of my apartment, my cock hardening thinking about plunging into her sweet folds on the chair in my kitchen, when she finally texts back.

  Samantha: Sorry, got oatmeal in my hair, had to wash it again before leaving.

  Jake: Why are you apologizing? How is the rugrat?

  Our interactions for the past ten days have consisted of text and picture messages, with a few funny memes thrown in. I especially like to send her Leslie Knope GIFs to tease her about her job. And I’ve been trying to ease into the subject of her daughter after our disastrous first date, and after basically telling her at McFlannery’s that I wasn’t looking for responsibility or fatherhood.

  Because … maybe I’d change my tune if it meant I could spend more time with her. I mean, I was good with kids, I knew how to handle them … kind of? Samantha was sexy and capable, a real woman, and I was thinking it was time for this bachelor to, excuse my language, shit or get off the pot. Spending that night with her, her soft, natural body under mine, flipped a switch in my brain. I had the business, I loved my city … but I needed more. I probably had for a while, but had been wasting my time with recent college graduates and girls who were nearly certifiable.

  Samantha: She’s good, babbling about baby dolls this morning and asking why their heads can pop off but not hers. The things that come out of that little girl’s mouth. How was your run?

  Jake: Tell her you could try, if she wants. Or that if she’s not good, Santa will pop her head off. Run was good, nice morning down by the monuments. You should join some time.

  Samantha: That’s not how the whole “behaving well for Christmas” threat works, but good thought.
Believe me, you don’t want company. The one and only time I tried to take Lennon on a run with me, she threw her juice box at a stranger walking past the stroller, and then tried to escape as I apologized profusely.

  Jake: HA! My kind of kid, person probably gave her a stink eye. So, do you think you’ll be able to get out for a date this week?

  Samantha: Depends, are you asking me out on a second date? I thought I scared you off the first time.

  Jake: I mean, if you wanted to get naked again, we could just do that. But I thought I’d actually treat you to dinner, since yes, I’d like to take you on a date.

  I started the shower, hoping she would agree. Thinking that the third time might be the charm, since our first date ended in tears and the “second” finished … well, inside her, I really wanted to show her just exactly what something between us could look like. I could sense, when I’d put her in a cab on the sidewalk of my building the morning after our sex session, that she wasn’t considering me a serious bet. And while I knew that this body and hair and dimple could make me seem like just another fuckboy—I was very humble—there was also substance behind this pretty face.

  Why now? Why this woman? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to fight it. I’d learned, from my family especially, that I couldn’t fight or fake something I wanted, or I’d be miserable in life.

  Samantha: I suppose I could ask for a prison furlough on Saturday night…

  Jake: Tell your warden I’ll buy her a lollipop. One of those big rainbow ones. And I’ll let her ride around in the ice cream truck.

  Samantha: You know that kind of makes you sound like the kind of strangers I tell her not to take candy from …

  Jake: Very funny. I’ll pick you up at seven?