Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“I wanna fuck your thighs,” I growl into her ear as I work open my jeans and push them down far enough to pull out my cock. I’m already half-hard, and a few good tugs do the rest of the job.
Melody’s pupils are blown wide with lust, her eyes locked on what I’m doing, but she hesitates. “What do I do?”
“Here.” Mad Dog gives her a quick kiss before helping her to pull her jeans down to just above her knees. He spins her away from me. “Bend over, honey.”
She whimpers, but obeys. The view is fucking incredible. Her pussy peeks out from between soft thighs, begging me to touch. I suck a finger into my mouth and then slick it through her folds. She’s already soaking wet. Perfect.
Melody gasps and nearly topples over, but Mad Dog is there to catch her before I grab her by the hips and pull her closer. I slide down so I can lean back a little more as I lower her onto my cock, legs tight together. It’s an awkward position, but hot as fuck. The feeling of my dick pushing between her thighs combined with the wet heat of her slick pussy makes the squeeze so much better.
“Oooh!” Her breath catches as the head of my cock brushes her clit and breaks through the top of her thighs.
Mad Dog cups the front of his jeans, watching. Waiting.
I hold her by the hips and slowly start to thrust. “Play with yourself,” I whisper. “I wanna feel you grind on my cock and come all over me.”
Melody nods. She reaches one hand back and grabs my shoulder to brace herself while her other hand slips between her legs. Every thrust is a combination of tight, wet thighs, the intense heat of her pussy, and the brush of her fingers as she works her clit. We’re connected but not, using each other in a frantic race to the finish.
“I want…” Melody looks up at Mad Dog.
“What, baby?” he asks, already opening his jeans. “Do you want a taste?”
Her eyes drop to his hands as he pulls himself free, right in front of her. She nods.
Mad Dog spits in his hand and strokes his cock, bringing it to her lips. “That’s right, good girl,” he groans as she opens and he gives her the head to suck on while he jerks off.
It goes too fucking fast. The sight of her sucking his cock while my dick’s buried between her thighs and she’s bouncing in my fucking lap is a deadly combo. “I’m gonna fucking come,” I bite out, holding on for just a few more seconds working her hips faster.
Melody whines, mouth full of cock.
My balls pull tight and I come just as her ass hits my legs. Cum splashes over her shirt and slides down her hand and all over the two of us. Already slick, everything gets twice as messy, and the extra lubrication from my still-twitching cock is enough to help her over the edge.
“Oooh, ooh shit,” she pants. “I—shit—” Her back arches, and I hold her tight to me as she shakes apart.
“Look at you, so fucking beautiful.”
Mad Dog groans. He takes her chin, and she opens her mouth for him. It’s over quick. He comes on her tongue, swearing like a fucking sailor and slumping forward, hand on the back of the couch next to me.
Melody licks her lips and lets out a raspy laugh. “That was…”
“Incoming!” Riptide calls. “Heads up. Or down. Or whatever. Away maybe.”
“Shit, next time we need our own fucking room,” I grumble. “I want to fucking bask in the motherfucking afterglow for ten goddamned seconds. Is that too much to ask?”
Melody bursts into laughter. “I have a suggestion.”
Mad Dog buckles his belt. “What’s that?”
“Do you think we could do a little road trip? I could really use some more clothes if I’m going to be here for a few days, and I do have a whole house to myself.”
12
MELODY
Riding with Mad Dog and the others isn’t anything like it was with Red. With Red, I didn’t know him. It was awkward the whole way, with him annoyed at the drive, and me trying to pretend sitting behind him wasn’t intimate at all. The only good part was not having to come up with anything to talk about. Riding with someone I like is very different. I can wrap my arms around his chest, lean into him, and actually enjoy the experience.
When we reach the freeway and he really opens the throttle, it feels like flying. I rest my cheek against his leather jacket and watch the landscape rush by. First the city, then miles and miles of farmland, with the red hills in the distance. Rebel is to our right, and Riptide is ahead. The three of them are totally in sync, even though I haven’t seen any signs of them communicating aside from the occasional hand movement or flick of fingers.