Wreck the Halls: A Novel

They crashed into the tiny attic room like tangled wrecking balls.

Melody’s blood had never been so hot that she could feel it, the elevated temperature of it, flowing through her veins. Her throat hurt from singing at the top of her lungs, something she’d never attempted in her life, but Beat’s mouth on hers was the perfect cure. She had no idea where these stolen moments in the starlight would lead, but just then, she didn’t care.

She was cocky.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

If she could imply her mother was a coward—to her face—and belt out a Steel Birds song in a room full of people, she could handle a potential broken heart. In fact, bring it on. Bring it all on. She was immortal tonight and she scorned the concept of regret or pain.

How could a single negative thing exist on this earth at the same time as his mouth? It was the perfect combination of reverent and aggressive, his adventurous tongue banishing any possibility of stopping. Or thinking. Or breathing. She opened her lips wide for him, their heads canting to their respective rights in tandem, like they were built for each other. To kiss this wildly in this house in the middle of nowhere, to taste each other without a hint of reservation or insecurity. The only thing present between them was feverish want and deep recognition of two souls that had been separated too long. Maybe not good for each other, but created as a pair for better or worse.

Melody’s fingers plowed through Beat’s hair, scrubbed down his flexing back, and came around the front to his belt, unbuckling it, using her thumb to free the top button.

Her hand hovered an inch from the thick jut of his erection, but didn’t touch.

Two seconds passed. Three.

His breath coasted over her damp lips. “Kept it hard, like you asked me to.”

A moan broke from deep in her throat. Those whispered words twisted hot in her center, liquid warmth making itself known between her thighs. She could feel it happening. The arousal of her body, her flesh going pliant everywhere. Everywhere. Intimacy with Beat was her only aphrodisiac and he was radiating the need for it, too. They were in too deep, but they were in it together so stopping was impossible. Togetherness was too good and right.

“What am I going to do with it?” she said, rubbing their wet lips together.

“Anything you goddamn want, Peach.”

Was it normal to feel one’s pupils expand? “Mmm.” She traced the thick line of him with her index finger and watched his eyes go blind, a notch catching and locking in his throat. He needed to be touched, but he needed to not be touched even more, at least right now. Somehow, she knew. And she gave by withholding friction, leaving him panting while she went to unbutton his dress shirt instead, undoing the buttons from throat to belly. Their mouths devoured, his exploring hers desperately from above, never stopping, not even when she pushed the garment from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground, followed by his battery pack and microphone. Thank God they’d turned off the mics before coming up the stairs or America would be listening to groans and sighs and shifting clothing that only meant one thing.

Melody’s shirt came off next, their hands colliding to unfasten the front snap of her bra, dislodging the mic while yanking the lingerie down her arms, leaving her breasts free. “I’ve wanted to get you out of these fucking jeans since you walked out of my guest room this morning,” he rasped, attacking the side of her neck with kisses, rough licks of his tongue. “I can still feel the seam of them on my dick from the lap dance you gave me earlier. Can feel you riding me, working me until I’m stiff.” He nipped at her mouth. “You’ve been arrested in those jeans. You sang ‘Rattle the Cage’ in them like you’d been saving it up your whole life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see you in these jeans again without feeling like I’m dying. Or living for the first time. I can’t tell.” His hands smoothed up the valleys of her sides and closed over her breasts, kneading, thumbing her nipples with the pads of his thumbs. “But right now, I want those jeans off.” Slowly, he backed her toward the wall, just to the right of the giant, circular window, and dropped to his knees, his tongue leaving a shiny path from throat to belly button. “I want them off so I can give you some good fucking head.”

He wasn’t gentle about unfastening her jeans. The button was barely free when he wrestled with the zipper and began dragging the denim down her thighs, past her knees, to her ankles. When she kicked them off, he caught her right leg in midair and held her open, his breath hot against the front of her panties.

“Mel.” He grazed her belly button with his teeth, then took a soft, full bite of her hip, shooting torpedoes of sensation all the way to her toes. Pulses she couldn’t name started to pound. His tongue rode along the skin just above her waistband, hip to hip, his eyes heavy with lust and trained on her. And slowly, slowly, he peeled her panties down to her feet, a ripple passing through his shoulders when he bared her sex. “You should know that I want to get my cock so deep between your legs, it becomes your entire world while it’s there.” In keeping with Beat’s words—his warning?—something animalistic flickered in the depths of his blue eyes that caused a flutter in Melody’s throat, a long, anticipatory tightening in her core. “And I might stop right at my edge, but I don’t hold back getting there.”

“I’m ready for anything with you.”

Her trust relaxed the line between his brows, his lips kissing a path from her belly button to the top of her slit. His breath heated her there for long seconds, moistening her flesh, his demeanor reminiscent of someone in prayer. And then he transformed right into a sinner, forming a V with his middle and index fingers to gently push apart her flesh. His tongue lapped once at her exposed center, and then brought it back into his mouth to savor her flavor with a groan, before he leaned in again with triple the eagerness. He made sounds in his throat while he delved his tongue into the valley of her sex again, again, again, his tongue meeting her clit with more firmness with every journey until it simply stayed there and rubbed, rubbed, rubbed. His blue eyes were trained on her face, glittering, as his thumbs dug into her hip abductors. And her thighs were a blur of trembling already, from the view, from the experience, yes, but the friction. It was raw and personal and he was visibly enjoying it. So much that he looked intoxicated, his shaft bulging through the opening of his dress pants, stretching his briefs, the proof of his own hunger drawing her deeper, deeper into her own enjoyment.

He delivered her oral pleasure like it was an honor, like he wouldn’t survive without the next twist of his tongue against her entrance, the firm circling of her swelling nub.

I’m so wet.

Which he apparently loved, because he seemed to want that offering all over his chin, his mouth. He buried his face against her and turned it side to side, collecting her, pushing his tongue upward once again into the separation of her sex. Fucking her with his tongue, pressing it into her body while the V of his fingers spread her, giving him more access. And once he got it, those fingers took turns with his tongue, pumping inside of her, which was when it all came crashing down. She’d been so distracted by the overtly carnal side of Beat, so determined to memorize it, that she didn’t acknowledge the gathering of her own release until it was on the verge of liberating her. It blew through her now with a vengeance, her right leg shooting up to wrap around the back of his head, her hips tilting, babble bubbling from her lips while those intimate muscles flexed and throbbed and set her free of tension.

Some of it.

Even with the exhilarating rush of her climax still cutting through her middle, holding her shaking legs captive, she felt her own hunger crest again, because Beat swiped a forearm across his shining mouth and then looked right at her while licking it off again. And her head swam, her nipples beading, the lowest part of her belly growing heavy with desire once more. With responsibility and anticipation and something more magical . . .

An electrical connection to this man that moved their bodies in unrehearsed choreography. Beat lunged to his feet, as if he sensed that she needed kissing, grounding, and he gave it to her, urging her lips open with his tongue and sharing the taste of her in a way that was unabashed, almost prideful. But she didn’t require any reminder of the pleasure he’d just given her, because she could think of nothing else. Her right hand moved without a command from her brain, sliding beneath the waistband of his briefs, wanting, needing, to reciprocate.

“Ahhh, that’s good, Peach. Grip it as hard as you can.” His breath pelted her mouth, his thickly muscled chest lifting and falling. “I like when it hurts.”

Melody followed her instinct, stroking him lightly, slowly, once, twice, three times, watching his teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut, holding his breath. Then she tightened her hold and listened to his guttural grunt, looking down and watching him try to thrust into her hand, hips pumping upward. And she used that hard clutch of his shaft to turn their bodies and firmly press him up against the wall, watching in awe as his Adam’s apple got stuck beneath his chin. His hands lifted, fisted his own hair, like he couldn’t withstand the torture of being stroked by her. Combined with the immortality she’d earned downstairs, she’d never felt more formidable in her life. It inebriated her.

“I want you inside me.” She elevated onto her toes and kissed his panting mouth, riding her palm up and down his inches at the same meandering pace, over and over until she felt a touch of sticky moisture on her knuckles, a gruff rendition of her name punctuating the air. “Make it happen.”

*  *  *

Melody’s command was still on her lips when Beat’s back slid down the wall.

Never breaking eye contact with her—he wasn’t even sure it was physically possible—he drew the elastic of his briefs down, leaving it beneath his balls. He offered her his lap, because she’d requested it. Even though being inside of Melody terrified him as much as it felt like an inevitability he couldn’t live without. Couldn’t fucking breathe without.

Jesus Christ.

It was dark in the room, except for the starlight casting her naked body in an ethereal glow, her pussy damp from his tongue, her gaze determined, but glazed. She was an angel drunk on the effect she had on him. An effect that was almost too pure and poignant to withstand as she got down on her knees in front of him—so beautiful that he held his breath—and climbed onto his lap, their foreheads meeting, eyes locking.

“Tell me when you’re close and I’ll stop,” she whispered.

Gratitude swam in his chest. Lower, there was nothing but the thick bite of lust. “Tell me when you’re close and I’ll go harder.”

She moaned right into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, sipping kisses from her lips while reaching down, bringing his cock between her thighs. He rubbed it up and back through the ample moisture, swelling more, more, until he worried he could come from that preliminary torture alone.

“You ready for it?”

“Yes.”

“Lift up. Good girl. Now come back down—” His breath hissed out as she accepted the tip of him, her hips shifting side to side until she took more. “Oh shit. Oh God.”

“Beat.”

His balls drew up painfully. “Don’t whine like that. I’m going to come.”

“Beat.”

“Don’t move. Please, please, baby, stay still while I wrap my head around you. Jesus.” Fully inside of her now and reeling over her snug, wet warmth, he gathered her close, burying his face into her neck, seeing nothing in the room, oblivious to anything but his sense of touch. Feel. Melody. “Were you made for me? Is that what this is?”

Her hips undulated slowly. “You feel perfect for me, too.”

He moaned, sparks blinking in front of his eyes. “Baby, don’t start yet.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Fuck.”

His hands raked down her back, caught her ass in his hands and ordered his body to remain just like this. Hard. Primed for her, ready for her use, but refusing to accept his own relief. He loved this, loved being the key to pleasure. Loved her getting the prize, while he was denied. Denial was the only thing that could fulfill him sexually, as far back as he could remember, but there would be no comparison to this. Sacrificing his own release for Melody. He’d only been inside of her a matter of seconds and the sex was fucking unparalleled, because he could feel it in his being. His heart, his bones, his blood. Christ, everywhere.

Was Melody the ultimate high he’d been chasing without realizing it?

His body told him yes, as she started to move. Or was he moving her? It was impossible to know who started the motion, whether it was the rock of her hips or the urgency of his hands on her ass cheeks. But once they were moving, the pace was immediately frantic. Her teeth sank into the side of his neck, deep enough to draw blood, and need became a welcome plague in his gut, the sound of her damp pussy accepting him again, again, again making him too horny to sit still, so he slid backward to plant his elbows on the ground, giving himself the leverage required to fuck her from below.

“Tell me how it feels,” he growled.

“It’s too good,” she cried out into his neck. “It’s too perfect. I can’t stand it.”

“I know. Jesus, Mel. Jesus.”

He didn’t know everything about Melody’s sexual likes and dislikes yet. He would, though. For now, he just wanted to thank God. He wasn’t a religious man, but he’d been a good enough person to earn this privilege. She’d confided in him about holding herself back from other partners in the past, but not with him. No. She trusted him enough to let go. He could practically feel her bestowing that honor on him, his body responding in kind.

“You let go with me,” he breathed, letting go of her backside to cup the back of her neck, his hips lifting into her with vigorous slaps, her thighs trembling more with every upward punch. “Let go with me.”

She made this whimpering sound that almost caused him to spill and tightened her thighs around his hips, her pace increasing to a gallop. Every time she took him balls deep, Beat swore he felt it in an undiscovered region of his stomach.

“I’m close,” she said hoarsely.

His eyes rolled back into his head, his fingers curling into fists. “Go get it, Melody. Fuck me. Make me hurt. Then take it all away, before I get there, baby, please.” His nails dug into his palms until they broke the skin. “Goddamn, you’ve got me so stiff.”

Melody’s tongue was hot and magical on his neck and he allowed himself to pretend that she required his taste in order to orgasm. It burned him alive with hunger, his hands molding to her ass again and yanking her up and back, his cock growing harder, reaching for that free fall of relief he wouldn’t let himself take. And suddenly, her thighs jerked and she screamed into his shoulder, moisture pooling where their bodies joined and he couldn’t help it. His heart demanded he delve his fingers into her hair and lift her head, so he could watch her eyes while she plummeted to earth.

He would well and truly never be the same again.

The axis of his world tilted, changed directions, desperation clawing even deeper into his being. This wasn’t sex for the sake of lust, but a requirement to get as close to this woman as humanly possible. Before he could register his own actions, he was coming to his feet with Melody still impaled on his shaft and throwing her down onto the mattress, coming down on top of her and fucking her for broke.

“I was right. Pulling out of you is going to be pure hell. God, it’s so wet.”

Panic set in as the hedonism inside of him, inside of them both, ran wild. Oh God. He wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t stop. Not with her so smooth beneath him, their eyes fastened together, flesh slapping sharply with every thrust. But he should have known to trust Melody to give him exactly what he was craving. She waited until his teeth were drawing blood from his bottom lip, his abdomen hollowing in warning and she leaned up, whispering, “Stop,” against his mouth, her nails raking down his back, burying in the flesh of his ass. “Don’t. Move.”

Beat dropped his open mouth into the curve of her neck just in time to catch his hoarse groan. He shook so hard with the need to come that he had to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering. His toes twisted in the mattress, his balls in his fucking stomach. He wasn’t going to make it out of this alive and while it was torture, it was also paradise. “Yes. Please,” he grunted, mentally commanding himself not to grind, not to pump. “Make me work for it. Make me work for you.”

“Wouldn’t it feel so good to keep going?” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes,” he growled through his teeth.

She constricted around him. “Too bad.”

Pain was beginning to wrap around the base of his spine. “Please. Oh fuck, you’re so tight. Squeezing me.”

“You can ride me a little longer, but don’t come.”

The words were barely out of her mouth and Beat was bearing down on her, gripping her knees and pinning them up near her shoulders, his hips pistoning, sweat pouring down his spine, the sides of his face. He only managed about ten seconds before he felt the climax zippering his balls together, tightening, tightening. You have to stop.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so ruined for this pussy.”

“Keep going.”

“No. No, it’s going to be over. You fuck so hot.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“Mel. Mel.”

No. Your life has enough rewards. You don’t get this, too.

He barely managed to pull out of her in time. The orgasm was like a bomb going off, pulling every tendon and muscle in his body into a taut, vibrating line. He rolled off Melody onto the mattress and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, muffling his roar, his opposite hand reaching down to help finish himself off, which was completely unnecessary as wave after wave after wave of bliss whipped through him, visions of her continuing to play in his head. Her tits bouncing, her mouth parting on whimpers, her knees in his hands. Ohhh God, it went on forever, his loins locking and releasing until his entire body went slack, heart continuing to sprint in his chest.

Bar none, the most incredible sex of his life. Nothing had ever and would ever compare. Not only was he relieved physically, but mentally. Soulfully. He’d lost consciousness and woken up in a land where nothing bad happened.

That’s how he felt at first, anyway. In those initial moments of afterglow, he marveled over the way they’d fulfilled each other perfectly on the first try.

Until that glow started to fade and he realized . . . he wished, for once, that he was capable of sharing even more. Everything, including that final moment he’d never shared with anyone else. “Hey.” With an oddly panicked feeling swamping his sternum, he turned on his side and reached for her. “Come here.” Beat wrapped his arms around Melody, drew her up against his chest, and encompassed her in a bear hug, planting kisses all over her face, neck, and shoulders. “My peach.”

With a hesitant smile, she allowed Beat to arrange her arms around his torso, her head tucked beneath his chin, his embrace a crushing death grip.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he chanted, even though it wasn’t enough.

But the next morning, he realized he didn’t have her.

Not at all.