“Liar,” he growls. “You’ll feel me tomorrow. Every step, every breath—you’ll remember this cock inside you.”
He bites at my throat, then kisses the mark. Thrusts again. Harder. Deeper. My back lifts off the bed.
“You think I’m stopping now?” he rasps. “You think I’m done with this pussy?”
I try to answer, but all I can do is moan.
“I’m gonna fuck you again, Melody,” he whispers, rocking into me. “And again. And again. Until you stop pretending it’s not what you want.”
My legs wrap tighter around him. He moves inside me like he’s starving—like this is the only thing that’s ever mattered.
Each stroke is rougher now. Deeper. His rhythm building with a hunger I can feel in my bones. He drags almost all the way out, then drives back in hard, stealing the air from my lungs.
I gasp, nails digging into his back as the pressure builds, slow and steady. It’s molten. Alive. Winding tighter with every thrust.
“Fuck, you feel unreal,” he grits out, jaw clenched. “This pussy was made for me.”
The words make my body clench, and he feels it.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “There she is. You’re gonna come, aren’t you? Just like this. Wrapped around my cock. Falling apart for me.”
His mouth crashes to mine—hot, hungry, devouring—and I melt into it, every part of me unraveling beneath him.
“You close?” he pants against my lips.
I nod, barely holding on. “Yes,” I whisper, voice breaking.
“Let go for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock, Melody. Let me feel you break.”
He slams into me harder, faster. His rhythm loses all patience. It's raw now. Powerful. Desperate. Like he’s been waiting years for this.
My body hits the edge and topples over.
I come with a cry that rips from my throat, everything going white as I clench hard around him, wave after wave crashing through me.
“Fuck—Melody—” he groans, pulling out just in time. His hand wraps around his cock, pumping once, twice—and then he comes, hot and thick across my stomach, his whole body shaking with it.
His mouth crashes into mine at the same time, swallowing my whimpers, growling into the kiss like he’s branded me from the inside out.
We’re both still panting.
His forehead rests against mine, lips brushing, not quite kissing, just breathing me in. His hand still cupping my thigh, his body heavy and warm above me.
Everything’s quiet now except the storm still rolling in the distance, the men outside, and the sound of my lungs trying to remember what normal feels like.
Jace pulls back just enough to look down. His eyes land on the mess he left across my stomach – hot, sticky proof of what just happened. Of what we just did. His lips twist in a smirk, satisfied and dark.
“You scratched that itch?” I murmur, blinking up at the ceiling now, not him. “You can go back to the other girls.”
He stills, smile fading like I slapped him.
I feel his fingers, soft under my chin, tilting my face back to him.
His brows are furrowed, his mouth tight. He searches my eyes for something.
“Is that really what you think of me?” he asks, voice low.
When I don’t answer, he leans in closer.
