CHAPTER 28: MELODY’S PLACE
Melody’s place turned out to be a crumbling brick building wedged onto a dead-end street overlooking the highway. The shredded chain link fence was festooned with trash and the vestiges of memorials to victims of…what, I wasn’t sure. Half of the streetlights were dark—burned out or shot out or both—and the front steps of the building were lively with a knot of homies watching cars creep up the street, stopping just long enough for an exchange of goods. Overhead, a blue police camera flashed, a silent witness, but the lone patrol car went past without stopping.
There was a chorus of whistles and raucous Spanish from the homies as Melody led me toward the gate. She unlocked it with a key and stepped through, but when I moved to follow, I found my path blocked by a wall of round-shouldered men sizing me up.
“Let him through,” Melody told them. “He’s with me.”
The homie sea parted, but their stares followed me even after I was inside the fence. This was their turf. I was a guest. For now.
The side door had three deadbolts and showed signs of having been kicked in more than once. The window beside it was covered with two security grates—one a diamond-shaped mesh and the other a grid of iron bars. The window behind them was still broken. Someone had covered the crack with packing tape so old it had long since turned yellow.
The stairs leading up to the top floor were wooden and painted battleship gray in a thousand dripping coats. Patches on the walls showed places where graffiti had been painted over. Every landing was cluttered with discarded toys and broken bicycles.
Melody’s apartment was on the fourth floor in the back of the building. The door was scarred wood and even after unlocking all the locks she had to put a shoulder to it to get it to open with a sharp wooden shriek, but when she flipped on the light, I saw that the apartment inside was cozy and clean. The front door opened directly into a little girl’s room, painted a bumblebee shade of yellow. A child size bed was tucked into a corner beside a mismatched dresser and both were covered with teddy-bears that looked like they might once have come with roses, chocolate, or lingerie.
Melody dropped her keys onto a bookshelf by the door and kicked it shut before turning to press her body against mine.
“I want you now,” I managed, my voice thick.
“Not in here.” Melody was firm. She pushed my hands away and stooped to pick up a pair of little girl underoos and toss them into a laundry hamper. Then she glided across the hardwood floor toward the back of the apartment, pausing in the doorway to see if I was watching.
I followed Melody to her room which was filled from wall-to-wall with a queen-sized mattress. Every other surface was covered with clothes: clean and dirty, dancewear and streetwear. With the snap of a lighter, Melody touched a flame to the wick of the candles staged on a shelf over the bed. She glanced at me over her shoulder and shed her dress into one of the heaps. She unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor and then crawled into the bed with her shoes still on. I sat down beside her on the mattress and she leaned back on her elbows and put her feet on my lap, demanding without words that I unbuckle them for her.
I fumbled with the straps and succeeded in getting one of them off. I set it on the floor and gently massaged the arch of her bare foot with both hands. Melody gave a sigh through her nose and let her head fall back, luxuriating in the feel of it. In the cool air of the room, her nipples were tightened into firm buds at the crests of her breasts. I didn’t bother to hide that I was staring as I kneaded the muscle and bone of her foot, watching her toes curl and uncurl with pleasure. Then I kissed the top of her foot as I fumbled with the other shoe.
Melody pushed herself upright and swung her legs around my back until she straddled me. Reaching around my waist, she undid the buckle of my belt and pulled it out of the belt loops, coiling it around one hand to set it on the chest of drawers, then snapped her fingers at me to unlace my boots.
I felt the weight of her body settle against the bare skin of my back as I bent forward to untangle the laces. I could feel her head resting against the back of my neck and a fingertip tracing the curved patterns of the tattoos across my shoulders.
I kicked off my boots and socks as Melody’s hands slipped around my waist to unbutton the front of my jeans. I stood long enough to shed the rest of my clothes and then turned to stand in front of her. She reclined on the bed, naked except for a thong. I started to move toward her and she held me back with the toe of one foot.
“I want to look at you,” she said in a low murmur.
I couldn’t imagine why. I was suddenly aware of how I must look: sweaty, bruised and disheveled. And the room was cold. I moved to cover myself, embarrassed.
“Don’t.” Melody’s tone was sharp even though her voice was quiet.
“I stink,” I muttered.
“Look at me.”
I forced my eyes to meet hers. Her eyes were shadowed beneath her long eyelashes by the flickering light from the candles.
“Get on your knees.”
I stared at her, uncertain if she was serious. She just waited and watched me—watching to see if I would do it or not.
“And if I don’t?”
Melody shrugged. “Leave then. I won’t stop you.”
I got on my knees feeling like an idiot. Melody stood. She wasn’t tall. Kneeling, as I was, my head was level with her collar bone. She circled me, stroking her fingers over my shoulders, tracing down the tattoos on my chest. I watched her hand, mesmerized. Everywhere she touched grew warm. She drew her fingers up my throat, fingernail scraping against my Adam’s apple. I resisted the urge to clear my throat.
She caressed my cheek with one soft palm, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine—unbelievably soft, unbelievably warm. Her tongue invaded my mouth. I reached for her, but Melody caught my wrists and dug in her nails.
“No, no hands.” She could touch me, but I couldn’t touch her. I held up my hands in surrender and she released my wrists.
Melody settled back onto the edge of the bed. She reached out one foot and rested it on my shoulder. I nuzzled it with my cheek and she didn’t stop me. Cheek was good. Hands were bad. She spread her legs for me.
“Kiss me. Here.” She reached down with one hand and parted the lips of her sex to reveal the tempting nub of her clitoris. I shuffled forward on my knees and flicked it with the tip of my tongue, just once, and she shuddered with pleasure. Tongue was good. Hands were bad. I kissed my way down her neck, her collarbone, the plain of her chest, lingering on her breasts then across the smooth hollow of her belly to the mound of her sex. I glanced up at her to see if she was watching. She was. She propped herself up on her elbows as I slowly sank below her horizon.
I heard her gasp when my lips made the first contact with her pussy. I flicked at her with my tongue, just a taste, and then I plunged deeper inside her, feeling her body go taut, hearing her moan in a low, wild sound. Her fingers traced through my hair, gripping the back of my head.
I kissed the inside of one thigh and then the other and then pressed my lips against the delicate folds of her pussy. I felt her writhe as she threw her head back and moaned. With her free hand, she cupped a breast and rolled the nipple between her fingers, lost in her own pleasure.
It didn’t take long; she was already close. I could hear her climax before I could feel it. It began low like the horn of a distant train and became a scream of ecstasy as her legs spasmed and clamped around my head.
When she at last released me, I sat back on my haunches, gasping for breath. My back and neck ached and my cheeks were smeared with her juices. The smell of her filled my senses. Melody lay spent on the bed, breathing heavily. Her head lolled against the blankets in the wild corona of her hair spread out around her.
“S’amazing…” she murmured. “Come up on the bed.” She tugged me toward her.
I crawled up onto the bed and she shoved me against the wall, partly upright, and straddled my lap. I reached for her again, but forced myself to stop short of touching her. It took all my will; my body ached for her. I was pretty sure my erection could’ve drilled through cinderblock.
“Can I use my hands now?” I begged.
“You’re not in charge here,” she said. “You understand?”
I nodded reluctantly. Melody smiled.
“Put out your hands.” She held out her own hands, palm up to show me. I followed her lead, unsure what it was she had in mind. Reaching up onto the shelf, Melody picked up a pair of candles and pressed one into each palm.
“Don’t let go,” she said.
Hot wax dripped onto the fingers of my right hand and I seethed at the pain, but didn’t dare let go: there was playing with fire, and then there was playing with fire.
Reaching into the top drawer of the dresser she extracted a condom and tore open the package. For a minute she just held it up between us as if it were some kind of communion wafer and she was preparing to bless me with it.
“This is what you want?” Both a question and an answer.
She put the condom between her lips and bent her head to roll it on me with her lips and tongue. No hands. I gasped at the sensations she sent through me. Another stream of wax burned across my fingers and I struggled to keep the candles steady as the combination of the pain and pleasure short-circuited my brain.
Melody raised her head and eased her hips forward and with torturous slowness began to sink down on the length of my cock, consuming me inch by inch. I felt myself getting lightheaded. She began to ride languidly, taking her time with each stroke. She slid her hand around the sides of my neck and tangled her fingers in my hair. Once again, she pressed her lips to mine, breathing life back into my dying body. I groaned. Her rhythm was too slow: I wasn’t going to be able to cum like this and she knew it: it was just another way to torment me.
Melody pulled her lips away, still pressing her body against my chest. I could feel her nipples brush against my skin. “Please what?”
Melody waited to see if I would beg her. When I didn’t, she slid herself upwards with excruciating slowness until she broke contact. I gasped at the sudden loss of sensation.
“Don’t leave me like this,” I begged.
I swallowed hard, close to tears again. Why did she have such power over me?
“Beg me to fuck you.”
“Fuck me, please—”
“You belong to me,” she said. “Don’t speak. Just nod.”
I nodded feeling my arms begin to sag. Dizziness overtook me as she once again penetrated herself and began to ride: harder now, and faster. Each stroke sent a new rivulet of wax over my fingers, but I couldn’t feel the burn anymore.
“Now!” Melody cried as she suddenly clenched in her own orgasm. I came hard, feeling the sensation flood me from head to foot more intense than I’d ever felt before. Once again, I was drowning in the strange dark music she called up from somewhere deep inside me and all I could do was let it wash over me.
I came back to my senses in bits and pieces as Melody climbed off me. One by one she blew out the candles and pried them out of my listless fingers: the hardened wax tore at my raw skin. I let my arms drop onto the bed and slumped over in a heap. Melody snuggled her body up against mine and pulled one of my arms over her, pressing my hand against her belly.
My fingers throbbed with burns and my whole body ached. We were playing a dangerous game. Melody had left her mark on me, and I loved it. I sank into sleep, letting the last echoes of her music decay across the landscape of my darkening consciousness. It was close as I was ever likely to come to a happily ever.
I hoped I’d never wake up.
New chapters released every week. Come back and read the FINAL chapter absolutely FREE!!
CHAPTER 29: SUPERSEDURE will go live Monday, January 10th, 2022
Don’t want to wait? Purchase a copy of the full book here: www.amazon.com