Chapter 5

5

MELODY

L iving in Malcolm's mansion for over a week now feels like stepping into a dream, one I'm afraid to wake up from.

He showers me with attention, ensuring every need and desire is met. Every meal is shared, every comfort provided, and yet, there's a chasm between us that I can't ignore.

Our connection is undeniable, a fiery tension that hangs in the air whenever we're in the same room. But he hasn't taken our relationship to the next level, despite the alluring chemistry that ignites whenever we're close.

I've tried to push my impatience aside, to be grateful for all he's given me, but a part of me longs for him to bridge the gap.

It isn't like he hasn't been touching me because he has. And then some. Whenever he gets the chance, Malcolm has his mouth on mine, and even better, his mouth between my legs.

He's made me come so many times like that I've lost count, but besides letting me stroke him for a few seconds outside of his pants, things have never gone farther. And that worries me.

I want him so bad that I dream about it, waking up in the middle of the night next to him with my pussy wet and my arousal making me almost crazy. I rub up against him, and he takes care of me every time, either with his hands or mouth, but it never quite fills the emptiness in my core.

Maybe it's because of Adam. I know he's still around, even if I haven't seen the asshole myself.

Malcolm's words still echo in my mind—the day he forbade me from mentioning Adam. My ex-boyfriend's presence here, in the same estate, is probably a constant undercurrent of tension for his father.

Late at night, Adam comes and goes, straight to his old room, a reminder of a past I'm desperately trying to put behind me.

So Malcolm won't fuck me, at least not yet. There is a part of me that's relieved because, well…I've never slept with anyone. Ever. Malcolm has proven to be such an unbelievable lover, though, that I can't help but want him to be my first.

And if I'm being honest, my last, too. But that's too intense to think about right now.

Yesterday, Malcolm mentioned a charity dinner he's hosting in a few weeks. While he didn't outright invite me, his allusions to a seamstress and a dress fitting hint that he plans to unveil our relationship to the world.

It's a small step, and yet, it could be monumental. If Adam doesn't know what's going on between me and his father, there will be no way to deny it then. Letting the world know that I'm with Malcolm feels scary, but it's inevitable.

I understand how important it is that we are in control of the narrative. The less mention of Adam, the better.

All of these thoughts are why I find myself in the gym this morning, practicing yoga, something I haven't done since high school. It helps center me, and being centered is something I desperately need these days.

As I move through Malcolm's home gym, my body sinking into the yoga poses, I marvel at how my life has changed. From struggling to make ends meet at a diner to now being taken care of in every way imaginable. Pampered. Nurtured. And soon, maybe even loved.

Guilt occasionally prickles at my conscience. I'm hooking up with my ex's father, after all. But the connection Malcolm and I share feels deeper, like fate guiding us together.

I flow through my poses, feeling true peace, and make a decision. Tonight, I'll tell him I'm a virgin, and we'll see how it goes from there.

The day unfolds, filled with moments that make me smile and contemplate our uncertain future. I want to talk to Malcolm, to be honest about my feelings, my fears. He probably has no clue I've been keeping a secret—my virginity—and it feels like a weight on my chest.

The fact that I've never gone beyond kissing someone until him. My inexperience, combined with our age difference, makes me worry he'll tire of me.

As dinner arrives, Malcolm's presence across the table anchors me, his knowing gaze making my heart race. I muster up the courage, ready to open up to him. But his perceptive eyes catch my distraction.

"Melody, you seem preoccupied," he observes.

I take a deep breath, my fingers curling around my fork. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something. Can we go to the library after dinner?"

He arches an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Of course, sweet Melody. The library it is."

When the meal draws to a close, my heart races. The library is one of my favorite rooms in the whole mansion, and the crackling fireplace creates an intimate atmosphere that seems fitting for this conversation. Malcolm follows me in, his presence comforting yet also intimidating.

He's already had his butler light a fire, and the glowing warmth makes me sigh in pleasure. Malcolm has also had a bottle of port brought to the library, and he pours himself a glass, settling into his favorite red leather chair.

I hesitate for a moment, searching for the right words. I'm too nervous to sit, so I don't, even when Malcolm looks at me questioningly.

Okay. Here it goes. "Malcolm, I appreciate everything you've done for me. But you don't have to stay with me just because of a promise you made. I've noticed...the fact that we haven't taken things further. It's made me wonder if you've lost interest."

His brow furrows. "Melody, do you really think that's the reason?"

I nod, my fingers twisting together nervously. "I've never been in a relationship like this before. I don't want you to feel obligated. My inexperience—it's a lot to deal with."

A deep sigh escapes him, "Melody, you have no idea how much I want you. My restraint isn't about lack of interest. It's about respect and patience. You mean more to me than you can imagine."

He pauses, searching my face. His next words are much less composed, and they make heat pool in my belly. "Don't you think I'd be fucking you every night if it was possible? Every night, forever?"

Shocked, I struggle to find words. "I…I thought you'd want me to leave sooner than later…"

Malcolm's laughter rumbles through the library, a rich and genuine sound that fills the air. "Melody, you really think I'd want you gone? That's absurd."

His laughter is so warm, so sincere, that it sends a flutter of embarrassment through me. I can't help but feel like I've been overthinking everything, like I've let my insecurities cloud my judgment.

I turn slightly, my cheeks flushing as I glance away. "I just... I guess I let my thoughts get the best of me. You're just…you know, a freaking billionaire, and I'm a former waitress…"

"Stop," he commands gently, and I feel the weight of his gaze on me.

I shake my head, my heart pounding in my chest. "No, Malcolm. I need to be honest with you. I can't just pretend like I don't have these doubts."

His voice lowers when I still won't meet his eyes. "Melody, look at me."

I'm verging on some sort of panic, feeling cornered and humiliated. "I'm just going back to my room. We can…I don't know…talk later…"

Then he drops a bomb. "I guess I was wrong about you."

This brings me up short. I pause, turning slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

Malcolm rakes his eyes over my body before shifting his gaze to the glass of port in his outstretched arm again, the blood-red liquid slowly sloshing. "I thought you were a good girl. That you knew what you wanted and that you wanted to please me."

I ignore the rush of heat I feel when he says please me, my mouth falling open in shock. "Malcolm, I…I do want to make you happy. It's just…"

"Just what?" Now he looks back at me, pinning me with his eyes. "Just scared? Have I given you any reason to be scared, my little Melody?"

"No," I answer honestly. "I just….know where this is going. And there's something about me that you don't know."

Malcolm raises one eyebrow but is clearly waiting for me to elaborate, which I really don't want to do, but how else am I supposed to explain how hot and cold I'm being?

I've never wanted something while being intimidated by it so badly. I haven't even told Adam this, but Malcolm…well. He knows more about me and has had more of me than Adam could ever dream of. I can do this. I have to.

"Malcolm… I'm a virgin," I blurt the words out before I can second-guess myself. He doesn't say anything for so long that the heat of the fire at my back starts to get uncomfortable

Finally, he leans forward, his voice low and gravelly. "Say it again."

I blink a few times, confused, but figuring it's easier to just go along with it. "I'm a virgin."

He inhales, letting it out slowly before bringing the port to his lips and draining the whole glass. Malcolm sits the tumbler on the table and spreads his arms out on the back of the couch, his posture relaxed but his face anything but.

The intensity of his focus on me would be frightening if it was anyone else. But this is Malcolm, and he's already had his face between my legs so…I guess there isn't any reason to be scared.

"You're a virgin," he says finally, "which means, when I have you, I will be the first. And sweet Melody, I intend to be the last. How do you feel about that?"

Heat flashes through me, and I feel pinned in place, unable to move. Nothing in the room exists now except for me and him, and the unavoidable connection between us.

How do I feel about it? Thrilled, in a sense, but also frightened. Adam is long gone, and it's just Malcolm and me in this enormous house.

Nothing is stopping a single thing from happening between us except for the thin string of my own willpower. Because I really would like more things to happen between us, and the fact that it's wrong on so many levels just makes me want it more.

So, I guess thrilled. Nervous. Excited. And utterly unsure of my next move. Malcolm is waiting for a response, too, and I can't just ignore him. I lick my lips and inhale slowly, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing.

"I don't not like it," I admit finally. "It's sort of a crazy thing to say, but still. I like it."

His grin comes slowly, one-sided before it takes over his entire face while he sits there like a king surveying his kingdom and everything within it. "Maybe you're a good girl after all, then. Shut the door, and then come and stand in front of me."

I do as I'm told. What he's asking isn't out of my comfort zone, at least not yet, so there's nothing morally making me stop. I walk to the library door, my bare feet silent on the carpet, and pull it fully shut.

There's no lock on it because who would lock a library? But Malcolm hasn't exactly given me the idea that he's all too worried about a locked door. Then I make my way back over to him.

I stand a few feet away from Malcolm, but he shakes his head once, crooking his fingers so I come a few more steps forward. I do so, walking closer and closer until I'm almost between his legs.

He rumbles his approval, moving to pour himself another glass of port from the carafe, and settling back into his kingly pose.

"Now undress," he commands after his first sip of the new glass. "Slowly."

My mouth hangs open for a second, but I manage to shut it and quickly go over the possibilities in my head. Am I really going to listen to Malcolm and undress in front of him like some exotic dancer?

One glance at the fire in his eyes for me has me making up my mind. Yes. Yes, I am.

The fact that I inspire that much desire in this man who can obviously have anyone and anything he wants is a heady feeling. I'm still equally nervous and at a loss about what to do, so I'm mighty glad he's taking the reins.

And the way he sounds so bossy and demanding? Oh god, it's so unbelievably hot, my thighs cinch together.

I let my oversized flannel slide down my arms and hit the floor first, leaving me in just a fitted crop tank and jeans. I don't try to make this some sort of sexy dance or anything like that.

This encounter isn't about that, I can already tell. The primal longing between the two of us is too powerful to make this any sort of game, so I don't even try.

I strip, my breath coming faster and faster with each piece of clothing that hits the ground. Malcolm doesn't say anything. He just drinks his port and watches me with ever-darkening eyes.

Once I'm down to just my bra and underwear, he sets the glass to the side and leans forward, the muscles bunching in his arms and making his shirt strain at the seams. Elbows on his knees now, he watches me take off the last few pieces of clothing.

The hunger flaring in his eyes almost sends me over to the edge.

I'm fully naked. Holy crap, I'm fully naked in front of Malcolm Mayfield…and he looks like it's taking every ounce of his control not to lunge forward and pull me to him.

The chill air of the room battles with the heat of the fire over my bare skin, and as the minutes pass, I can't tell if I'm feeling turned on, embarrassed, or both. Probably both, if I'm being honest with myself.

Finally, without words, he reaches forward and rests his hands on my hips. I've been waiting so anxiously for his touch that even this simple caress almost makes me moan.

Malcolm pulls me forward, and there's no lead-up between that tug forward and his mouth closing over one of my nipples.

Lust whips across my nerves, the shock of the feeling almost making me lose my balance. He sucks, and his other hand finds the other taut peak with his fingers, tugging and rolling until I'm afraid my legs really will give out.

The sensations go from my nipples straight to my core, and I know I'm becoming visibly wet for him, but there's nothing for me to do but tilt my head back and let all this delicious torture happen to me.

My fingers card through his hair when he switches from nipple to nipple, over and over, and just when I think I'm about to scream, he pulls away and starts working at the buttons of his own shirt.

He's quick, and his shirt joins mine on the ground, and then Malcolm is on me again. This time, his hands squeeze and knead my asscheeks while his mouth works over me.

Once I'm back to the same level of crazy, one of his hands snakes to the front of my body, and he covers my pussy with one huge palm, making me spread my legs just a little.

Malcolm's other hand grabs my head and pulls me into a kiss just as his fingers part my folds and start to caress. I run my hands over his chest, each expanse of muscle and warm bronze skin making me feel even weaker than before.

Seeing his tattooed arms, the twisting mass of dark colors and shapes, make so little sense when combined with the put-together businessman I know him to be, but I love them.

His finger grazes my clit and I almost jump out of my skin. Malcolm kisses me in the same rhythm he fingers me, his thumb making tight little circles over my clit while his other fingers start a slow exploration of my channel.

It's so tight at first that I hiss in protest, but he just amps up everything else he's doing to me until I'm melting in his arms once more.

I remember how easily he made me come in his mouth, and it seems like he'll be able to do it just as quickly with his hands. Malcolm lets me break the kiss long enough to look down at the space between us, and I hear him chuckle darkly.

"Look what I'm doing to you," he rasps. "Look at the way my fingers are fucking your pussy. You like that don't you, good girl?"

"Uh-huh," I babble. "I do."

"You want more?"

"Yes!" springs to my lips without hesitation, and Malcolm uses my agreement to push his finger even farther inside of me. It's almost impossibly tight, but he isn't discouraged and fills me with his digit bit by bit.

I vaguely feel him hit some sort of barrier, and he pulls his finger out, this time resuming with two of them.

The same burning stretch is there, but he moves quicker, making it to the barrier in half the time he did before. I have no warning of what he's about to do except the way his thumb picks up speed around my clit, finally sliding over the swollen button of it at the same moment his fingers piece the barrier in full.

There is pain—just a sharp bite of it—but he overwhelms me with so much pleasure that it's hard to even focus on it. As my muscles relax, Malcolm slides his fingers all the way inside of me, again and again, fucking me just like I think he's going to do with his cock soon.

It's a scary thought, but I'm beyond the point of resisting what I want because I've never wanted anything with the intensity I want this man here and now.

There's only a second where he stops touching me, flinging his belt off and undoing his pants, pushing them to the ground while he lifts himself.

It happens so fast that one moment he's dressed, and the next, I can see the rock-hard length of him bare to the world. And oh my god, there is a lot of length. Enough to make my mouth go dry.

I can't take that inside of me. There's simply no way. He's long and thick, darker at the tip, and veiny all the way down. Malcolm palms himself, touching me all over with his free hand and watching as I look my fill of him.

"Don't be scared," Malcolm rumbles, fingers flicking over my nipples and making me squirm. "It will fit. I promise."

"Malcolm…" I say, unsure.

He releases his manhood and pulls me into a kiss. "Just come here. I'm going to make you feel so fucking good, Melody, I promise. No rush, we'll go at your pace."

Swallowing hard, I nod, moving forward until I have to straddle his muscled thighs and balance my hands on them, squeezing appreciatively as I do.

His body is unreal. Malcolm helps with his hands on my hips once more, and as he kisses me slowly, languidly, he coaxes me up until I'm hovering over his cock.

The enormous head of it parts my pussy lips and rests outside of the hole, and fear rises. I'm still so much inside my head and scared of doing the wrong thing, but I'm so wet that it's dripping down onto him, and I can't make myself resist it.

I'm not scared of Malcolm. Such a thing is impossible. I'm scared of scaring him away with my inexperience.

"Easy," he whispers against my lips. "Go slow, Melody."

Malcolm talks as if I'm the one doing the moving, but it's him pulling me down slowly, slowly, until the head of his cock has breached my entrance.

I let out a shaky breath while he praises me, his tongue snaking into my mouth and stealing any expressions of worry I might speak.

Inch by aching inch, Malcolm lowers me down onto the length of him. My inner walls protest only briefly, quickly opening to him with hardly a second of burning stretch.

Little cries fall from my lips, but as he gets deeper and deeper, he leans my torso back and sucks my nipples into his mouth again, over and over.

Time loses its meaning, but after unknown minutes, Malcolm finally hits home within me and I'm seated fully on top of him. I can hardly believe it, but he's truly inside me.

I have his entire cock in me! All that size! Just the thought sends another wave of adrenaline-laced pleasure through me.

Before I can even process it, he's helping me rise again and slide back down. He cants his hips in such a way that he's stroking something inside of me that almost makes me go cross-eyed. It feels that wonderful.

All the tightness that has been building in me throughout this entire encounter grows and grows as he helps me fuck him, while he also surges upwards to fuck me in kind.

"That's my girl," he growls, and I see the way the vein is jumping in his neck and how tight his jaw is. I'm affecting him strongly, too.

Leaning forward, I kiss that tight jaw, loving the taste of his sweat and the way his grip tightens on my hips when I do it. I've kissed a path to his neck before he captures my mouth in a kiss, the way he's thrusting up into me gaining speed.

I'm sweating, moaning, and shuddering as I grab his shoulders. At this point, there's nothing left in me to help with the movements, and Malcolm has taken over fully, moving me up and down his cock, filling my pussy, and hitting spots inside of me that feel so good I can't help the near-screams I make each time.

Malcolm owns my body completely at this point, and he knows it. We both do.

"This pussy is mine, Melody," he tells me, nipping at my earlobe. "And I'm going to make it come so hard before I fill you up."

The words alone almost make me orgasm, but when his hand leaves my hip and finds my clit, which is totally engorged, I know I'm on the inescapable path to coming in minutes.

The sharp pleasure of his fingers on my clit combined with the bone-deep feeling of his cock in me is something otherworldly.

When I come, it's so intense that I'm afraid I'll squeeze him right out of me. But Malcolm holds me steady and keeps fucking into me so he can feel my walls spasming around his cock. It isn't just my pussy that's spasming, either. It's all of me.

I come so hard that all of my nerves fire, and all of my body leaves my control as I sob Malcolm's name over and over again. I've never felt anything like it, and it's so all-consuming that I feel like it will never end.

Malcolm groans, the sound rising from his chest, and slams into me even harder before he himself orgasms, too. His hot come coats my inner walls, making my own climax even more intense.

I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his neck until the incredible pleasure finally begins to ebb.

Malcolm doesn't pull out of me when he finishes, either, but simply crushes my body to him, as if he isn't ready for us to part and go back to being two separate beings. I feel the same, tightening my legs so he can't easily let me go.

If I never left this moment, I would be content. I already know that my life—heck, the entire world—will never be the same.

"So that's it," he tells me, right into my ear. "You're mine, Melody."

"I know," I whisper back, turning to kiss him gently. "Does that mean you're mine, too?"

He laughs, and I feel it vibrating in his chest. "Yes, I think it does, sweet Melody. I think it does."