Page 37 of Melt With You

Van nodded, and slowly Dori felt herself becoming more powerful, the way she had with Luke. She saw the surprise in Van’s eyes as she pulled her hair out of his grip. Saw him admire her as she pushed her body against his, tipping him onto the floor, using her hands on his wrists to hold him down.

He could have broken free if he’d wanted to, but she could tell from the way he was staring at her that he didn’t want to. Clearly, he was going to let her run the show. Now, Dori straddled him, naked on his clothed body, loving the way the seam of his jeans felt against her. She stroked her hand through his hair, pushed a wave of it off his face, and then reached for the tequila in one hand, and the knife in the other.

Van’s eyes grew wider still.

‘Do you like this shirt?’

He looked down. He was wearing a black shirt with a skeleton outline printed onto the fabric.

‘Do I …?’

But she didn’t wait to hear him finish. She ran the knife down from the neckline, cutting easily through the thin cotton, then parting the two halves of the T-shirt when she reached the hem. His bare chest was smooth and hard. She had the tequila now, and she poured a stream over him. Not caring about the mess, the puddle on the floor. She was moving, licking him, drinking the sharp-tasting liquor as she pushed back toward his feet.

‘Oh, God,’ Van sighed when her hands found his belt. She pulled open the buckle, yanked on the fly so that the buttons popped open, released him. She saw the remnants of her lipstick on his cock from their tryst at the theater, and that turned her on even more.

‘I can’t get enough of you, baby,’ Van said as she worked him, ‘come here. Please.’ He was pulling on her, moving her, so that their bodies were in a sixty-nine, Dori’s on top. Van began to do exactly what she’d fantasized, licking her in tight circles, pressing his tongue against her when she needed that extra bit of power.

She gripped onto his jeans as she worked him, paying attention to the motions he made, echoing them with her mouth. Knowing that fucking on the tequila-slick floor of her den was one of the most decadent things she’d ever done in this house, and not caring at all.

In the morning, Dori woke up with what she was starting to think was a familiar headache. But this morning, she also woke with a novel idea. What if she called her brother now? What if she dialed his number in the future? Would that work? He might be able to help her. Out of all the people she knew, he’d listen. He might actually believe.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she dialed his number. She held her breath, waiting to hear his familiar voice, disappointed beyond measure when she reached a cool recording. The sound of an electronic voice repeating: ‘The number you have reached is out of order. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please try your call again.’

At least, she was trying. She wasn’t just accepting her fate.

‘Who are you calling?’ Van asked, wrapping his big arms around her.

‘Just a friend.’ She hadn’t known he was up. They’d ended up sleeping on the fold-out sofa in the den, and she’d tiptoed out of the room in order to make the call without wanting to wake him.

‘A boyfriend,’ he guessed, his mouth against her neck.

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I told you. I broke up with my boyfriend.’

‘One of them. You must have twenty more waiting for you in New York.’

She liked the fact that he found her so irresistible. And she liked the fact that he always seemed ready to fuck. Was that why some of her friends had declared that younger men were better? She’d never thought to try out the theory for herself. In her mind, Van was still older than she was. In reality – and she had to believe this was reality – she was nearing forty while he was nearing twenty-five. But why should she bring reality into this? Why not just let him bend her over the kitchen counter-top, slip her tiny little panties aside, and drive his cock inside of her?

He didn’t check to see if she was wet. He’d known somehow that she’d be ready for him. She was always ready for him. He commented on that every so often. ‘Look at you, you’re so wet. Right from the start. I’ve never met anyone get ready so quickly.’

Well, he was always hard. Or so it seemed to Dori. Were all boys like this? Twenty-somethings? She couldn’t remember. She’d tended to date older men as soon as she got into beauty school. And then, on the sets of movies, hanging out with the key grips and the best boys, she always found herself attracted to the men who had at least a few years on her. Forgoing the pleasure of dating her own age. But now that she was older, she could see the delight in playing with a younger crowd.

Van slid inside of her, and she groaned.

God, he felt good. His cock drove forward, hard, and she lowered her head and let the first wave of pleasure rush through her. How could she be ready for more? They’d had sex in the bathroom at The Majestic, and then again when he’d shown up in the middle of the night. Now, after only a few hours of sleep, they were both ready for one another again. She loved that. Loved the feeling of fucking him, loved the way she felt afterwards, made dizzy from the pleasure of the climax.

She thought the rumors were that boys were selfish. But Van wasn’t one of them. He kept his hand in front of her body, so that he could strum her clit the way he strummed his guitar strings. Gently at first, then with more power as the ride grew stronger. She’d watched him practice one day, and she’d felt jealous of his instrument. Now, she was his instrument.

‘You like that,’ he murmured to her, voice close, mouth against her ear.

‘Yes,’ Dori sighed.

‘Tell me about it. Tell me how much you like it.’

She sucked in a deep breath. She knew he wanted her to talk dirty to him, at least, she sensed that. And rather than blush and stammer, she decided to go with it. To give him what he wanted, because she could tell that deep down saying the words would turn her on as well. So far, everything they’d done together had turned her on. Just look at how wet she’d got in the theater, fucking Frank-N-Furter while dressed as Brad.

‘Say it,’ he insisted, when she hadn’t immediately responded.

‘I love the way your cock feels inside of me.’

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