Page 14 of The Hitch
Roman assured me the paperwork is rock-solid. I'm simply waiting for the exact right time to spring it on Melody. I watch her climb into her bed—the bed I shared—and scroll mindlessly on her phone. I didn't allow myself to think about slipping into her bed throughout my whole day, but now that I'm home, the memory comes rushing back.
Her ample curves are burned into my mind's eye. The peaceful expression on her sleeping face, contrasted with the murderousfury I know she contains, sets my desire aflame. And the thought of her beautiful stomach swollen with my child nearly sends me into ecstasy.
As if she knew what I was thinking, she rolls over and reaches into the drawer of her nightstand.
"Fuck," I groan as she takes out the little bullet vibrator. I hear a faint click over my phone's speaker, followed by a soft buzzing.
Melody's eyelids flutter closed as she slides her hand down, down, down into her red panties. I want to scream at her, force her to take them off, but I'm frozen. My cock strains against my zipper. Forcing myself to move, I quickly unbuckle my belt and kick my own pants off. I lay back in my bed, one hand on my cock, the other holding my phone.
She nestles the little vibrator against her clit and arches her back. Her breasts heave with every breath as she toys with herself. I'm choking my cock; I've never been harder in my life. She makes me insane. I have a primal need to chase her down and shove my cock into her warm cunt.
I need to fuck her.
I need tobreedher.
"You're fucking mine, Melody," I gasp out as she rolls her eyes back in her head. I watch her thighs quiver and quake as she gets closer, but she pulls the vibrator away at the last second, gasping and moaning. God damn, she's teasing herself for me. Not wanting to spill my own cum before she does, I release my stranglehold on my cock and pant along with her.
She's exquisite. I study those pillowy thighs, spread-eagle on her crimson sheets, committing them to memory. She is everything. She is divine. Divine and dangerous.
I was right. She is the perfect woman for me.
She taps on her phone screen with a thumb, and the tinny sound of women moaning comes through my phone speaker.Fuck, she's absolutely perfect. Melody even knows she belongsto me already; she's not watching anything withmen. I hear the women murmur sultry things to each other as they fuck on her screen.
She burrows the vibrator between her thighs and presses down on her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head and her legs quake—I stroke myself faster and faster, I need to match her pace—and she detonates.
I see the moment her orgasm hits its peak as she furrows her brow, grimacing, like it's bordering on pain instead of pleasure. Whining, panting breaths spill from her lips as I spill from my cock, spraying my seed onto my stomach. She yanks the vibrator away and clicks off the screen of her phone. The pornographic noises abruptly silence.
Melody tosses the vibrator back into her nightstand drawer and pulls up her cheap, fuzzy red blanket. God, she's mine. She's perfection. I was right.
I was lying to myself—and Roman—when I said I just wanted to verify she could be trusted. Oh, no. She's my obsession, my possession, and it'salmosttime to snatch her up.
It's become a nightly ritual for Melody and I to come together. I think she even knows it. Why else would she angle her body perfectly, exposing that wet cunt to me and my cameras? It's perfection, and I can't wait to taste her.
Roman, however, is becoming a bit perturbed at my obsession with my phone. I watch her in meetings, with one earbud in. I watch her at my desk. I watch her at home. I've memorized her schedule with the diner. Though I'm not sure how she's making enough money for her responsibilities. She rarely leaves her home except to go to work.
She must know that I'm taking care of her. Her weekly grocery delivery arrives at noon on the dot, every Wednesday, and she doesn't even look suspicious anymore. Which means she's letting her guard down.
Excellent.
Though it's taken all of my willpower to not force my way into her apartment every night, I can tell she's getting used to the idea of me. Being my wife. Birthing my children. Beingmine.
But my resolve is growing thin. Ineedto be near her. I need to smell her delicate soap, I need to touch her hair, I need to run my hands along those gorgeous curves.
I need her.
"Mr. Lyons?" Valencia enters my office without knocking. Irritating thing.
"What?" I snap, scowling and looking back to Melody's surveillance.
"I… well. I've noticed that you've been more, um, reclusive recently." She chews on her lower lip and approaches my desk.
"And?"
"And I wondered if… there was anything, um, extra. Anything extra I could do for you." Valencia perches herself on the edge of my desk, leaning towards me.
I quickly minimize the camera feed. "Valencia."
"You can call me Val, sir. All my friends do," she says with a smile.
