Page 68 of Love Me Darkly
“Would you like to know how this pairing tastes?” he whispered against her ear, swiping a wet finger over her lips.
She licked the smoky-sweet liquid off her lips and moaned, “Yes.”
He did it again, but then kissed the Scotch off her lips before she could lick it away herself.
“Like fire and ice,” he replied, his hand slowly running down her body until his fingers were slipping under the hem of her dress. “Like pain and desire. It burns going down, baby girl … but I like the pain. I crave the sting like I crave you.”
Melody trembled as he slowly dragged the dress up before snatching off the blindfold. She blinked to focus her eyes, then found his face looming over hers, dark and beautiful and kissed by moonlight. The naked desire carved into his features was unmistakable, his eyes simmering like hot coals.
He let his fingers trace slow, feather-light circles along her belly, then stroked down the seam of her pussy through her panties. The ability to see again did nothing to dull her other senses. Tremors rocked her at every touch, her legs trembling as Mateo urged her to bend her knees and spread them apart. He took up the glass, still containing about an inch of liquid. He tipped it, and a trickle of Scotch filled the hollow of her navel. She gasped from its cold splash, then cried out when he dipped his tongue in to lap it up, the hot stroke sending a lightning strike down her spine. He cupped her breast and squeezed the nipple through the fabric. She gasped, arching her back and spreading her legs wider, wordlessly pleading.
Mateo crouched between them, tearing off his jacket and throwing it aside before peeling off his shirt. Melody barely had the chance to enjoy the sight of him before he was lifting the glass again, its gleam in the moonlight distracting her. She watched him raise it, hold it high. He locked gazes with her before tipping the glass, holding her stare while the liquid streamed down the inside of one thigh and then the other. It streamed over her skin in tiny rivers, and she shook with the effort it took to hold still while he gripped one thigh in a strong hand and lowered his head. Her clit pulsed and throbbed at the feel of his tongue, stroking down her thigh and then back up again, capturing every drop.
“Fuck, baby girl,” he groaned, pressing a cheek against the thigh he’d just cleaned with his tongue. “Only you could make a good Macallan taste better.”
Any reply she might have made was choked off as he went at the other thigh, giving her a little bite that added a vibrant prick of pain to the searing pleasure of his open mouth gathering the drops of liquor. Then, the empty tumbler was tossed aside and forgotten as he hooked a finger in her panties and snatched them down. Melody barely gave him time to get his belt open and his zipper down before she was pulling him over her, arching and eager, dripping wet. He’d hardly touched her with more than his mouth, and she felt ready to explode the second he got inside of her. She scraped her fingers through his hair and devoured his mouth, rolling her hips to invite him in. He bit her lower lip, hard enough to make her gasp and draw away. When he lifted his head to stare down at her, he was smiling, but there was no humor in it. It was a predator’s smile, making her feel as if she were about to be devoured whole.
Poising himself at her entrance, he nudged in a bare few inches and held. Dropping his head, his shoulders shuddered with the control it took for him to simply hold himself there, teasing her with the promise of more. His thighs widened hers, opening her more, letting him gain another inch.
Melody’s core clenched and spasmed, shock overwhelming her as she realized how close she was to splintering.
“Mateo,” she pleaded, reaching for his cock, trying to guide him in further. “Fuck me.”
He growled low in his throat, taking hold of her wrist and keeping her from touching him. He levered her arm upward until it was stretched over her head, then took the other and positioned it the same way before capturing her wrists in one hand. He drew her taut, stretching her, imprisoning her. Her thighs trembled and her belly clenched in roiling spasms, release so close she could taste it.
She could only beg him with her eyes, her breath coming off in soft pants and gasps, words trapped in her throat. Without releasing her gaze, Mateo reached for the open bottle of Macallan. Wrapping his lips around the opening, he tipped it back, taking a swig. Then, setting the bottle aside, he leaned over her, his lips pursed around the liquid. He communicated without words, and Melody’s lips parted on the silent command. She opened for him, tipping up her chin and waiting. He pushed in to the hilt as the slow, gentle stream of Scotch trickled from his mouth to hers. It hit the back of her throat, and she had barely swallowed before his lips slammed down over hers at the same moment he drew back his hips and plunged. She came with a muffled scream and the taste of Macallan on her tongue, Mateo battering her with short, fast, brutal thrusts. Scotch dripped down her chin when he tore his mouth away, and he sucked at it before kissing her stinging lips with a possessiveness that left her breathless.
“Melody,” he groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair and burying his face in her neck. “Fuck, baby girl, you feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me.”
She clung to him, fingernails rasping the fabric of his T-shirt as he pounded her, driving her against the hard ground with every thrust and sending the impact through the farthest reaches of her body. Then, she was spinning, whirling, brought upright when he went to his back and positioned her over him without dislodging their bodies. Melody pressed her hands into his chest and took over, the frantic pounding of another climax driving her toward madness. It was like that moment in the storage room when all barriers had fallen between them. Except this time, she was the one using him, taking him, tearing away parts of herself to fill them with him. Mateo braced a hand at her hip and squeezed, urging her on. His other hand fell between her breasts, his fingers hooked in the neckline of her dress. He didn’t try to control her movements or guide her, only held her tight as she rode him, her eyes rolling back into her head as he touched parts of her that were buried so deep no one else would ever find them.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he crooned. “Give it to me. Take what you need. I’m all yours, baby … all yours.”
Melody increased her pace, hardly able to breathe as she chased her ending, freed to take what she wanted. She had never been so feral, so desperate, so determined to possess someone as thoroughly as they possessed her. Mateo was lost now, head thrown back and brows furrowed as if it took every ounce of his concentration to keep from wresting control from her. He was trembling, clutching at her with shaking hands, moaning his pleasure without restraint.
“Oh, God,” she cried, stiffening as the waves of climax washed over her. “Mateo!”
The cry of his name struck between them like lightning, and they came together, Melody riding him through the pounding spasms until her body gave out and she fell limp against him, Mateo wrapping his arms around her and holding her, raising his hips as he filled her with his finish.
They went limp with harmonized sighs of bliss. Melody curled tighter around him, holding him close and resting her head on his chest. His heart pounded in her ear, its cadence a match for hers. He softened inside her but remained lodged deep. A slight movement had him groaning and his cock twitching inside her.
“Careful, baby girl,” he mumbled. “You don’t want to wake him up again. We’ll be here until sunrise.”
With a hoarse laugh, she fell off him onto her side. He yanked up his jeans and zipped them, but didn’t bother with the button or his belt. He simply pulled her against him and folded the blanket over so it cradled them from below and draped over them from above. They lay together in silence for a long time, Mateo’s breaths eventually growing quieter and hers following suit. She stared up at the stars and smiled, realizing that this had been the best night of her life and the man lying next to her was fully responsible.
Nuzzling his neck, she gave it a little kiss and then sighed. “Do we have to go back? I don’t want this to be over.”
He stroked a fingertip down her arm. “Me either. We have a little time left. Just lie here with me and let me hold you.”
She wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled closer, draping one of her legs over his. He clutched her thigh to keep her there. After a while, his chest rumbled against her cheek when he spoke.
“Well? How do you feel about Scotch now?”
Craning her neck to look up at him, she grinned. “Best thing I ever tasted … besides you.”
Mateo held open the door to the interrogation room for Donovan, who stepped in before him. Caleb Morgan sat chained to the table, in the same position Tariq Hayes had been in following the NOLA house raid. Williams and Smith had brought Caleb in the second the warrant was in hand, finding him at one of several flop houses he rotated between on any given week. He looked like he had been rolled through a gutter and slept in a pile of trash on the street—his all-black clothes dusty, stained, and frayed. The bristle of blond scruff on his head was uneven at the hairline, like he’d never had a proper haircut in his life. His large, blue eyes were set in a gaunt face with sunken cheekbones and a thick, defiant jaw. There was a dark bruise on his left cheekbone and an angry red road-rash showing on his bicep due to the sleeveless shirt he wore. He had tried to run when being served, then resisted arrest, only for Smith to tackle him and push his face into the pavement.
Caleb had been waiting for two hours while the agents left him to dangle.
