Easy Melody (Boudreaux 3)

“I don’t know what day it is,” I reply and plunge my hands in his hair, reveling in how soft it is. He licks down to my navel, then farther down still and I can’t help but fist my hands, tugging on his hair, but not wanting him to stop. “I like the little bit of hair you keep here,” he murmurs, brushing his nose over it, then sinks even farther and licks me from labia to clit, and back down again, making my back arch right up off the bed.

“Holy fuck!”

“Mmmm,” he agrees as he latches onto my lips and sucks, while simultaneously plunging his tongue inside me. Dear sweet God, he’s good with his mouth.

“Declan!”

“That’s right, Calliope, what’s my name?”

“Declan.”

My head is thrashing back and forth as he resumes fucking me with his mouth and plants the pad of his thumb against my clit, and I see stars. I’m pretty sure that’s my voice crying out as I fall apart, coming harder than I can remember coming before. I can barely feel Declan kissing his way up my body, pausing here and there to bite me gently, which only sends more shivers through me, until he’s finally braced over me.

“How was that first one?”

“First one what?” I mumble. His lips twitch as he lowers himself to rest his lips on mine, and I can smell and taste myself.

“Orgasm,” he whispers.

“One for the record books,” I reply and circle my hips, rubbing my sopping wet pussy against his hard, throbbing cock. His eyes cross.

“Fuck, you’re so damn sexy,” he growls.

“I don’t know if you can tell by what I’m doing down there, but you’re invited to slip inside me now.” I smile and grip his ass in my hands, digging my nails in. He tips his forehead against mine and does exactly that: slips inside me, but stops when he’s halfway there. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re tight, Callie.”

I tilt my hips and take him the rest of the way, and that’s it. He doesn’t hold back any more. He’s pounding me now, hips moving fast and steady, and God, he just fits me. His pubis hits my clit with every thrust, and before long, I’m seeing stars again.

“So good,” I moan. “Declan, you feel so good.”

He grins and kisses me, devouring me, until I can’t stop the orgasm that moves through me. I’m clutching at him, holding him close.

“Shit, I’m going with you,” he groans, just before his whole body tightens and he moans as he lets go of his own release.

After a long moment of panting and bodies slowly relaxing, Declan rolls off me, then pulls me against him.

“We’re messy.”

“I don’t care,” he replies and kisses me softly. His fingertips are lazily dragging up and down my back, making me sleepy.

“I didn’t see a music room,” I murmur against his neck.

“I didn’t show it to you,” he replies softly.

“Why?”

I feel him shrug beneath me. “It felt personal.”

“And this isn’t?” I ask with a chuckle as I lean my head back so I can see his eyes.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to get you in here,” he replies and kisses my forehead. “It’s not done yet. I’ll show you when it’s finished. You should sleep.”

“You really want me to stay?”

“Yes.” His arms tighten around me. I’ve never felt this at home with a man. Not even with Keith, and I’d been with him for years.

This is all so different. Better different.

“Did you lose a parent, Declan?” I ask, remembering what he said earlier before the game.

“My father passed away almost three years ago.” He doesn’t stiffen up, or turn away. But his voice sounds sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Did you get along well with him?”

He nods. “Ours is a close family. We had our moments, but I don’t know if there’s anyone in the world I’ve ever admired more.”

“That’s nice.” I close my eyes against the tears that want to form. “I didn’t admire my father. I loved him, but I didn’t admire him.”

“No?”

I shake my head and appreciate that he’s not pressing me to continue. He just waits.

Declan might be the most patient man I’ve ever met.

“He fell apart after Mama died. Most men would have recovered, but he never did. So I took care of him.”

“Who took care of you?” Declan asks softly. I simply shake my head and continue.

“Dad was an alcoholic, and owning a bar didn’t help that at all. He wasn’t a mean drunk, Dec. He was a sweet man. But he would get sad. As an adult, it’s easy to look back and see that he was just trying to be numb. He loved her so much.

“We lived in that apartment above the bar, and I’d wait for it to close every night, and for him to come upstairs. I learned to have a bucket near the door so he could be sick, and then I’d help him to bed, then go to bed myself.”

“And get yourself off to school the next morning,” Declan guesses correctly.

“After I graduated, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I felt so much guilt, but I knew the best thing for me was to go. So I did. I went to college, majored in restaurant management, and thought I’d come back here and help Dad, but I just couldn’t do it.” I’m surprised that there are no tears. I’m just telling him the story as if it belongs to someone else.

Sometimes it feels like it did happen to someone else.