Sex With Your Ex Page 2

  In an instant he was above her, his powerful thighs bracketing her head. She kneaded the muscled flesh as she touched her hot tongue to his cock, licking and kissing a path of fire along his stiff length. His hands cupped her head, encouraging her to take all of him; she widened her mouth, taking his entire length in a slow frenzy of lips and tongue. She slid slowly over the satin flesh, repeatedly suctioning his cock until she felt his hard legs tremble. Reaching behind him she clutched the muscled globes of his ass as he impaled her mouth. She heard the soft pop and his sharp intake of breath as he withdrew himself.

  In moments he was in her wet, aching passage, sliding her toward him so her legs dangled at the edge of the bed. He slid his thick cock into her, inch by inch. She willingly accepted all of him. Sighing with contentment, she raised her arms above her head. She was decidedly complete. His powerful frame divided her thighs as he smoothed callused hands over her breasts, thrusting into her with slow, precise strokes. She watched in fascination as his thick length slid into her, spreading her folds of flesh. His rigid cock was crimson with heat, and slick with her juices. She groaned at the visual of their joined bodies. She wanted him deeper, harder, faster.

  Her nipples beaded into tight points as a warm breeze from the open window caressed her overheated skin. He leaned forward to lick them in slow, lazy circles, bringing them to stiff tight peaks of need. He moved his hips upward with each thrust, making her swollen clit rasp against his cock in a delicious blend of movement and friction. Raising her hips she wound her legs around his waist. Tendrils of heat began to pool in her cunt, turning to molten lava as she rode the wave of her release. She cried his name as wave after shattering wave took over all thought but his hard cock bringing her to orgasm. “Brady ... Brady..."

  * * * *

  Melina Campbell woke with her soon-to-be ex-husband's name on her lips. Shaken and disoriented, she gasped for air. Her skin was flushed with heat, and her nightgown clung damply to her trembling body.

  In the inky black of night, she fought back her rising panic and burrowed deeper into the bed. Biting her lip, she struggled to combat the overwhelming loneliness that plagued her, whether awake or asleep, as of late. She rolled over, avoiding the empty side of the mattress. As if on cue, Redding padded across the carpeted floor with heavy footfalls. She felt the bed sag as his rotund body burrowed in beside her hip. She drifted back into a restless sleep, filled with disturbing images of slick, heated bodies and frantically elusive orgasms.

  * * * *

  Melina snuggled deeper into her old flannel bathrobe and slowly sipped her a.m. wakeup call. The old gingham checked couch hugged her with familiarity. There was a tranquility to the big old house that only early morning could bring. She shook off the remnants of last night's dream, clearing her muddled brain. Cold, gray light filtered through the big arched window at the front of the house. As the sun began to rise, she wearily cleared the cobwebs from her brain and mentally ticked off the checklist in her head. Was today the meeting with the tuna fish people? There had been so many as of late, they'd begun to blur. It would seem the tuna people were hard to please. She wrinkled her nose.

  She rose and stretched, her now much slimmer form protesting with creaks and groans. In search of a calendar, she padded across the floor, and smiled at the buttery shafts of light that danced across the gleaming hardwood, reminding her how much she loved this house. She felt the familiar twinge of regret that always accompanied thoughts of this house. Her house ... their house.Damn. She pushed those demons to the far recesses of her mind, where they would continue to stay for as long as her tenuous grip on reality could keep them at bay.

  Otis stirred from his nightly slumber on the oval braided rug in the center of the kitchen. She stooped to scratch his velvety golden ears. He thanked her in kind with wet, slurpy kisses, thumping his tail with gratitude. Redding jumped off his cushiony perch on the window seat by the breakfast nook and ambled across the kitchen. He wound his inky black tail around her ankles and purred softly. Melina scooped him up off the floor, rubbing his chin.

  She found the calendar hanging lopsidedly off the fridge, underneath the mess of notes to herself and magazine recipes she had clipped, but never got around to using. As she ran the pad of her thumb over the date, her brow furrowed and her eyes widened. Redding fell to the floor with a yowl.

  Had it been a year? It didn't seem possible. How did you forget the one fleeting moment when the world around you came to a screeching halt?

  Was selective memory how you pulled that off, or was it denial?

  Whatever you called it, she was good at it, and she wasn't about to give up the position. She grabbed the nearest chair at the scarred oak kitchen table, and sank into it. Melina's hands trembled, but she would not give in. She refused to allow herself to dwell on this day, and what had happened on this day, one year ago.

  * * * *

  Hells bells, it was cold! Blasts of frigid March air sent Melina hurrying across the paved walkway to her office.

  A rush of warm air greeted her as she thrust open the heavy double doors. Running a hand through her ever-tangled curls, she peeked around the corner into the outer office, and raised a hand in greeting to her secretary Joanne. Melina was running late, so she ignored Joanne's frantically waving hands.That's weird, not much gets Joanne's motor gunning. She held her hand up to her ear, signaling Joanne to buzz her in her office about whatever seemed to be so urgent.

  Dismissing it as due to her lateness, she set off down the hall toward her office. Melina had come a long way since she began at Zimmer's Advertising. Ten long years and finally she had the promotion she'd worked so hard for, and the office with a view to prove it.

  She stopped short at the heavy oak door with her name on it, feeling the satisfactory rush of accomplishment, and ignoring the hollow empty ache. Running her fingers over the bold black letters she sighed, almost too distracted to notice Alvin laying in wait.

  Melina slapped a smile on her face for Alvin's benefit. “Morning, Alvin,” she offered, rifling through the papers on her desk.

  Alvin, the quintessential geek, smiled at her from the front of her desk, his pasty coloring heightening a shade or two upon her entry. Plucking at his collar nervously, he cleared his throat, which meant he was going to ask her out again. She braced herself for impact.

  “Morning, Melina. You know,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, the gleam of hope in his watery brown eyes evident, “I was looking over the Collins account and thought maybe we could discuss it over drinks.” His words tumbled out in a rush while the color creeping up his neck darkened. She cringed inwardly. She had hoped to avoid this.

  “What's to discuss Alvin? I think we've covered nearly everything; all that's left are some small details and a bit of fine tuning. Nothing I can't handle from my end.” Melina's face started to hurt from smiling so hard. Alvin was a great guy and all, but well ... he was just a geek, no two ways about it. His suit was outdated, his glasses came from just after the caveman era, and that bald spot on his head might blind you if the lights were too bright. She felt like a first class schmuck for thinking it, too. Alvin was sweet, and kind, and she had been running from his advances since she and Brady had split up. This was a small town, and word had spread like wildfire about her pending divorce. It wasn't long before Alvin had come sniffing around, figuring her grieving period should be up, she supposed.

  “Oh Alvin, I don't think so, I ... well ... I...” She squirmed in her chair at Alvin's puppy dog eyes.God, the guilt .

  Alvin held up a hand. “It's all right Melina, you just need time is all, but I want you to consider me ready and waiting. Whenyou're ready of course...” He trailed off, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

  Melina turned around in her chair ready to make her excuses, and heard the sharp rap on her office door as it swung wide. When she caught sight of who it was, her mouth fell open. She clamped it shut; it was never attractive to be caught with one's mouth hanging open. A f
oreboding chill raced up her spine, and the air crackled with the abrupt silence. Brady broke the stillness with a cheerful nod in Alvin's direction.

  “Morning. You must be Alvin. Joanne said Melina was in a meeting with you. I'm Brady Campbell, Melina'shusband .” Accent on the husband.

  Brady's tanned outstretched hand reached across Melina to swallow Alvin's pasty one in a firm grip. He pumped Alvin's hand with enthusiasm. His blonde hair was wind tossed, falling over his forehead in tufts, that lent credibility to his boyish charm. He threw a fleeting, smug glance at Melina that said,Ta da, here I am .

  Don't break your arm patting yourself on the back, Bud, she thought. Brady put his Neanderthal-like, oversized, knuckle-dragging hand on her shoulder, and squeezed for emphasis. Melina twitched with outrage, shrugging the warmth of his hand away. Along with the zing of pleasure it aroused.Crap.

  “I realize I'm interrupting, but I need a moment withmy wife , if you don't mind.” His steady, deep tenor was like ice water down the shirt of an overheated back. Who the hell did he think he was? Melina mentally spewed every potty-mouthed word she could think of. Was he going to play hubby now, after all the damage he had done? Wasn't that just like him, to show up after the scattered bodies had been cleared away?

  His wife? That was the joke of the century. Boy, he had a set the size of church bells, didn't he?

  Brady smiled affably at Alvin, and gave him a reassuring thump on his back, dismissing him.

  Damn, he filled a room like no other man she knew, his mere presence commanding attention. She couldn't catch her breath from it; her heart raced wildly in her chest.

  Brady seemed to ignore the resentful tension in the air, and plunked himself down, right next to a very uncomfortable Alvin. Melina grabbed the cool metal arms of her chair with a steel grip, and narrowed her eyes. She gathered her wits and let her iron will kick in. Damn Brady Campbell for butting in now, after all this time.

  Two could play at this game—she wasn't Pricilla Watson's daughter for nothing. Mamma had taught her a thing or two about men.

  As though Brady had never insinuated himself into the room, she leaned toward Alvin over her desk, tossing her unruly whiskey curls over her shoulder. Displaying an ample amount of breast, she ran her tongue slowly over her lips. Alvin's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Her soft, full crimson lips tilted into a deliberate smile that never quite reached her eyes. A smile that at one time had been soft, and reserved only for Brady.

  “Brady,” she said in honeyed tones. “Thank you for stopping by, I know you're very busy.”With some cheap tramp no doubt... “But while I appreciate your dropping in, just now I really don't have time. Alvin and I have a meeting.” Alvin shot a confused look in her direction; she silenced it with a sly, seductive grin, hoping he wasn't too geeky to play along.

  “Oh well, it'll only take a minute or two,” Brady said rather cheerfully, through his fake smile. She wanted to grab his thick neck and choke him for all he was worth.

  “I don't have a minute, do I Alvin?” She cooed and sat back casually glancing at her watch.C'mon, Alvin. Pony up, baby. She sent him silent eye signals of desperation.

  Beads of sweat popped out on Alvin's forehead. He gulped. “Er, yes we were just on our way out Brady, for ... for...”

  “Coffee,” Melina blurted out. “Alvin and I have a date, don't we?” Alvin visibly brightened. Melina watched Brady's jaw work overtime.

  “Yes, coffee,” Alvin said. “Sorry, Brady, but it was a pleasure to meet you.” He turned to Melina. “Ready to go, Melina?” Alvin offered Melina his hand, and she grabbed on for dear life. Alvin's mouth swung open in surprise while Brady clamped his firmly shut.

  With a practiced air of haughtiness, she sauntered out of her office on the arm of a very speechless Alvin, leaving Brady in her dust.

  Chapter 3

  Ah, damn, damn, and triple damn.Melina's flushed cheeks burned with humiliation as she shoved open the office building doors. Her mind's eye sent daggers of death straight through Brady's black heart. She wanted to throw herself down on the ground of the office parking lot and have a good, old-fashioned temper tantrum. She would flail her arms and legs until they fell off her body. She caught her breath knowing full she wouldn't, or at least she hadn't so far.

  Who the hell did he think he was, strolling into her office as though he owned the joint, when she had heard but two words from him since she'd thrown his ass out? Transitory thoughts of painfully torturous acts came to mind. That's what Joanne had been trying to do, give her a heads up; Brady must have been lurking in the waiting area, ready to push his way in. Melina made her apologies to Alvin. She really did have a meeting with the tuna people.

  Now she had used poor Alvin. God, how utterly pathetic.

  Her ears pricked with the sound of heavy, booted footsteps crunching on the pavement from behind. She pumped her legs harder, her breath coming in quick gasps. Where the hell was that stupid dork mobile of hers anyway? Brady closed the distance between them in two long strides. He lunged for her arm and spun her around.

  “Damn it Melina, didn't you hear me calling you? I said wait!” The warm pressure of his hand seeped through her thick winter coat, as ripples of heat spiraled their way up her arm. The musky male scent that was all Brady permeated the glacial air. She noted that his flaxen hair needed a trim, and that fatigue bracketed his blue eyes. His muscled body exuded power, overwhelming her with his sheer masculinity. A flannel jacket accentuated his broad chest, and thickly muscled arms. Tight blue jeans hugged his sinewy thighs. Thighs she had once ... never mind that, damn it!

  Melina yanked her arm away and turned cool, questioning eyes on him, as she took a step backward, providing her with some much-needed space.

  “Don't you think we should talk about what's going on with us?” he demanded tightly. She snorted, watching his nostrils flare in exasperation.

  “I think we should have talked about it months ago, but as I recall, you were unavailable for comment.” Sarcasm laced her cool tone, but she kept it short and to the point, refusing to be baited.

  He shoved his hands in his pocket and shifted from foot to foot. “You're right, Melina,” he conceded. “That's a fair statement. But I'm here now, and I want to make this right.”

  “Gee, that's funny, Brady. I don't remember asking you to make anything right. Should the moment arise when your help is needed in the ‘making right’ department, trust me, I'll give you a ring.”

  He crossed his arms in front of his massive chest, which sent her a clear message: he wasn't backing down. “I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but there are things we need to discuss. And where the hell did Alvin come from?” He finished with an arrogant tilt to his fat head, his jaw twitching all the while.

  Melina gave that about half a second's consideration before she shot back. “Alvin is none of your concern. As for the rest of it, tell it to my lawyer.”

  * * * *

  Brady watched Melina's enticingly round backside grow smaller as she weaved in and out of the parked cars, putting as much distance between them as she could. He felt the ache of longing twist his gut into a knot.

  “Well that went over like moonshine at Sunday breakfast, Cowboy.” Literally out of thin air, Pricilla appeared, unruffled by the below-freezing temperatures, just itching to be the burr in his saddle. She hovered a few inches above ground level, under the winter-bare oak tree.

  “Didn't your mamma teach you to kill ‘em with kindness? You're always comin’ off all arrogant and defensive. Do you even know what day today is?” Pricilla paused and waited for his smart-aleck response. Brady stared at her in stony silence.

  “Try to remember, it's you that's the screw-up, and today is the day that marks that anniversary,” she gleefully pointed out.

  He closed his eyes and counted to ten, then opened them again. She wasn't going away. Wishful thinking.

  Brady took a hasty look around the parking lot. There was no way he'd get caught
talking to this nutty broad.

  “Only you can see me, Chucklehead.” Pricilla giggled. Sometimes this Angel gig was A-okay.

  Brady could have kicked himself for being so heavy-handed with Melina. He didn't possess a single diplomatic bone in his body. It was all he could do not to ram his fist down that asshole Alvin's throat, after seeing the obvious lust in his eyes. Those werehis breasts damn it, and nobody was ogling them except him! Melina's deliberate display of sauciness brought out the possessive streak in him. He had forfeited the right to claim any ownership over her, and he didn't need some smart-ass ghost of a mother-in-law to figure that out.Ghost, sheeit.

  It had been a year since he and Melina had shared more than the occasional terse greeting when they crossed paths. Not without lack of effort on his part, but she wouldn't have anything to do with him, and he hadn't tried very hard to change that. He'd been too busy drowning his misery in booze.

  He knew in his head he didn't have any right to lay claim to her, but his heart had a knee-jerk reaction where she was concerned. He felt misery wrap its black claws around his heart, and loneliness made his throat constrict painfully. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks, stealing his breath and robbing him of reason. A year ago today he had confessed the biggest mistake of his life to Melina. He ran a weary hand over his tired, hung-over eyes.

  Pricilla may well be able to read his thoughts, float, whatever. Anything was possible, he figured, but she couldn't help him. Not evenThe Man himself could help him now.

  * * * *

  Still shaking from her encounter with Brady, Melina felt the bitter taste in her mouth begin to dissolve as she pulled into her snow-covered driveway at sundown. She took comfort in the sight of her old rambling blue and white Victorian; the sprawling white planked porch was what had enticed her to plead with Brady to agree to buy it. He had joked about how useless it was to own a “new construction” company with so many resources, when his wife wanted big, old, fixer-uppers. She had known from first glance this would be their home, where they would raise children, and eventually grow old together. And together was how they had spent countless hours restoring it. Once she had taken great pride in the fact that she had re-finished that very porch.