Reaper's Fall

“Let me find you something clean to wear,” she said. “Then go upstairs and shower. Leave your things in the bathroom and I’ll take care of them. There’s a bedroom right across the hall—just make yourself comfortable. Sound good?”

Sounded like heaven.

• • •

Half an hour later, I was clean. The clothes Jamie gave me fit surprisingly well, and she’d even left a sandwich, chips, and an apple (cut up and everything, like I was a little kid) on the bedside table for me. I wolfed them down, then lay back on the bed for some much-needed rest.

I’d just started to drift off when my phone chimed.

MELANIE: How’s it going?

I considered just turning it off, letting myself sleep . . . but then I thought about her soft lips and sweet tits, and I woke right back up again.

ME: Good. Was up late last night. Wiped. How did the carnival go

MELANIE: They won’t be asking me to paint faces next year. Ive decided to count that as a win.

I smiled, thinking about those poor ladybugs of hers. They say love makes you blind, but nobody could be that blind. One of my first art teachers told me everyone has the power to paint something beautiful—obviously she’d never had Melanie Tucker in one of her classes.

ME: Thats prob for the best.

MELANIE: Hey—thought you were on my side

ME: I didn’t report you for crimes against humanity did I?

MELANIE: Ha ha. You suck.

ME: You have no idea . . . I’ll be heading back to CDA, prob get there late tonight. Want me to show you just how good I can suck?

She didn’t answer, and I smirked . . . then my cell chimed.

MELANIE: You should warn me before you text things like that. Jessica tried to steal the phone when she saw me blushing.

ME: You at home?

MELANIE: Yup. Working on a paper

ME: Go to your room

Would she take the bait? Long seconds passed. Nothing. The phone buzzed again.

MELANIE: I’m on my bed . . .

ME: What are you wearing?

MELANIE: Are you sexting me?

ME: Do you want me to?

MELANIE: I want everything

And suddenly those borrowed jeans weren’t fitting so well after all. I reached down, unbuttoning my fly.

MELANIE: I’m wearing a pair of boy-cut panties with lace insets at the side. Baby blue.

ME: What else?

Please say nothing, please say nothing . . .

MELANIE: That’s too easy ;) You first.

I looked down at my borrowed clothes, considering how to answer. Telling her that all I had on were castoffs because my own clothes were covered in a dead man’s blood seemed less than romantic.

ME: Jeans and a shirt. Not gonna lie—I opened my fly when you said you wanted everything.

MELANIE: Are you hard?

If I hadn’t been before, I sure as shit was now.

ME: Every time I talk to you.

MELANIE: Aren’t you just romantic?

ME: So what else are you wearing?

MELANIE: Whats it worth to you?

ME: Dinner at my place when I get back—I make truly excellent ramen

MELANIE: How about dinner at your place but I cook? I make excellent foods that aren’t ramen

ME: Deal. Now tell me what you’re wearing

MELANIE: Nothing . . . and my nipples are hard. I was rolling one of them between my fingers but then I had to stop. Texting you one handed is tough

Oh Jesus. The blood was rushing downward, taking my ability to think with it.

ME: Woulnd’ tmind a picture of tha

Fuck. I’d lost the ability to type, too, and not even autocorrect could save me. This girl was dangerous. Reaching inside my briefs, I caught my cock, giving it a rough squeeze. If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine it was her hand instead of mine. I would never—for the rest of my life—forget the instant her tongue touched me the first time. She’d been so hesitant, so careful . . . Turned me on and drove me crazy, because it wasn’t enough. I’d had to teach her how to do it harder.

My girl was a damned fast learner, too.

MELANIE: I don’t send pics to strange men.

Goddamn it. She was right, of course. Stupid to send pictures, especially to a known asshole like myself.

ME: Guess I’ll just have to use my imagination. I know a way you won’t have to stop touching yourself to talk to me . . . call?

That was it. I waited for a minute, then another, imagining Mel playing with her nipples . . . fingering her pussy . . . Now there was a pretty picture. I hooked my thumb under the waistband of my briefs, lifting my hips so I could push them down. Then I grabbed my cock again, jacking it slowly as I waited for her to respond.

The phone rang.

“Hey you,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Please tell me you’re still naked?”

Melanie giggled. “Well, I’m not totally naked—still have my panties on. I feel kind of silly doing this.”

“Don’t,” I told her, dead serious. “This is right up there near the top on my Dirty Fantasies About Melanie List.”

“You have a fantasy list about me?” she asked, her voice catching. Shit, did she think I was a perv? Probably. Made sense that she would, because I definitely qualified.

“While I was in prison,” I admitted. “Thought about you all the time. Been thinkin’ about you from the first day we met, although I tried to keep it under control. Then they locked me up and you started writing. Once you sent me a picture, I was fucked. Decided I’d best roll with it at that point.”

“So what sorts of things did you fantasize about?” she asked, her voice lower. Huskier. My fingers slowed, sliding upward to catch the sensitive skin right below my dick’s head. Shit, that was good. Her tongue would be even better.