Page 78 of Melancholia

Just like I wanted.

That’s the thought that truly makes my mind fuzzy in a way I’m not used to, and a way I utterly love as soon as it takes over.

When Amir moves, I barely notice. When he gently tugs me off his cock, my eyes flutter open to gaze up at him, still hazy and a little unfocused.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, easily guiding me to stand. “Already so perfect for me, aren’t you? So out of it just from warming my cock. Let me help you with these, Nell.” I feel his hands on my shorts, tugging them down over my thighs until I can step out of them. I’m not wearing anything underneath, but if he has thoughts about that, he doesn’t voice them. He just runs his hands up my thighs before guiding me to straddle him, my knees on either side of his lap.

“Couldn’t take it anymore, my pretty little doll,” he admits, having a one sided conversation that doesn’t seem to bother him. “Your mouth is so sweet, so warm…but you know how much I love your cunt.” He tugs off my T-shirt as easily as if I really am a doll, and tosses it somewhere near the foot of the couch. His hands run up my sides, his eyes wandering down my body.

“Just like that,” he breathes, urging me to sink down onto him. I gasp a little at the feeling of his cock pushing against me; without any prep and only the wetness from my mouth, it’s a stretch for me to take him.

But somehow, that just makes this more perfect.

“Shhh, shhh. You can take it,” he urges softly. “Take it like the perfect girl I know you are. All of it.” His hands are gentle yet firm, and he never lets me stop until I’m sitting on his lap with his cock buried in my body. A low sound leaves me—something between a whine and a whimper—and when he pulls me forward, I very happily curl against him with my arms around his shoulders.

“Just like that.” He rolls his hips into me, his hands tight around me, keeping me pressed to him. As Amir fucks me, it feels less like I’m a part of it, and more like I’m just his toy. Even as he murmurs in my ear, calling me his doll, his pretty thing, it only makes it better. Only makes me more and more eager to grind down against him every time he thrusts up into me.

“Careful, little doll,” Amir murmurs on the heel of a gasp. “You’re getting a little bold for being my toy.”

Fuck, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but I gasp and press my mouth to the side of his neck with a murmured apology. His hands remain firm on me, and he doesn’t stop. He’s slow and methodical, taking his time like this is all about him.

And it is. I want it to be. The last thing I want is to be a decision-making person right now. I want this. Him.

I never want him to leave.

“Amir…” I gasp when he brushes that same spot inside me over and over, making me see stars. “Oh, fuck. Amir, please—” I have no idea how long it’s been. Minutes? Hours? I don’t know how long I was on my knees in front of him, or how long he’s been fucking me, rocking me on his lap with gentle, languid strokes. But I’m shuddering around him, thighs tense, arms gripping him as he fists a hand in my hair so he can more easily turn and bite down on my neck.

Without a word, he sucks a mark onto the side of my throat. I can feel it in the way he sets his teeth against my skin, just how deep the bruise will be. Just how distinct. He’s marking me like property, and I’ve never in my life found anything to be hotter than that. My whimpers get louder, my hands tremble against his chest, and before I can say anything, I’m coming around him, body gripping him greedily as I ride out my orgasm with Amir still fucking me.

“My perfect girl,” he croons in my ear, his steady rhythm faltering. “When you grip me like that, my perfect girl—” He shudders against me. “You aren’t giving me much choice. Fuck—” The curse is a breath on his lips as he holds my hips hard with both hands, dragging me down against his lap to drive into me one last time.

I can feel his heart racing beneath my hand on his chest as he comes, and I let my eyes slide shut again, feeling every single beat of his heart and every swallow of his throat.

When he finishes, he doesn’t stand up or urge me to. In fact, his arms settle around my waist, and he keeps me on his lap. With my head on his shoulder, my eyes drift closed again.

His perfect doll. For however long he wants me.

29

“We don’t have to do this. You, specifically, don’t have to do this, my love.” It isn’t the first time Amir has used that term of endearment for me, but fuck if it doesn’t make something warm and perfect curl in my stomach all the same.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I need to do this. Not for them. Jus-just for me, I think.”

But when he wraps an arm around my waist, I pull him in close, savoring the warmth of him behind me. Amir kisses the top of my head and follows me into the little office halfway between us and Michigan, which took us a grand total of eight hours to drive to.

The only saving grace is the sketchy museum of human bones we passed, and Amir promised that while it’s definitely a front for killers, he’ll happily take me there on our way home. That’s the driving force that has me able to walk up the freshly stained deck with its uneven floorboards and into the office of Brooks and Leo, where Mr. Waters had assured me he borrowed space for the day.

Office is a strong word, I realize as I take a step into the converted mobile home. Not that it isn’t cozy, but the space is crammed full to the brim, and I have to take a minute to locate the open door to what was probably supposed to be a guest bedroom.

Mr. Waters looks too big for the space, like he’s stuffed behind the wooden desk, his pudgy hands gripping a pen that he’s using to sign some papers with a flourish. He’s not what I was expecting, and I stand there for a moment, taking him in.

This is the man my father trusted with his will. The man who’s been trying to call me for weeks about my father’s death.

Mr. Waters glances up and smiles, though the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. “Mornin’,” he greets in a feigned Midwestern accent. “Glad to see you made it okay. As you can see, things are a bit…small in here.” He glances around suspiciously, like he thinks the walls might cave in at any moment. “But I won’t judge if you won’t.” His laugh is just as fake as the rest of him, and I offer him a polite smile before sitting down gingerly across from him in the less than comfortable chair.

“No offense, Mr. Waters, but I’d really like to get this over with.” But I still extend my hand over the desk to meet his, nearly recoiling at the moistness of his clammy palm. “My dad and I haven’t been close in a long time. I really don’t know why he left me anything.”

“Maybe he was remorseful at the end .Many people want to make amends for what they’ve done.” He offers me a pained smile I don’t return, then glances up at Amir before extending a hand to him as well. “I don’t believe I caught your name, Mr.…?” he trails off, obviously expecting an answer.