Novels by Melanie Writes

I reached for the hem of his shirt first.Calvin leaned back just enough to let me pull it up and over his head. The second it was gone my hands went to his chest, feeling the warm solid muscle under his skin. He watched my face while I touched him, eyes dark, breathing already heavier. When I pushed at the waistband of his sweatpants he lifted his hips and helped me get them down. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the head already slick. I wrapped my hand around him without thinking and felt him twitch in my grip.“Fuck,” he muttered. “Careful.”I stroked him once, slow, learning the weight of him. He let me do it for a few seconds before he caught my wrist and pinned it gently to the bed. He kissed me again, deeper this time, and settled between my thighs. The hot length of him slid against me, rubbing through the wetness there, and both of us made a sound at the contact.

He didn’t stop.A second finger pressed inside me alongside the first, stretching me open in a way that made my stomach tighten. I kept my eyes closed and my body loose even though every nerve felt lit up. He worked both fingers slowly, curling them just enough to make the pleasure spark sharper, while his thumb kept rubbing steady circles over my clit.“Christ, you’re soaked,” he muttered under his breath. “Been lying here getting wet for me this whole time?”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth I was going to make a sound I wouldn’t be able to take back.His free hand slid up under my camisole and pushed the thin fabric up toward my collarbones. The cool air touched my bare breasts for a second before his mouth closed over one nipple. The heat of it pulled a shocked jolt straight through me. He sucked slowly, thoroughl

**Liana Pov**The house felt wrong without them in it.After my mother and Richard left, the quiet settled over everything like a weight. No background noise from the television downstairs. No low voices in the kitchen. Just the sound of the refrigerator humming and the occasional creak of the floorboards when one of us moved.I stayed in my room for most of the day. I tried to study. I answered a few messages. I made a short video call with a friend and pretended everything was normal while she talked about her weekend plans. The whole time I was aware of Calvin somewhere else in the house — existing in the same space, not speaking to me, not looking for me.By late afternoon the restlessness got bad enough that I went downstairs for water.He was already in the kitchen.Calvin stood at the sink with a glass in his hand, drinking. He glanced over when

*(Liana’s POV)*The door clicked shut behind him.I stayed perfectly still until I was sure he had gone back to his own room. Only then did I let out the breath I had been holding and open my eyes. The ceiling was a dark blur above me. My heart was still racing.My breast still tingled where his hand had been. Between my legs I was wet — uncomfortably so — and the ache there was sharp enough that I had to press my thighs together against it. I had wanted him to go further. For a few dangerous seconds I had almost pushed my hips up into his hand just to see what he would do. The only thing that stopped me was the same fear as always.If he knew I was awake, he would stop.He always stopped. He touched me like he couldn’t help himself, whispered things he would never say in the light, and then left before it could turn into something he had to

*(Calvin’s POV)*The house had been quiet for almost an hour.I sat on the edge of my bed in the dark with my elbows on my knees, staring at the connecting door like it had done something to me. I told myself the same thing I always did. Don’t go in. Leave her alone. You’ve already crossed the line too many times.It never worked.During the day it was easier to keep myself in check. I could be cold. I could answer her in short sentences and look past her at breakfast and pretend the sound of her voice didn’t sit under my skin. She probably thought I disliked her. Sometimes I let her think it. It was safer that way. If she hated me, she wouldn’t look at me the way she sometimes did when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. She wouldn’t make it harder.At night there was no one to perform for.I stood u

I've been living in this house for a year and seven months.Sometimes it still doesn’t feel real. One day my mother was single and we were sharing a small apartment with thin walls, and the next she was marrying a man who owned a house with a staircase that curved and a backyard that actually had grass. His name was Richard. He was polite, older, and quiet in a way that made my mother soft. He had one son.Calvin.The first time I saw him properly was at the wedding reception. He was standing near the bar in a dark suit, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. He was twenty-four then. I was nineteen. He shook my hand when our parents introduced us and his palm was warm and dry and he barely looked at me. I remember thinking he was cold. I also remember the way my stomach tightened when he finally did glance down at me, just once, before looking away again.That feeling never really left.