Page 25 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

Chapter fourteen

A Man In Finance

" I ndependence?" I say sarcastically with a smile, reaching over to slide on my sunglasses then handing her a matching feminine pair I keep just for her. "What an overrated concept."

She gifts me with a rather offended look as she slides them on. "I'm sure it is for you, having had it for what… sixteen years now?"

I frown. "Technically twelve. I just turned thirty, Mel, get it right."

"Same difference."

I cut my eyes to her. "You know, that explains your math grade a lot."

Melody hums a sound in her throat, and it travels straight to my cock making it jerk in my pants. I take a deep breath, seriously regretting not allowing myself an orgasm this morning. I thought I could wait. The breath I just took made it worse.

My lungs fill with the orange notes of her new perfume, and all I can think about is burying my face in between her legs and kissing her in the crook of her knee where I instinctively know her smell is deeper, sultrier.

"You know as well as I do that you'll never have full independence, sweetheart," I say quietly, working to pass a car in front of me. They honk, flipping me off, but I ignore them. "Do you need me to elaborate?"

I keep the car steady on the lane; however, the sight of her brown eyes over her sunglasses draw me back in.

She meets them for half a second before turning away shyly again, staying quiet.

I stare for a minute, willing her to come back to me, but all too soon my eyes are dragging back down her body to where every fucking inch of her legs are on display.

Torturing me.

My fingers flex on the gear stick as I shift my weight in the seat, willing this goddamn erection I've had on and off since this morning down. Distracting myself from her taut muscles and smooth gleaming dark tan skin, I look in the rearview mirror again. The skyscrapers of the bustling city recede in the background as we head towards my parents’ house, a place that, until recently, had been like a prison to me.

Melody and I don't belong there with them .

We belong back there. Where there's hustle and bustle, and where we can climb to the highest building and look down, safe with each other in the clouds where no one can touch us.

"Another guy I was talking to went missing…" she says, now bringing her eyes to mine. The air immediately shifts in the car, becoming stifling and tense.

"Did they?" I force myself with everything in me to keep my tone calm and unassuming.

"Yeah," she says. "He's disappeared straight off the face of the Earth.

No socials. None of his friends know where he is or what happened.

Just like the other four." She looks back out the window, her fingers clenched so hard around her clutch that her knuckles turn pale.

"He's the fifth guy since I've been in school that this has happened to.

No one's going to want to date me now because I'm cursed. "

I make a fake sympathetic hum in my throat as a rush of pleasure flows through me so thick that a drop of pre-come drips from the tip of my cock, wetting my thigh.

Though she's obviously bothered, I refuse to acknowledge anything she just said. A tense silence swells around us once more as I make the turn onto the paved drive of my parents’ property.

We amble through the gate, and I move my hand over to grab hers and pull it over to me.

I kiss the back of her hand, letting my lips linger as I take the time to enjoy the scent I bought for her. Her natural chemistry mixes with it to create something deeper. Slightly muskier, turning innocence into something sexy and forbidden. I wait for her to pull back from me, but she doesn't.

She never does .

"I'd like you to wear that scent more often. You smell so good," I say quietly, wanting to break the silence, giving her a little more than I usually do. Being a bit more openly verbal with my desire towards her.

"Thanks." Her voice quivers a little. "But you're not letting me take it home, so I can only wear it when I'm with you."

Exactly. "Hmhm," I say, already planning to have a talk with Hendrix because I'm through waiting.

I think I've beyond proved myself to my family.

I pull up behind all the other family members’ cars right as the last rays of sun disappear and all the lights around the property pop on.

The trees around us light up, the fountain gurgles, and I see my mother has decorated it with Melody's favorite flowers.

It's an explosion of lush colors entwined with greenery that would put any party planner to shame.

"Aw, it's so pretty!" Melody gushes, stepping closer and touching one of the flowers. I pluck it off and hand it to her.

Her fingers graze mine gently as she takes it, and that familiar spark tugs at me once again. I know I'm not the only one who feels this.

Placing a hand on her lower back, I lead us to the stairs but stay a step down to watch her legs in this dress. I tug at my collar, feeling extra warm, and be sure to fix my face when we arrive on the landing together and push through the front door.

Soft instrumental music greets us first, along with the warmth of my parents’ home.

Muted sounds of our family talking and laughing drift from the den to the foyer, informing me they're knee deep in having a good time.

So good, I wonder if we even had to show up.

Theoretically, I could be deep in something myself.

Knuckle deep.

My parents’ butler appears out of thin air, interrupting my thoughts of sliding my fingers in Melody's pussy. "Your jacket, sir? "

"Sure thing, Jefferies." I shrug out of it and then undo my cuff links, sliding them into my pants pocket.

I spend a second rolling up my sleeves to my elbow, undoing my tie, leaving the two pieces hanging down.

I'm in the middle of undoing the first couple buttons when Melody clears her throat, bringing my attention to her. "Yes, Mel?"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I grin. "A guy can't get comfortable?"

She rolls her eyes. "You rushed me half to death so you could take your time spraying perfume on me and then undressing in your parents’ foyer? Got it."

I smile. "Such an attitude. Why do you only ever show it with me?" I ask, knowing as soon as we get in the den, Melody's going to withdraw into herself like she always does. It's not that she doesn't like them; she's just more like me. Doesn't fit in. Isn't as sure of herself like the others are.

A sentiment I can sympathize with. Because I was a late bloomer, too. Never knowing which direction to go in, never knowing how to trust myself and my instincts.

It took me years to gain confidence in myself. A byproduct of being a younger sibling. Sometimes I wonder if that month I spent helping Melody through the trauma of Isobel being kidnapped meant as much to her as it did me.

Hours I'd spent feeding her, holding her, sitting with her in silence. Letting her cry on me. Wiping her tears away.

The hundreds of Hail Marys I've said over this girl probably needs a case study.

They say everything happens for a reason, and though I'll never tell any of them because it's fucking selfish and wrong as fuck to say, I firmly believe that Isobel going through that kidnapping was the catalyst to my personality change. And Melody .

I'm not ashamed to admit to myself that a woman woke my ass up out of the deep pit of spite I'd been stewing in for years, until she came along.

Nurturing her through that month finally broke something inside me that they all spent years trying to chip away at.

It made me realize that I could trust myself, if I just allowed myself to be vulnerable instead of spiteful.

It took some time, but eventually my displeasure with Hendrix and my family morphed into camaraderie.

And the harder I worked, that camaraderie turned into respect.

"I don't just show it with you," she retorts in a sassy tone, tilting her chin up and looking away.

"Yes, you do." I chuckle, fixing my watch. When I'm sure that I'm put together comfortably I step into her and then place my hand on her lower back and press.

"No, I don't," she whispers at me defiantly.

"Stop talking back," I say, pressing my lips to her temple in a hard kiss. "And let's try to enjoy your birthday with them."

"I'm not talking back!"

I ignore her as we walk into the den, and everyone looks up, greeting us with bright smiles.

"Melody! Happy Birthday, honey!" My mother jumps up and almost rushes over to us where she pulls Melody in for a hug.

I haven't asked, but she acts like Melody's her favorite out of all of us, almost always managing to get to Melody before her own mother does.

I stand next to her while everyone comes up and takes turns giving her a hug and their congratulations.

When Hendrix walks up, he gives me a look while he's bent down hugging her, and I roll my eyes.

"Study," he says .

Before he even gets the last syllable out I'm already headed that way, giving my dad a back clap on the back en-route to the study. Walking past the side table laden down with presents, I step through the heavy ornate oak door and meander over to the drinks cart next to the roaring fireplace.

I'm busy making the both of us a drink when Hendrix steps in.

"We need to talk, Mase," he says.

I clench my jaw as I grab up our glasses and take a swallow of mine while I hand him his. He sits down on the leather chair our father usually sits in and crosses an ankle over his knee, assessing me.

My skin doesn't prick like it normally does when I'm being scrutinized. No, things like that don't hardly get under my skin anymore. Instead, I sit across from him, right on the table and lean forward with my elbows on my knees. "About what?"

"You know what."

"Sorry for being an asshole." I clear my throat, tipping my drink up and swallow, relishing the slight burn. "I know what. I just don't understand what there is to talk about."