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Beckett’s mouth fell open as he gasped.
I slapped my hand over my own mouth, unable to believe what I was watching, what I was stuck watching.
Okay, maybe stuck was the wrong word. I could totally look away. Oh, dear Lord. Why wasn’t I looking away? I spun around because that was the right thing to do; I shouldn’t be watching this. But then I could still hear the quiet suction of Melody’s mouth and the rising of Beckett’s breathing. So I transferred my hands from my mouth to over my ears.
Three seconds later, I felt like a total moron for standing in a bathroom with my hands over my ears. I slowly removed them, and the silence that followed unnerved me. Panic welled. What if they were done and heading to the bathroom to clean up now? I whirled around to check.
Nope, Melody was still going at it.
And Beckett continued to seem confused by the whole thing. He shook his head and gaped down at the top of Melody’s head. “Melody,” he tried again, grasping her shoulder. “This really isn’t—” But she did something to make him grunt away his protest and grip his own hair with his free hand. Then she grasped his other hand he’d had on her shoulder and physically pinned his fingers to the bed as her head made this up and down motioned away from and toward his lap.
He whimpered out the last of his resistance before letting his torso fall backwards onto the bed and moaning, “What the fuck is happening?”
I almost felt sorry for him. I mean, he was trying—failing spectacularly, but still trying—to tell this Melody idiot no, and she was totally ignoring him. It kind of made me want to pop out of the bathroom and pull her off him by the hair, muttering, “Are you deaf, honey? He doesn’t want this.”
But then, he stopped complaining and was now just letting it happen, even lifting his hips toward her face and breathing harder, muttering a couple, “shits” and “Oh, Jesuses.”
I turned away again, feeling hot and ashamed, only to turn back, equal parts curious and gawker-horrified. Only to turn away again. After going through this routine a few more times, practically spinning in a circle with my indecision over whether to keep watching or not, I decided I needed to know when they were finished in order to best plan my escape, so I watched.
“God, you taste good.” Melody lifted her face to grin at him as if refreshed. After wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she lifted her skirt up to her waist, shimmied a pair of thong panties over her hips until she was flashing her bare butt my way, and then kicking them off. Shocked by her audacity, I backed away from the crack, freshly stunned by what I was watching, only to step forward again, shamefully unable to stop looking.
Melody climbed onto the mattress over Beckett. “It’s got me so wet, baby. I want to feel you come inside me.”
My mouth fell open as she settled right over his lap and her skirt fell back down around her, thank God covering her bare bits from my peeping Tom eyes.
Beckett started to sit up, slurring, “But I don’t—”
“Shh.” Melody set her hand against his chest, pushing him right back down onto his back. “It’s okay. I have everything covered, even protection.”
And she pulled a condom from her cleavage.
Beckett seemed to panic, looking around the walls as if searching for something to help him, to save him. “Jesus, Melody. I don’t even know whose room this is.”
She giggled and cooed, “Doesn’t that make it so much more exciting?” as she tore open the package with her teeth.
The condom disappeared from my view as she obviously put it on him. I bit my lip, wondering what I should do. Should I help him? Stop this right here? Make her behave?
My skin crackled with anxiety. I was already highly uncomfortable from being forced to stay in here while something that private and intimate was going on right on the other side of the mostly open door, but something about Beckett’s reactions were telling me he didn’t want to have sex with her. My gut churned, not sure what I should do.
But then it was too late. She lowered herself onto his lap, and they both groaned. He gripped her hip, his fingers digging into the cloth of her skirt.
She moaned and began to move…fast. Like that ridiculous bouncing you see on movies. I turned away and pressed my hand to my mouth. Behind me, Melody cried, “Yes. Yes. Yes,” making me wrinkle my nose and grimace from the absurdity of it all. “I knew you’d feel this good. Oh God… Beck.”
I rolled my eyes. But really? She sounded so freaking fake. She had to be putting on a stupid, lying show because, how could it possibly feel that—
“Jesus…Christ,” Beckett bit out, making me turn back to look again, because his voice sounded too appealing for me to stay away. And yeah, despite what was happening, appealing was totally the right word to explain him. In the throes of pleasure, he was magnificent. Arching his neck back so I could see the straining muscles in his throat tighten like cords, he lifted his face with a rapture that seemed to coil through me as if I were experiencing it with him. Then he hissed, “It’s been too long since I did this. Fuck. Harder. Go rougher.”
Melody changed her speed, not focusing so much on speed but the force with which she slammed down onto him, and I jerked away from the crack to stop watching, feeling like the dirty voyeur I was. My cheeks heated with shame and embarrassment. What was worse, my nipples hardened, which I totally blamed on my shirt and bra that Beck had spilled beer on and left cold and wet and not on the fact I was listening to sex sounds.
I guess Beckett—the bucket head—didn’t want saving after all. The stupid boy. How dare he make me feel as if he’d needed me to do something for him?
Humiliated because I’d actually wanted to stop her for him, I sent a sharp glare toward the crack in the door as Melody’s moaning became obnoxious. “Yes. There. Right there. Don’t stop. Oh, fuck, you really are as good as Jana said you were. Beck! if feels so fucking good.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and would’ve sniffed moodily if I hadn’t been worried it’d give my presence away.
If I’d wanted to listen to this kind of nonsense, I would’ve just stayed home and eavesdropped on Tess or Paige. Though honestly, I’d never actually heard either of my roommates getting it on with their boyfriends. I bet they didn’t sound like a calf being slaughtered when they came, though, not like Melody did.
She was really carrying on now. Whatever Beckett was doing right there, it was good. Real good. It made me ache a little in the center of my chest, and wish someone would touch me in the right spot and make me—
