Perfect Harmony by Sarah P. Lodge Read Free Book Online

have my money.  My purpose at this event
is complete.”
    “It’s not about money.  It’s about you - your image and your
charm.  Like with the speech, they want you to turn on that legendary charm to
the other guests.”
    “Legendary?” I say.
    She blushes.  A crooked smile forms on her lips. 
“Apparently.  Unless you call what you’ve saying to me all evening something
else?”
    I give her a sensual smile.  “And is it working?”
    She shakes her head, but her eyes are still lit up.  “Not
that it matters, anyway.”  She pokes my chest with her index finger. 
“Remember, you and me, that wasn’t the deal.  You said so yourself.”
    “Ah, yes.  Our delicious revenge scenario.  Have you seen
him yet, our man in question?”
    “No,” she says quietly.
    “He shall be grateful that the floor is carpeted.  Because,
when he sees you, he will fall to his knees.  Let us find him.”
    I grab her hand and we cross over to the dance floor and
enter the swaying throng.  All around us, happy couples laugh and dance, many
singing to each other in dulcet tones as they move across the dance floor.
    There was a time when I would have joined them.  I would
have taken Melody in my arms and pulled her body sensually against my own, as
we gyrated and swung to the seductive rhythm of the orchestra, and as the heat
of our pressed together bodies mingled between us, I would sing a song of sweet
seduction and sex, until she was in my bed.
    But that was the old me.  It has been over a decade since I
last sung, and I’ll gladly go another.  I sing for no woman.
    The head of the charity makes her way over to me from the
edge of the dance floor, gushing with praise.  From behind her, a regional
director shakes my hand and claps me on the back, and pours more thanks on to
me.  Amid the nodding heads and laughter, I see a queue forming of more well
wishes that stretches to the bar.  I zone out and give them all generic
gratitude acceptance - anything to reduce that damn queue.
    I’m happy to help the genuine charity members, but the line
between them and sycophants, heaping praise on to me to climb the social ladder
or hear their demo CD, blurs with every passing person.
    All I want to do is grab Melody and whisk her away into my
limo.  I want the car to thunder down the road and take us away from every
person here.  Not just here, even.  I want us to disappear off the face of the
earth, leaving everyone and everything behind.  Just her and I, together and
alone.
    But I can’t.  Melody was right - I had a duty to perform
here.  The well wishers may sap my endurance, but I’m a wealthy powerful man,
and that life comes with its own social burdens.
    If I’m going to be here, then at least I can find solace in
having Melody at my side.
    I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her.  She’s the
perfect height for me to cover her in an embrace.
    As I stand behind her, with my arms around her waist, her
hand holds my left wrist to her and she turns to me, a glint in her eye.
    She feels the comfort of my embrace.  It is so painfully
obvious to read in her look, as is everything else.
    But my idea of comfort is far more than a simple hug.  I’m a
grown man, with desire and wanting and need.
    People talk and chatter and nod, but I find myself
completely distracted by the feel of Melody’s ample breasts pressed against my
arms.  How her neckline is so low that her breasts swell almost to the point
where they spill out.  And the faint pebbling of her nipples thrusting into the
red fabric of her dress.
    She doesn’t have a bra on.
    I feel myself grow hard, stiffening more with every passing
second as I gaze at those beautiful perked nipples.
    I look up and see the other men are staring at her
cleavage.  They must also realise she’s wearing no bra, some lingering for
longer and longer just to get a peek.
    The bastards.  Can’t they see she’s mine?  I want to scream
at them to leave, to tell them to