by Neal, Xavier
“Yeah.”
“Milk? Cheese?” She nods. “Whatever it is that makes stuff turn to sauce?”
“Flour?”
“Yes.” I point. “Failed home-ec forgetting that shit.”
Almost as if she's impressed, she leans against the counter and looks up at me, eyes shimmering. “You took home-ec?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Any idea how easy it is pick up chicks when you're one of three dudes in that class? Not to mention the hottest?”
Grinning she starts to chortle. “You are unbelievable...”
“I always hoped you'd say that in different circumstances, but for now, I'll take what I can get.” When her eyes flash the passion I'm anxious to see more of, I sigh, willing my hard on away. “Let's make some mac and cheese...”
“Let's do it.”
A lesson to the wise. Do not pop a hard on near an open flame. Burning the tip of your dick is a fucked up thing to have to learn the hard way. Just...take my advice. With that said, don't do something to make your husband or boyfriend pop one while he's boiling water. That's fucked up...
Melody and I work together to make the dish from scratch. She explains cooking fundamentals.
Like why the pasta I felt was done, wasn't actually done. It just would've been a little extra hard. Who's ever complained about an added crunch?
While she stirs the noodles, observing them like a child that needs constant supervision, I grate the cheese, snacking between bites even when she fusses at me not too. Annoyed by my eating she abandons her post to pop me on the hand. As soon as she does, I grab her fingers, angle us so our backs are hidden to the camera and bring her fingers to my lips kissing each individual one. The sweet notion isn't lost. In fact it's rewarded with soft purrs and innocent whimpers.
Melody slides away from me to return to her task. Eventually, we combine everything, create the sauce between playful kitchen duels, and toss it in the oven creating more of a pasta bake than boring mac and cheese.
For the record, nothing wrong with boring mac and cheese. It is the perfect solution when all your favorite fast food joints are closed at 3 a.m. And you need post sex sustenance.
While waiting for it to finish cooking, Melody hops her body up on the counter. Unable to stay away like some sort of bug to a bright light I know could be my demise, I move myself to her. Standing between her spread legs, I gently stroke her calves.
I know I shouldn't, but I love touching her. Her skin is soft and sensual. Flawless.
With her eyes lingering in mine she asks, “What do you miss most besides your family?”
There's no hesitating. “Bertha.”
“Bertha?”
I nod.
“Is that...Is that a girl you slept with regularly?”
Chuckling I help fleeting tension by continuing to rub her lovingly. “Bertha's my bike.”
“Your motorcycle?” When I nod she lifts her eyebrows. “You named her Bertha?”
“Don't judge...”
You either.
Melody covers her giggles with her cupped hands.
“Bertha is a beast,” I explain. “She's been my old lady for a while. Daniel, Destin, and I got matching bikes at the same time. Spent late nights customizing them so they were perfect fits.”
“How'd you pick the name Bertha?”
I give her a short shoulder shrug. “She spoke to me. Gave her one look when I was finished and I heard a voice in my head say Bertha.”
Melody giggles harder. “That's pretty funny.”
“Bertha can handle some of the craziest tricks. Always cradles me perfect when I stand on her.”
Shock shoots out of her. “You stand on her?”
“Oh yeah,” I casually inform. “Stand. Pop wheelies. Burn outs. Some crazy shit you wouldn't even believe me if I told you. I don't do it much anymore, that's more Daniel's scene, but I can and Bertha takes good care of me when I do.”
“That’s insane...”
“Tell me something about being a McCoy that isn't?”
She smiles sweetly.
“What about you?” I redirect the question. “What do you miss?”
Her finger slips into her mouth.
Can my dick switch places with it?
Casually I adjust my crotch.
“Holidays.”
“Holidays?”
“Yeah. They were one of the only times in my house where I really got to spend time with my mom. Most places were closed or gave her the day off, so they didn't have to pay her time and half. We'd bake cookies for the occasion. Cuddle on the couch. Drink milk and eat them while watching a holiday special. It wasn't ever anything extravagant. When my dad overdosed, his side of the family alienated us. Some blamed my mom. Some blamed me-”
“You were just a kid.”
“I was 'too much' work for him.” Her fingers roll around the end of her braid. “Anyway, my mom was an only child, my grandparents were in Canada. Outside of Christmas they rarely spoke. We couldn't afford to go see them, so...we made due with just the two of us.”
Offering her a faint smile I say, “If it makes you feel any better when I was little there were tons of us and never enough presents.”
She sighs, “It wasn't about the presents. It was about having family. I wished for a bigger family, but made due with what I had. I guess, I don't miss holidays themselves as much as family.”
I press both my hands on the counter, one on each side of her legs. “With me, I promise you'll always have family.”
Melody fights against her instinct to deny. “Promise?”
“Promise,” I repeat. “They're loud. Pushy. Obnoxious as fuck sometimes. Invasive. But they're loving. And they'll learn to love you just like I'm learning too.”
Panic soars into her eyes.
Oh no. Shit! Shit! Shit! Is there some sort of I love you rule? Why are you laughing at me? Do I look like I know this shit? I haven't even been on a date that didn't end in sex in...you know what? Never mind. Ignore that. How bad did I just screw this up?
The oven timer dings and grabs our attention. Taking a couple steps back, I move out of her way. Tempted to say something else, I rub my mouth instead, preventing my foot from further going into it.
She pulls out the dish and allows it time to cool while settling the plates with the fresh cut cucumber, tomato, and feta cheese salad she made.
It's not that Knox doesn't cook shit for us that's impressive, it's just impressive in a different way. More like a mass production sort of way. When you're feeding six boys...eventually six men, it becomes more about mass quantity first, high quality second.
I insist on filling the water glasses while she carries our food to the patio area where the cameras are easier to hide from.
Even left my mess all over the table to insure we could have some alone time. Crafty I know. Remember that when it comes time to escape.
As soon as both glasses are filled, I prepare to transfer them both when I notice the veins under my tatted wrist seem bluer than normal. Unsure if that's just a side reaction to the pain killers that are working miracles on my muscles or if something else is wrong, I let it roll off and rush off to my date.
That's right. It's now a date. A romantic picnic under the stars. Whoever said you can't date while being kidnapped, obviously has never met a McCoy.
On the patio floor, I set the glasses down on top of the blanket. Once I'm settled beside her, I wrap one arm around her lower back. She leans into my embrace.
Out here is almost as safe as the bathroom.
The two of us eat in silence for a few moments, the night singing praises for it's arrival from various creatures. While I know it's wrong to enjoy so much of this moment in which I'm supposed to be fearing for my life, I let it happen anyway. I soak up everything I can about Melody. I stain it all to memory.
“Drew,” her voice meekly calls to me.
Just the sound of her lips letting my name slip out has my di
ck rising to the occasion. “Yeah, baby?”
“What if this is all we get?”
Bemused by the question, I ask, “What?”
“What if this is all we get? What if we don't get to escape? What if we don't get to finish that never ending list of things you want us to do together? What if all we get are these few moments in this house, in the middle of fucking nowhere?” Suddenly her blue eyes look up innocently. “Can that be enough for you?”
The question seems loaded. There seems to be one little fact, she's not telling me that I can't put my finger on. I want to push. I want to know what it is. The more information she can give me, the better more accurate of an escape I can make.
Desperation covers her words. “I need that to be enough for you.”
“Melody!” A booming voice that is starting to make me hate more than before spreads through the house. “Melody!”
Flustered, she stands with her plate just as the door slides open. “Why are you yelling?”
“Why are you eating outside?”
She nonchalantly points. “You see the kitchen table?”
Omar glares at me before he looks back at her. “The living room is broken?”
“I don't like vacuuming any more than you do.” By the expression on his face, he buys her reasoning. “Fair. I need a favor.”
“You need a favor?”
Keeping my back turned to them, as if I'm not listening, I pick up my dishes.
“Yeah. I uh....have a medical condition I need a fix for.”
“Your rash is back,” Melody announces.
He grumbles, “Yeah. It's worse than before.”
“I told you to stop sleeping with her,” she scolds. “Her pussy is going to kill you.”
My teeth clamp down on my tongue.
That gives an entirely different meaning to killer pussy. You're laughing too, huh? I see that smirk.
“Why aren't you using EA?”
“Don't...don't do that,” Omar snaps. “Just fix me.”
Lifting my dishes I announce, “I'm gonna wash these.”
“Just leave 'em,” Mel insists. “I'll wash 'em.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She tugs at her braid. “Go ahead and rest or shower...”
“Yeah you've got clay by your eyebrows,” Omar adds.
Told you I fucking hate clay.
I nod and stroll past them dropping my dishes in the sink. My eyes give Melody one more glance before heading for my room on the opposite side of the house.
No. These moments aren't enough for me and I know they aren't enough for her, but fear is a motherfucker. Especially if that's all you've known for so long. Soon enough she'll see there's nothing to fear. Soon she'll see The Devil on his knees before he's executed.
Melody
Lying in bed, I continue to stare up at the dark ceiling.
I can't do it. I can not sneak across the house and into bed with him. That's a terrible idea! It's beyond terrible! It's...it's...it's whatever is beyond terrible.
In another attempt to fall asleep, I close my eyes, visions of shirtless Drew parading across my eyelids. I want to battle the images almost as much as I want more of them. The image drops his pants revealing to me the long stiff member with a pierced crown I peaked at days ago. Helplessly I whimper while my pussy tightens, eager to feel him. Eager to feel that barbell rub inside me.
Have you ever felt anything like that before? I just had it in my hand and it was wonderful.
My eyes pop open as my hands start trying to crawl underneath my panties. Shocked by my own behavior I shoot straight up in the bed. I ruffle my hair in an attempt to wash the thoughts away. Wavering between wrong and worse, I stare out my bedroom window at the empty road that's rarely traveled by anyone outside of The Devil's associates.
He's gonna kill me. I already know that. The stupid finger in the box was just a heads up. Toying with his food before he eats it. He's sealed my fate and now it's a waiting game. If you knew you were gonna die, what would you do? Would you sit back and let your last chance at something more than the pathetic prison lifestyle you've become accustomed to slip away, or would you make every one of those moments you could count? Hm. You're right. Why are we still talking about this?
Slowly I slide out of bed, shed my clothes and slink across the pitch black house. Knowing exactly where the cameras are, I slither around most of the angles and right into Drew's room like this is an everyday occurrence.
It's not! First time I swear!
Inside I'm grateful the clock beside the bed illuminates the room just enough for basic help, but not enough to help the cameras. Very carefully, I peal back the blanket and crawl on top of him.
It doesn't take longer than a breath for him to stir and snap, “What the-”
My hand flies over his mouth. “Shhhh.” There's a muffled objection, but he stills himself. In a quiet tone I whisper, “It's just me.”
When I remove my hand he sighs, “Mel?”
I spread my bare thighs wider, the feeling of his skin against mine exhilarating. “Yeah.”
His shaky voice asks, “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Really?” I snap. “What do you think? This is an accident?”
“I am praying to God this isn't an accident or a mistake or a fucking dream,” he grumbles, his hands now kneading my ass gently.
In an unsteady voice, I confirm, “It's not a dream.”
Wishing I could make out his face even more, but thankful he can't make out mine to see my pending nerves, I run my hand down his chest. Drew shudders in response and grips me tighter.
“What about the cameras?” The tone in his voice sounds strangled. “What if-”
“As long as I'm gone before morning, we should be fine. The cameras are shitty at night. The light from the clock barely registers.”
Before he can ask any more questions, my mouth falls on top of his. Instantly Drew groans something fierce and tugs my body up, his pierced tip nudging, teasing my clit. The sensation immediately pulls our mouths apart so I can let out a soft moan of passion.
“Fuck...” Drew responds. His dick twitches. “Baby...I don't think I can wait any longer.”
“Please don't.” I beg. “Just...just go slow, okay?”
“Promise,” he answers before using his hand to shift his dick to my entrance. The ring acts as a warning of the pleasure that's to come. My body shakes in anticipation, a moan coming out of me already. Drew lets out a slow sigh, “Keep that shit up and sex with me is gonna look like a bad joke.”
Unsure of what he means, I ask, “I don't...I don't-”
“Mel, I'm already holding back to the point I'm afraid I'm gonna break my dick, but if you keep moaning and shuddering like that, this is gonna be over before I even get started.”
Did you know what he meant? I've never...never had this kind of problem before.
My giggling makes him grumble, “Not exactly a laughing matter...”
I roll my eyes and brace myself. Slowly Drew's cock pushes inside, the girth tearing the un-stretched muscles to the point of pain. My body tenses. I whimper.
“Relax,” Drew whispers, his hands stroking my back. He pulls my chest so it's flush with his. Tightly his arms flex around my body caging me. My face falls into the crook of his neck. “I'll take care of you, Mel. Just let me.”
His cock draws back before pushing in again. This time my muscles seem to be more willing to accommodate the intrusion. Drew repeats the action, the steady space, exactly what my body wants by the way my pussy starts soaking.
“Fuck...” Drew groans again, his lips beside my ear. “Your body is Heaven baby and I never wanna leave.” My tongue softly darts out to taste the skin on his neck. He whimpers and begs, “More...”
I lick again just as his piercing hits a spot that forces me to hiss loudly.
He flexes his arms around me and rocks against the destination once more. “You like that?”
Instantly my pussy c
lenches and I shudder out another moan, the building pressure unfamiliar and teetering on overwhelming. Instead of reading the signs as a reason to stop or change position, he thrusts harder. Sharper. He hits the spots with perfect precision proving his devotion to providing pleasure. My breathing becomes harsh while my body struggles to understand the building explosion that's pending. I've felt it once before with him. I want to feel it again.
