by Neal, Xavier
“Wanna talk about it?”
On a heavy sigh I push the finished sculpture I'll be delivering tomorrow away from me. “Not really.”
She nods. Silence settles between us once more.
There have been lots of these moments since she confessed everything. Every time I get to a point of understanding, Daniel's face pops back in my head and anger takes it’s place. Mistrust invades. Doubt that this is some sick move by the man who always seems to be ahead of everything.
“Just say it,” she whispers. “Just admit it, Drew.”
“Admit what?”
“You think you love me, but still don't trust me.”
I pause. “Do you blame me?”
Melody folds her arms. “No.” When I look away she adds, “And I don't blame you if you've changed your mind.”
Confused, I lift my eyebrows. “About what?”
“About trying to save me.”
“Mel-”
“I deserve to die for what I've done. And honestly? I would rather die than spend the rest of my life having to wake up to the look that's in your eyes right now.” Shocked at the words, my jaw cracks open. “I don't blame you for feeling the way you are. I don't blame you if you feel this way for a while, but I can't go on forever with you never truly forgiving me. So tell me that now, Drew. Can you really forgive me someday?”
Our eyes lock. The air in the room feels like it's being sucked out. Breathing doesn't even seem like it's more necessary than answering that question. Nothing is more important than answering that question.
Can I? Can I forgive her? Fuck. Can I blame her? If the situation was reversed, what would I have done? What about you? Aren't our brains wired to survive first and consider the consequences or hurt feelings second? We've all done shit we're not proud of to survive. Hurt others in the process. When life forces you to make the only moves you have, you do what's necessary. That's understandable. That's forgivable.
I extend my hand out for her to take. “Come here.”
With a hard swallow, she swipes away the tears on her cheeks and strolls over to me.
As soon as she arrives, I pull her into my lap, legs straddled around me. I touch the end of her braid. “Do you trust me?”
There's no hesitation. “Yes.”
Nodding I instruct, “Undo your braid.” She gives me a skeptical look, but follows my directions. When her hair is free from the braid, I run my finger through it for the first time. She shutters from the touch, eyes closing. In a whisper I question, “Do you care that The Devil's watching?”
“No,” she sighs as my fingers comb through it softly. “The only thing I care about is you.”
Pleased by her answer I pull her forehead down to mine by the nape of her neck. My voice falls to a hushed tone. “I hate what you did to me and my brother.”
Tears begins to land in our laps. “I'm so sorry...”
“I know, baby,” I sniffle my own pending tears away. “I know you only did what you had too. I can't hate you for trying to survive. Please...please don't ever give me another reason not to trust you.”
More tears drop. “I won't. I swear.”
“Good.” Tilting my lips up to hers I finish with, “Because I don't wanna regret falling in love with you, Mel.”
Our mouths softly join for just a moment. To my surprise she pulls away and whispers back, “I love you too, Drew.”
Fueled by relief as much as remorse, our actions become passionately hectic. Clothes begin to fly off. Our teeth bump together during kisses so brutal they could bruise. In the fanatical whirlwind in which we are so desperate to stop being separate entities, all other emotions outside of love disperse. The second my cock pushes inside Mel and she screams in pleasure, I know the only thing that matters is making it out alive together. Living the rest of our lives on the same team. Every pump is delivered with so much warmth I can feel her body being washed clean of The Devil. Her arms clamp around my neck. My teeth bite and mark her perfect skin. She sways her hips back and forth, seducing my orgasm to expose itself before hers. Finding this unacceptable, I abruptly stop, lift her up and lay her down, her back pressed against the table. I spread her thighs wide, gripping them tightly as I ram repeatedly into her.
During the roughness I roar, “Fuck!”
“Yes!” she shouts back, the simple action proving to me where her loyalty lies. Her pussy all of a sudden clamps down on my cock, exploding with damn near no warning. Quiver after quiver seeps out of her, drowning my cock in a vortex of euphoria.
In several long waves come floods her tight pussy. I rumble, “Mel...”
Melody's body seems to accept the offering with welcoming squeezes. There's desperation in the gripping, almost as much as in her hands, which are clawing at my body to cover hers. When I fall forward, she arches upward, lips landing next to my ear, “I love you, Drew McCoy.”
Through my panting, I question, “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Drew
I adjust the collar to my suit jacket.
Why do people wear these willingly?
“It's fine,” Melody hums from my bedroom doorway. “Really.”
“Why do I feel like I have a rash on my neck?”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe because you usually don't wear shirts so it's a huge adjustment to wear not only a shirt, but a jacket. Not one collar, but two....”
Her playful sarcasm causes me to shoot her an equally playful nasty glare. “Ha-Ha.”
With a glance over her shoulder she asks, “Do you have it?”
“Yeah.”
“The Devil is going to be tracking you every step of the way,” she starts slowly. “There's a GPS tracking device planted in your leg.”
In disbelief I snap, “You didn't think to tell me sooner?”
“If I had, would you have tried to remove it?”
Who wouldn't?
“Exactly. That would've tipped The Devil off faster that something was wrong. It was about keeping up appearances remember?”
Flopping on the edge of my bed I ask, “How hard is it to remove?”
“You remember when I sewed you up on the plane?”
“Vaguely.”
“You're gonna need to make a small incision about a centimeter to the left of your graze. Make sure to sterilize the area and the tool-”
“Where-”
“First aid kit. If you don't find one in the master bathroom on the top shelf of the towel closet, check under the sink. If that's still a bust ask one of the maids and insist you want to do it yourself because you don't like being touched by other people.”
“You think they'll buy that?”
“I met the prince you're impersonating. He's...eccentric.”
Nodding I ask, “What about Daniel's?”
She makes a brief frustrated face. “That's where it gets complicated. His is on the back of his neck. So you're going to have to remove it.” My head hangs forward. “He was even harder to kidnap and a little less willing to comply with The Devil's immediate wishes. Nina picked a spot he couldn't easily reach.” I lift my head to see where she points to on the back of her neck. “Same thing. A small cut and remove the chip.”
“Got it.”
“You have to do that before you give him the antidote or there's a chance it won't take properly.”
At the end of her sentence, I notice her slightly sway. She shakes away the action, but it doesn't stop me from questioning, “Are you okay? You've looked a little out of it all day.”
“I'm fine.”
She's lying, but I don't know why. What? I don't know. I don't know if I'll be this skeptical with everything she says, but she just swayed! Something is probably wrong.
“Are you nervous about The Devil? I thought you trusted me.”
“I'm fine,” she insists again. “I do. Focus. You've got a job to do.”
“It's gonna be fun,” The Devil invades the conversation and the room. He slides past Mel, his hand touching
her side. Instinctively I prepare to lunge when Mel gives me a short shake of her head.
She's right. I know. I know. Can't kill him now. Oh, but it's coming. It's fucking coming.
“You look well for a dying man McCoy,” he hums as he slides his hands in his pockets. “That is if you are indeed still dying.”
“Still feel like I got hit with a freight train when I woke up this morning, so I'm guessing, yeah,” I mouth off. “Now, would you like to check if I began my menstrual cycle too or can we get started?”
“The most redeeming quality about you McCoys is your biggest flaw.” With a nod of his head he continues. “Mission is quite simple really. You and your brother are now Prince Duke Hastard.”
“Hazzard. We're Dukes of Hazzard?”
Fucking seriously?
“Hastard,” he corrects with an over enunciation. “You are to each swap the forgery item with the actual one I want. You will arrive ten minutes after your brother in identical clothing on a different bike. This will occur right after valet has a shift change.”
“How will we fake that for the cameras?”
“There are no cameras,” The Devil answers. “Harrison likes his privacy as much as knowing how much his clients or so called friends do as well. Also, Duke has been invited to many of these parties and declined. Very few people have actually met Duke Hastard, so they have no expectations.”
I try not to smile. “No cameras.”
“You'll have an earwig so that I can hear everything every step of the way.” He twirls his finger around and the lackey who walked in with him opens the briefcase he was holding. “And before you get any clever ideas, I have additional eyes around that party not to mention a GPS tracking device implanted in you.”
I drop my jaw just enough to be convincing.
“Oh...you're fuck buddy failed to mention that?” He smirks before looking over Mel who is being gripped harshly by Omar. “Tisk. Tisk. Never know if you can trust that one.”
“Obviously not.” I growl.
“Aw...” The Devil fakes sympathy. “Feelings hurt?”
I'm gonna put a bullet right through those fucking perfect eyebrows.
“You will swap the sculpture and deliver it back to me. Here. Daniel will deliver the bike to my truck, but also return here with the keys in his hand. It's the only chance you two have at surviving the nasty virus feasting on you.”
The lackey leans forward for me to take the sticker sized earwig.
Merrick used to always bitch about mine being too big. Thank God he never saw these or the bitching would've never ended. You know what, I'd give anything to hear him bitching again.
“Where's the object?”
“Harrison's bedroom. Top floor.” The Devil makes another hand motion and the lackey leans forward again. “Use the tools wisely.”
I grab the lock picking kit and slip it into my coat jacket pocket. “It's like Christmas.”
“Poor people Christmas in deed.” His dig has me clamping down on my tongue to hold my composure. “Take your invitation. There's a basic map of the inside of his home in the envelope as well. You're on a time limit.”
Because there's not enough fucking pressure breaking into a high class party, pretending to be a prince, and stealing a valuable piece of artwork as well as a one of a kind motorcycle?
The Devil adjusts his cuffs. “You've got four hours McCoy. Make them count.”
“Can I make a request?”
“Serious set of balls,” he chortles. “What are you asking for?”
I toss my head at Mel. “The girl.”
“I'm gonna kill her McCoy. She's not a trophy you can take home with you.”
“I know.” Coldly I state, “I just wanna be here when you do. I wanna watch the life drain from her eyes the way she's been watching it drain from mine.”
Mel's mouth slides open.
Remind her I'm full of shit please.
“That request I can grant,” The Devil says with a pleased tone. “It's fair. Omar, take her to Eden. Tie her up. She can wait there.” Mel struggles against Omar, but he simply grips tighter. With a wide smirk he states, “It's been a pleasure Eve. Hopefully your replacement lasts as long as you did.”
She chokes out a sob before she's dragged away. My heart thrums so harshly, one wrong breath and it would fall out of me.
Buying her time. That's all I'm doing.
“Your chariot awaits,” The Devil smiles once more. “There's GPS wired into your bike. Two addresses. Here and there. Tick tock, McCoy.”
**
The ride over was perfect. The combination of the wind, the freedom to move further than the property, and having untouchable horsepower underneath me is rejuvenating.
Now that I've tasted freedom, there's no way I'm ever going back to captivity again. And once Mel is out, I'll let her taste this every chance I get. Trust me. I have a plan.
Getting inside the French style mansion that seems to stretch out for miles was easy enough with the invitation. Valet changed shifts on schedule and I'm smoothly walking around the room with the shoulder bag that contains the forgery. This isn't nerve racking in the least.
Apparently The Devil informed us he was also a photographer. People would assume, that's what was in the bag. I feel like he's lying.
A woman in a slinky red dress wraps her arms around me. “Duke!”
Well hello lady in red....hey just because I'm in love doesn't mean I can't appreciate how hot she looks. Though, her paid for tits and botox face just make me even more thrilled to have a woman with 100% natural beauty.
“Mary Lynn Shivel,” she introduces herself, fingers stroking my arm. “Pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
Daniel questions, “Room?”
“I bet it is. Drink by the bar?” I try to give my brother information.
“There's one of those on every fucking floor,” Daniel grumps.
“I enjoy the blue light of this one, unlike the one on the first floor. This one compliments my eyes.”
“Smooth,” Daniel chuckles. “Heading up from the service tunnel.”
“You do have gorgeous eyes,” Mary agrees as we arrive in front of the bar. “A glass of champagne for me.”
“And you sir?” The bartender questions.
“You know, I've changed my mind,” I state and adjusts the strap on my shoulder.
“Want a clear mind for the night?” She playfully coos. “I don't blame you. I wish I would've had one for my first time...”
Are you getting the feeling The Devil has forgotten to mention something?
Once she has the glass in her hand she turns me to walk back the direction we came. “There's nothing to be nervous about either. Once the masks come on and the clothes come off, it's a very freeing experience.”
Whoa...whoa...what?!
Swallowing my nerves, I nod slowly. “I can't wait to see it.”
“Good thing you don't have to wait long.” Her hand runs up my chest. “I know you prefer men, but hopefully you'll test my waters...”
I smirk. “Maybe. If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
She let's go of her grip on me just as Daniel starts to grumble, “Did I hear her correctly? We're at a sex party?”
“We're gay at a sex party,” I mumble strolling off.
The Devil chuckles to himself but says nothing.
Of course he already fucking knew. One more thing to smile at as he uses us like chess pieces.
“Thought you were using the bathroom.” I hear Mary Lynn say to Daniel.
“Don't be seen together,” The Devil growls.
“Let us do our job,” I defend and peer around the corner.
Daniel instantly spots me.
“You're gonna pay for that attitude McCoy.”
“Counting on it,” I mutter before mouthing to Daniel. “Meet on the top floor. Ten minutes.”
He gives me a nod before saying to Mary, “It was brief. Tell me more about your first time
at one of these parties.”
Her voice fills the earpieces, which I hope will act as a distraction to The Devil. The retelling is graphic and filled with so many sexual invitations, if I wasn't focused on saving our asses as well as my loves, I wouldn't mind listening.
It's like hearing porn instead of watching it.