by Xavier Neal
Ugh. Fuck me. There has never been a more truthful fucking sentence.
**
After finally wrapping things up at the shop, I grab a quick shower to rinse away most the oil stains threatening to ruin my skin, and change into something more appropriate for whatever the night has in store.
Strolling out of my room, I run right into Madden who seems to have been headed for me. Immediately he bites, “Are you seriously fucking wearing that?”
“It's jeans and a t-shirt,” I gripe back. “What do you want me to wear? A fucking burka?”
“I can see your fucking belly button ring, Knox.” His eyes linger at the area. “And the brass knuckle tatts on your hips.”
“Then don't look.”
Madden's eyes stay planted on my lower half, which causes my pussy to ache in response.
As it always does when he gives off this dominating vibe. You know, it's irritating as fuck to have my own body working against me. My pussy needs to get it’s shit together.
He lifts his head. “Get a jacket.”
Folding my arms across my chest I argue, “And if I don't?”
Slowly Madden steps towards me, his body now so close to mine, I can feel wave after wave of the heat he naturally radiates.
Like a fucking space heater.
I watch his Adam's apple bob before he repeats, “Get. A. Jacket.”
Torn between fighting just to fucking fight with him and caving since grabbing my jacket was on the agenda anyway, I simply press my lips together.
Don't call me stubborn. I am not stubborn. He is stubborn. I'm just...determined to make my own choices. Um...no. That is not the definition of stubborn.
“Fine.”
A deep breath comes out of him before he moves out of the way. On a peeved sigh, I storm past him towards the living room where I left my leather accessory.
Our living room is the largest room in the entire apartment. The kitchen it's connected to is a close second. It has two large, long couches, gaming chairs, bean bags, a huge flat screen mounted on the wall connected to cable and the boys gaming consoles. The rest of the space is filled with shelves packed full of DVDs, which includes a special French Film section, video games, car magazines, and other random crap we've collected over the years. The walls are painted this soothing cream color and are home to framed vintage posters that once belonged to the McCoy's father.
To no surprise, Melody and Drew are cuddled on the couch tongue deep in each other's company.
It's like looking at two sucker fish going at it.
Grabbing my leather jacket from the other couch I mumble, “You have a room.”
Melody pulls back and giggles as she pushes Drew away. “Oh my gosh! We didn't...we thought you guys were already gone.”
“So that makes the living room neutral territory?” I complain. “I sit on that couch.”
“Do you how many times we've fucked on this couch?” Drew casually points out while his hand slides up her leg.
“Drew!” Melody shrieks.
“We're getting a new fucking couch,” Madden declares from over my shoulder.
Looking back at him, I nod. “Right?”
“There's a good chance we'll bang on that one too,” he says with a smirk.
“I will turn you into a couch cushion if you so much as think about sex while you're on it,” Madden's threat makes Melody snicker. “Now take your girl to your room and use the bed. It's what it's meant for.”
The two of them stand and she whispers, “You two...um...have a good night.”
Drew slides his hand down his girlfriend's ass. “I know we will.”
Ladies...the McCoys at their finest.
On another giggle, they disappear, leaving Madden and I alone in the living room.
Stop wondering if I wish we were the ones sneaking off to fool around. Just stop. I mean it. Stop it. Right now. Don't waste your time like I do.
During the process of sliding my jacket on, he states, “You're gonna need to put your hair up.”
I turn around with my eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Where exactly are we going?”
His face remains expressionless.
I hate him.
“Fine,” I cave again. “Any more requests your majesty? Would you like me to change my underwear too?”
“At least you're wearing underwear now,” he mocks before turning around.
I hate him even more.
The drive in Madden's Challenger is actually pleasant. We talk a little about the major overhauls that were finishing up in the shop today, a little about the customers, and a little about how stupid Wrench can be. Like normal, whenever he is behind the wheel of a car, he's relaxed. At a different level of peace.
Something about driving has always brought him down from raging dick to tolerable one. He's been like this since before he was legally allowed to drive. You're right. It's probably the exhaust fumes.
About twenty-five minutes later, we're pulling into a parking space in front of a dark building I don't recognize. It's faded brick and lack of windows don't give it a warm welcoming vibe. Unfortunately the street lamps are too far away to help read the sign while the lights on the building are only focused on lighting up the front door.
Yeah. Did I mention this is located on the corner of rob me blind and try to rape me ally? Thank goodness I never leave home without my knife. Hey, when you spend most of your youth surrounded by guys who don't like the word no, it typically comes in handy when your no actually means no.
Once my seat belt is off, I move my body to face him. “Where the hell are we?”
“The shooting range.”
Baffled by the answer I jeer, “Why are we at the shooting range? Did you forget everything X-Box taught you?”
Madden twitches a very brief grin. “We're here for you.”
“For who?”
“For you?”
“You who?”
“No thanks. I'm not thirsty.”
Don't laugh! It wasn't funny.
“You don't like lame jokes either?” When I fight the urge to laugh with a shake of my head he says, “We're here so I can teach you how to shoot.”
“I've never needed a gun before. Both of my fists and my knife work just fine.”
“And they always will,” he persists. “But the rules of war are changing. I need you ready for everything.”
The desperate look in his eye pins me against his black leather seat.
“Besides, I need you prepared for when the moment comes, and it's fucking coming Knox. It's coming with a hurricane sized hard on. I need you prepared because I know it's gonna be you by my side.”
“Me?” I question in a whisper, butt wiggling against the red plush part of the seat. “What makes you think it's gonna be me?”
“Who else would it possibly be?”
No that was not me swooning very quietly at this moment! That was you...and it's okay. It was a swoon worthy statement.
“You're my ride or die, Knox. You were by my side when I started this bullshit. I need you by my side when I end it.” To my surprise, Madden's large hand lands on my thigh, the contact immediately parting my legs. “If not for me, then do it for the McCoys you helped raise that are now gone because of this.”
A faint sigh comes from me. “Alright. Let's go shoot some shit.”
I follow Madden out of the car and to the front door where he leads us inside. Within the first few steps, we're approaching a jolly, plump woman behind a counter.
Think Mrs. Claus before she went gray but still obviously in her overeating while Santa works too much phase.
Helplessly my eyes fall to the different types of weapons inside the glass casing she's protecting.
So, it's not that guns freak me out or anything, I just don't know how to shoot one. Madden's always known or so it fucking feels like. Asher, Wrench's brother, wanted to teach me and instead ended up teaching me a different meaning of the word bang. That's not really here nor there, is it? My point is I've
never needed to know how to shoot one because the only time I would ever need to shoot one is when Madden's around. But he's right. I need to learn. Don't tell him I said he was right. I fucking mean it.
“McCoy,” the woman greets him with a crooked smile. “You ready to show your lady around?”
He nods. “I am. Place clear?”
“Completely.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “What do you mean clear?”
The woman sucks her teeth.
I don't know if there was sugar cookie in it or what.
“McCoy rented out all the lanes from now until close.”
Turning to him, I drop my hands on my hips. “Why? You don't fucking think I can hold my own in front of other people?”
“How about I don't want you feeling uncomfortable in front of other people and then shooting them because of it?” He counters.
Don't laugh. That...may be true.
I twitch a glare, which is when he whispers, “I was trying to be considerate.”
The realization about how hateful I'm being sets in. Quickly I fold my arms across my chest. “Well. Fine. Thanks I guess...”
Madden's cold blue eyes meet mine. “Yeah.”
For a moment the harsh turmoil that I've become so accustomed to, seems to subside leaving a softness in his eyes I'm unfamiliar with. Longingly, I stare deeper, desperate to hold onto the first sign of something more than the distant displeased jerk I'm enamored with.
“Alright, let's get this thing started,” the woman behind the counter invades the moment, washing away the temporary emotion he was exuding. She hands me a clipboard, “I'm going to need you to read this, fill it out, then your driver's license. Once you're all finished Madden will show you the ropes, but if you get frustrated with his less than pleasant teaching methods, you can always call Big Betty down there and I'll show you how it's done.”
“How would you know if my methods are less than pleasant?”
“I watched you teach that baby brother of yours.” She shakes her head. “Poor thing.”
“Which brother?” I question.
“All of em actually.” Her chuckle makes him grimace. “But the youngest one. With that.”
“Merrick,” Madden informs.
“Right. It's a surprise you didn't try to use each other for practice by the end of that first hour.”
After a small laugh, I extend my hand. “I'm Knox by the way. Nice to meet you.”
Once the clipboard is in my possession she says, “Betty.”
With a short smile, I move over to a fold out chair to review the paperwork.
It's seriously a bunch of 'no shit' items. Treat all guns as if they are loaded. Pay attention at all times. This isn't the wild west, so don't be a gun slinger. Basic bullshit.
As soon as I've signed the document, I hand it back to her and she hands Madden a small bucket containing a 9mm semi-automatic, rounds, ear muffs, and rolled up paper. Following him down the hall, we hang a right, which leads us outside. We cross a small path and slip inside to where the firing range actually is.
The second my foot crosses the threshold, bossy Madden takes over. Instead of following my instinct to chew him out about the way he's directing me, I abide by every rule he makes.
Yes. It's much worse than a root canal. Or so I imagine. I've got fantastic teeth.
It doesn't take long before I've actually got the ear muffs on my ears and the weapon between my hands.
I look like a natural, but can't fucking hit the target to save my life.
Madden fusses from beside me, “Fucking focus, Knox!”
“I am focused!” I yell back firing off another round, barely hitting the edge of the paper.
Swear this thing is rigged.
“Then hit the target!”
“I can hit you!” My mouth mumbles before I have time to stop it. “Look, can we just...fucking stop already? We've been at this for like an hour and I still blow donkey balls at it.”
Madden shakes his head. “We don't give up in this family.”
Placing the gun down carefully, I turn around. “Oh now I'm a part of this family? Because it seems like that's an every other day thing.”
“Can we not have that argument?”
“So we only argue about what you wanna argue you about?”
“I don't wanna fucking argue,” he pleads.
My eyebrows dart down in confusion.
He always wants to argue.
“I wanna teach you to shoot, so I have one tiny reason to worry less that someone I care about isn't gonna make it in a crisis.” His voice drops down to a kinder tone. “Now, try again.”
Stubbornly I agree, “Fine.”
“Let me help this time.”
On a heavy sigh, I rotate my body back toward the pink and white person target. After I pick up the weapon, I extend my arms all the way out like I have been except this time when I do there's the added pressure of his chest against my body.
Fuck me, that feels good.
Madden runs his hands down my arms, the breath coming out of him so heavy against my skin I wanna collapse. “Press back into me.” As soon as I comply he says, “Good. Now push your ass back a bit.”
Ignore that these feel like sexual instructions. I'm trying to.
Another deep breath is expelled out of him and into my bloodstream that's longing for any and all offerings provided by the Sex God known as Madden McCoy. “Good.” His hands leave mine after positioning them on the loaded weapon. Suddenly they're on my hips, keeping my ass pressed firmly against his crotch. “Let out a slow breath as you squeeze the trigger.”
Let out a slow breath before I do other things too. Shit. Right. Focus. Loaded gun.
Doing everything I can to not get lost in the incredible way this feels, I do as he insists. The bullet propels out nailing the X in the center of the target. Excited I bite my bottom lip, repeat all the directed actions, only to hit it again. Each time before I squeeze the trigger, Madden pulls me back against his body in such an erotically edible fashion, I wanna empty the magazine faster, so he can empty himself into me.
Oh, don't even. Decades I've wanted his body this close to mine. Let me just...have it, alright?
When the weapon is empty, I gently place it down, excited there is a hole in the center of the target. Carefully I remove my ear muffs, lean into Madden's grip that's now sliding all the way around my hips to fold his hands together, and sigh, “That guy would totally be offed.”
There's a heavy chuckle out of him as his head lands against mine. “He didn't stand a fucking chance.”
Briefly lost in the embrace I shut my eyes in fear of one wrong thing scaring him away. “Thanks, Madden.”
“I knew you could do it.”
“Yeah? How?”
“Because you're fucking incredible,” he whispers in awe. “I don't think there's anything you can't do.”
Surprised at the compliment, I whisper back, “You're pretty incredible too.”
Slowly, I turn around in his clutches and look up.
Wish me luck. I'm going in.
Rising up on my toes, I inch my face towards his, the hunger in his eyes as apparent as my own. With just one more breath to go until our lips meet, panic floods his eyes pushing me back down onto my feet.
What the hell? It's not like I have garlic breath! Yeah, little sweaty, but it's hot in here!
Madden's hands fall from my hips. He takes a step back. “We should go.”
“But-”
“I need to take you back home.”
“Because?”
“I...I have somewhere I need to be.”
My eyes lower to a glare. “Somewhere you suddenly need to be huh?”
“Never said it was sudden,” he coldly replies.
On a grumble I grunt, “Ugh, fuck, whatever.” Turning around, I place the objects back in the container, fighting the desire to beat him with the empty weapon.
I'm out of bullets otherwise shooting would've been
my first response. I like to think pistol whipping is not a terrible second.
As soon as it's packed, he takes it from me. “Go to the restroom and wash your hands with soap and cold water. You need to remove the gun residue. It'll be to the right when we walk back in. I'll return these.”