“It is not important,” he said after a moment. I turned my head to look at him, and he smiled and kissed my cheek. The gesture making me choke up a bit for some reason. He shifted, pushing the coffee table out of the way and maneuvering our bodies until we were laying on the floor. He grabbed a big pillow and the throw off the couch, keeping us spooned together, my head resting on his arm, before covering us with the chenille blanket.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked after laying together in silence for a while. I turned around to face him, pushing my legs through his and laying my head on his shoulder.
“I don’t particularly enjoy it,” he said, sliding his hand from my shoulder to my hip. I gave a snort, an ‘as if’ snort, to that. “I really don’t. It’s not nearly as satisfying to me as your cunt.”
“No?”
“Not at all. Your cunt is hot and wet, so very wet, it feels like I am wrapped in liquid silk, a garment meant only for me, fitting me in a way I never imagined was possible. And when you come around me, it’s as if your walls don’t squeeze so much as they caress me, demanding with the most sensual of gestures that I join you.” He took a deep breath, pulling me closer to him. “It’s incredible.”
“So you’re telling me it was just an empty threat?”
“No. I am telling you it was an empty threat today. Tomorrow or another day…I make no such assurances.”
“I see,” I said, laughing. He chuckled, the low sound vibrating through me. We lay quietly for a while, my hand idly toying with the hair on his chest while his hand ran up and down my back. It was an oddly content feeling, and it made me even more nervous to bring up meeting my family, but I knew I had to. And, I reasoned with myself, it would save me from having to see his expression if I could ask directly to his chest.
“Can I ask you something?” I began tentatively.
“Anything.”
“Well…you remember me telling you about Danny?”
“Your brother.”
“Yes, exactly.” I took a deep breath. “The thing is,” I started again, wincing at the tightness in my voice, ” the thing is, Danny is going to be in town in a couple of weeks – with his family – and there’s a big family brouhaha when they’re here. And I am expected to be there. I mean, of course I want to be there, too.” I took another deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Malcolm’s hand had stilled on my back, but he remained quiet. “I was just wondering if you would like to go with me?” I finally asked, my voice squeaking ridiculously on the last word.
“Do you want to try that again?” he asked, chuckling at my discomfort.
“Not really,” I said. I could feel my face getting hot.
“It would be my honor to go.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I gave a huge, shuddering sigh, making Malcolm laugh again. “Why did you get so worked up?”
“I..it seemed too…I don’t know.” I thought for a moment. “It seemed too relationship-y.”
He pulled back to look at me, sliding his hand to cup my face. “This is a relationship, Melody. This is our relationship.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back, moving to press me to his chest again. “What am I going to do with you? Hmmm?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Anything you want.”
“Anything I want?” he asked, pulling back from me again, that wickedly seductive smile on his face.
“Anything you want,” I repeated, the sudden dryness of my throat making my voice weak.
“I want a lot,” he said, rolling me onto my back and pinning my hands above my head.
“A lot?” I asked, breathless.
“Everything and more.”
“That is a lot.”
“Shall I tell you or show you?” His eyes seemed to dance, and I wasn’t sure if it was a challenge or a dare. I looked at him for a long moment, unsure of what my answer should be.
“Whatever you want,” I said at last, and was rewarded with a penetrating kiss.
“Don’t move,” he said, sitting up and looking around. He reached over me and grabbed his slacks, dragging them towards us. His eyes met mine as he stood and slowly pulled his belt out. He dropped his pants, holding his belt in his left hand and holding his right out to me. I took his hand and allowed him to pull me up.
“Let me show you,” he said, moving me to straddle my overstuffed chair.
And he did. Several times, in fact. He showed me in no uncertain terms what he wanted. Showed me so very well that by the end I was a sweaty, welted, sated mess hanging over the back of my chair, and he had to carry me to my bed.
The next couple of weeks were relatively uneventful, in spite of the emotional turmoil from that Friday. Or maybe because of it. We went to Malcolm’s game, had dinner with Tony and Carl, we went to work, we met afterwards most nights and I stayed over at his house. I met up with Robbie alone and then with Malcolm ( never with Tony, though that was Robbie’s choice as Tony wanted to). And in all of those things it was mostly the same, but there was a new…tenderness…to our interactions. Not that we were all over each other, pawing at each other (neither of us are particularly fond of explicit public displays of affection, the sight of couples writhing together in public inciting nausea instead of desire); rather, we seemed more attuned to each other. Any touching or physical gesture was minimal; a hand on his thigh at the movies, his arm slung over my shoulders at a restaurant, taking my hand as we walked. Small things, I know, but of mountainous significance to me. To us.
And the subtle change manifested itself in other ways, as well. As the date for bringing him to meet my family neared, I grew nervous, agitated. I was beyond prickly at work, not short tempered exactly, just obviously tense. I’d told my family I was seeing someone, but made it sound far more casual than it was. And I hadn’t brought home anyone – let alone someone like Malcolm – since high school. I decided on Friday morning to call and let my folks know I was bringing him with me. I grabbed my cell phone and quickly dialed before losing my nerve. When I told my mother I was bringing him with me, she grew so quiet I thought I’d lost the call.
“Mom? You still there?”
“I’m here. Just thinking, Melly.”
“About?”
“I didn’t know it had gotten serious.”
“Serious?” I scoffed.
“Hasn’t it?” she asked. I didn’t know how to answer, so I didn’t. She grew quiet again, so quiet I was starting to think I might have lost the call again and was about to call out when she finally spoke. “Don’t worry, Melly,” my mom said with a laugh. “No one is going to sit him down and demand he make an honest woman out of you.”
“Not funny, mom,” I said with groan.
“Why don’t you and…?”
“Malcolm.”
“Why don’t you and Malcolm come early Saturday? Your father and I would like the opportunity to meet him before Danny and Mary and the kids get here.”
“What time are they coming?”
“Around three or so, depending on traffic.”
“I’ll see if he has anything going on. We may not be able to get there early.” I didn’t lie, exactly. I mean I knew his schedule inside and out and knew he had nothing after his practice. I just…hedged a bit, giving us an out. Although I think my mom was a genius in suggesting bringing him early like that.
“Well, let us know. And we’ll be happy to see you when you do get here.”
We talked for a few more minutes and hung up after I promised to let her know for sure. I looked at my phone for a minute, contemplating calling Malcolm when it chirped in my hand, startling me, making me drop it into my lap. I picked it up and looked at the caller ID to see it was Malcolm.
“Hi,” I said, smiling.
“I’m coming to get you.” No question, no doubt. Just telling me.
“I’m just about to catch the bus,” I protested lamely.
“Take the day.”
“What? I can’t,” I protested. (Even as my mind was calculating the amount of time
off I would have left and what my workload would be like on Monday. Who was I kidding? Certainly not myself.)
“I’m on my way.”
“Are you listening to me? I can’t take the day off.”
“You can and you will.”
“But - “
“You’re tense, and you would be worse than ineffectual at the office today.” I was quiet at that, surprised that he’d picked up on it so easily, though to my credit I didn’t try to deny it. “Take the day.”
“Fine.” I sounded far more sulky than I was actually feeling.
“I am on my way,” he said and clicked off.
I looked at the phone, torn between wanting to throw it at him when he arrived and jumping into his arms and telling him I was falling in love with him. Was. Had. Whatever. Instead I just called Krissie and told her I was taking a personal day because my brother was coming to town. Which was true. For the most part, anyway.
I changed in to a pair of black linen capri pants and a red t-shirt, slipping on some sandals and grabbing a cardigan before heading to the kitchen to wait for Malcolm. I sat at my breakfast bar, drumming my fingers, feeling oddly impatient to see him, and worrying a bit at how completely wrapped up I seemed to be. (To be frank, I think it was my lack of worry at how into him I was that had me worried. If you know what I mean.) I started thinking about the last time he was in my condo, and could feel the smile spreading on my face as the heat spread in my groin. When he finally arrived, I had to pause at the door and take deep breaths, thinking about ice and snow and concentrating on listing the most effective disinfectant bathroom cleansers in order to attempt to appear even somewhat normal.
“Hey,” I said, opening the door. I was going to try for nonchalant, but any pretense died as soon as I saw him. He was dressed in tan cargo shorts and a tight black t-shirt. Not rent-boy tight, just snug, perfectly fitted, as if it was woven to him. He hadn’t bothered to do more than run his hands through his hair, and I had a startling image of me running my fingers through his hair as I pressed his face to my pussy.
“Pack a bag,” he said, stepping in and closing the door behind him.
“Alright.” I instantly turned and walked quickly to my bedroom, going to my closet to grab a small suitcase. I leaned out and put it against the wall, turning back to my closet to look over my clothes. I grabbed a sundress, a cream colored, whispy cotton thing with an empire waist and green and blue embroidery on the bodice. I hung it over my arm, scrutinizing my clothes.
“How long am I packing for?” I called out over my shoulder. It wasn’t an unusual request, not really, even though I had clothes that had migrated to his house and seemed to have taken up residence there.
“A couple days,” Malcolm said from right behind me. I squealed and jumped, turning around to face him. He seemed to…loom… in the doorway of the closet.
“Don’t do that,” I said, my hand pressed to my chest to try and slow my heart. I was visibly shaking.
“Do what?”
“Sneak up on me like that.”
“I didn’t.” He stepped to me and cupped my face. “Why are you so nervous?” he asked, forcing me to look at him. I just shook my head, unable to decipher his expression. He frowned at me, but didn’t push the matter. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.” He caressed my cheeks with his thumbs before dropping his hands and leaving me to pack.
I finished quickly, grabbing a couple more changes of clothes just in case, and heading to the kitchen. Malcolm was sitting at the breakfast bar, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent with his foot resting on the rung. His head was turned and I could study his profile, the small bump on his nose from when he broke it in his 20s, the full softness of his lips, the fringe of his dark lashes. “Are we ready, then?” he asked, not turning to look at me.
“Yes.” He slid off the stool and took the case out of my hand, gesturing towards the door with his other hand. He followed me out, and I could feel him watching me closely as I locked my door. I slipped my keys in to my purse and turned to him, smiling up at him even though he looked a bit pensive. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s,” he said, taking my hand in his and weaving our fingers together. It was a simple gesture, one probably done by millions of people every day, but the natural way it was done, as if it was instinctual, soothed me. We stayed connected like that, holding hands, as we rode the elevator in silence, and I felt some of the tension I’d been carrying around the last few weeks start to lift by the time we reached the ground floor.
We made our way to his car, Malcolm seating me inside before putting my case in his trunk. He got in and put the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start the car up right away. He sat for a moment, hands on the wheel, just looking ahead.
“Malcolm?” I asked, wanting to lay my hand on his thigh but unsure.
“What’s been bothering you? You’ve been jumpy and irritable all week.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have, poppit.” He looked at me seriously. “You’ve been a right bitch at the office.”
“Please.”
“You have.”
“I…it’s nothing.”
“Alright,” he said with a nod, looking forward again and starting his car. He turned to look over his shoulder before pulling away from the curb. He made his way to Aurora and waited to turn left. “Do you think you will ever be able to trust me?” he asked quietly, not looking at me.
“What?” I turned in my seat and shook my head at him. “I trust you. I trust you completely. Jesus, Malcolm, how can you even ask that?”
“You don’t,” he said, making the turn and heading north on Aurora. “Not really.” I snorted at that, turning back in my seat, but he continued before I could say anything. “You trust me with your body, granted. You trust me when we’re…intimate. I will concede that. But you don’t trust me when we’re not. No matter how close we are, no matter how open you are in my bed, outside of it you close yourself off to me. Why?” His voice sounded both hurt and angry.
“I don’t mean to,” I said quietly, watching the ‘no tell motels’ roll by outside the window, catching glimpses of the locks and Ballard. I blinked, surprised to feel tears on my cheeks.
“Why don’t you trust me?”
“I do,” I turned my head to look at him, but he didn’t look back at me. “I do,” I repeated with a heavy sigh. I glanced around, noticing for the first time he was getting on the interstate heading north. “Where are we going?”
“For a drive,” he said, still not looking at me, the clipped tone of his voice made even more noticeable by his accent.
“No destination in mind?”
“No.” He drove in silence for a few minutes, and I was about to break it when he did. “What’s been bothering you?” he repeated.
“I…it’s just…”
“Just?”
“I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow.”
“Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
“What? No! Of course not.”
“Afraid your family will?”
“No.” I sighed. “I mean, I’ve told you about my family, they’re really outgoing…gregarious. Sometimes that can be a bit overwhelming. Especially when it’s one new person in the group, although I think you’re going to fare just fine,” I grinned to myself at that. “But my family’s great, really. Friendly. And once you meet them…well, you’re kind of instantly brought in to the fold.”
“I can see why that would make you nervous,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “No deep, dark secrets or skeletons you’re afraid I’ll uncover?”
“No, of course not…well…except…I haven’t introduced anyone I’ve dated to my family in a really long time.”
“How long?”
“Senior year.”
“College?” he asked, glancing at me skeptically as he merged on to the 525.
“Senior year of high school,” I said quietly, watching his face closely.
�
�I see.” He stared straight ahead, his hands on the wheel. “Why?”
“I never cared for anyone enough to,” I admitted softly, turning my face forward but watching him closely out of the corner of my eye. He gave an odd sort of grimace and I turned my face towards the window and closed my eyes, not wanting to see any more. I felt the car slowing down but resolutely kept my eyes closed. I could tell we were on surface streets again, could feel the sun heating my face even through the tinted glass, but I didn’t want to see anything.
After what seemed like a long time we came to a stop, and Malcolm turned off the car. Neither of us made any sound for a while, until he gave a big sigh and I heard him get out of the car. I opened my eyes to see an expanse of beach and the Sound laying beyond. My door opened and I looked up at Malcolm. He was looking down at me, his face not mad or disgusted or…anything, really. At least nothing I could decipher. He held his hand out to me and I put my hand in his hesitatingly, not sure if this was a gesture of affection or civility. He pulled and I obediently got out of the car, feeling relief wash over me when Malcolm once again threaded our fingers together as he closed my door. He pulled me along with him as he walked towards the water.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Meadowdale Beach.” He stopped at the edge of the beach, glancing around at all the people there. It was a popular destination on a warm summer day. He turned and started walking south, towards a huge cedar that had been uprooted from somewhere in a long past storm and washed up on the beach. We walked slowly in silence, leaving the people behind as we went. The beach became more and more rocky, and the beachgoers seemed to prefer the smoother sands on the north end.
“This reminds me of England,” he said, waving his free hand towards the beach. “Some parts of the coast are so coarse and rocky.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. But very few mountains and forests as close to them.”
I laughed at that, looking at the way the trees did seem to march right down to the water’s edge. It was something I’d never noticed or even thought of before. I glanced around, the wilderness I’d grown up with, lived with my entire life, seeming wilder, and somehow exotic. We reached the downed tree and walked around it, pausing to look at it’s roots at the water’s edge before continuing back up towards it’s top.
Ecstasy Rises (Darker Ecstasy Book 2) Page 10