Chapter 12
Cook
When I woke and poked my head out of the room, Maddie was listening to music, and her back faced the bathroom door, allowing me to slip by unnoticed.
I needed a shower, and one that didn’t result in me coming all over the wall. I refused to touch my cock. Yesterday’s memories threatened to overtake me, but I kept the water cold until my dick stood down.
As soon as I had stepped through the front door last night, I’d been on guard, acting like what I thought Maddie needed. The words and movements had felt weird, like I was putting on a show.
A fucking Shakespearean actor, I was not, but I would do it for her.
When I stepped out of the shower, I threw on the sweatpants I’d worn into the bathroom.
Maddie was waiting for me outside when I pulled the door open. Her eyes roamed over my bare chest, and for the first time in my life, I blushed. She eyed my chest and then lower stomach. Finally, she dragged her gaze up to my face. Red splotches covered her cheeks and neck. Cute. My cock jumped up, but I walked on. I couldn’t go there.
Maddie trailed me like a puppy, and when I leaned on the frame of the closet door—the one that used to belong to Mom and the sack of shit, but I now stored my clothes in—she ducked under my arm stood in front of me with her chin on her chest. Her hair tumbled around her face.
To keep her from seeing my cockstand, I curled my hand in front of my sweatpants.
“Do you want me to make you breakfast?” she asked, twisting her fingers together in front of herself.
Did I make her nervous? She hadn’t used such a voice before, but maybe this was what Mercer was talking about: the journey. The learning. I had started it by being so firm with her last night. I’d given her what she wanted, or at least as best I could. Now she was answering, following my lead.
“No,” I said. “Go get your camera.”
She scampered into her bedroom—my old bedroom. Her ass wiggled as she bounced away. Before I knew it, I was smiling. It was adorable.
Shewas so cute.
I quickly schooled my face as she met me again in the living room and kitchen.
With the two cameras in her hands, I took her into the darkroom. After I’d turned on the safelight, I shut us both inside. Each breath of hers scorched my skin.
From the cabinet, I pulled out the enlarger, a developing tank, chemical trays, tongs, scissors, the paper, and several other pieces of equipment. I set up the room, walking through the process in my mind. Left to right, I laid the equipment out and prepared to teach her how to take the film through the necessary steps. Finally, I strung a line between nails I’d pounded into the walls and clipped on the clothespins.
“How do you know how to do this?” asked Maddie as I grabbed onto the developer bottle.
“High school,” I said.
She drew her eyebrows together, questioning. Even that was cute. “You did this in high school?”
“I did.” I opened the bottle of developer and poured it in the first tray, then aimed my grill thermometer at the liquid to make sure the temperature wasn’t wonky. I did the same with the stop bath and fixer. “I liked photography back then, including this process.”
It had taken me months to afford and buy all the supplies, but this room had become my escape from how much life sucked back then. This room and the time I spent with Celt’s family. They were probably the only reason I survived.
“I didn’t get to, um, go.” Maddie shifted her weight between one foot and the other.
“Go?” I asked before the answer struck me. “Sorry. You mean you didn’t go to high school?”
She pinched her lips and shook her head.
Shit! Such a simple thing sent her off into the abyss. I put the bottle down and grasped both sides of her face to stop her.
“Maddie,” I said and waited until she opened her eyes and looked at me. “High school was a black time for me. It’s shitty for a lot of people. If you missed anything, we’ll fix that. Okay?”
She blinked at me with the awe of a child, and I melted a little more.
“Good now?”
“Yes,” she answered, and I returned to pouring the chemicals.
“Put the other camera down and hand me the one you started with yesterday.” With my other hand, I reached for the bag. “You have to open the camera in complete darkness. That’s what this changing bag is for.”
I placed it inside and loaded the film onto the reel while explaining the process. Once I put the film into the developing tank and started agitating it, silence settled over us in the room. I set a small egg timer, so I didn’t overexpose the film.
Maddie leaned closer, watching me work over my shoulder. “What other classes did you take?”
“The same old stuff: English, math, science, gym.” I shrugged. “I don’t really remember. It was a long time ago.”
I tried to wrack my brain for memories of high school, something not bad I could share. The problem was that I’d put that all in my past long ago and thrown away the key.
The timer dinged and I moved the film to the stop bath to halt the process, then moved on to the fixer bath. “This makes the photos insensitive to light,” I explained. Afterward, I moved through washing and drying the film, then clipped it to the line.
As I’d developed them, I hadn’t paid much attention to the pictures themselves, but now I leaned forward to see what Maddie had taken. Some of Mom’s house and my room there. One of me in the bed. I gritted my teeth at that. Several of this house and the plants and a few more of me. I bypassed those, seeing enough of my own ugly mug.
I leaned up on my toes to get a better view, nearly pressing my nose to one photo of this old house.
“These are really good,” I said, admiring the angles that she had gotten.
Shadows had crawled up the house, and she had slanted the camera. It spoke to the life of the house and its story; how rundown it was with a terrible past. Like me. I could see my daddy’s blood splatter over the cabinets when I looked close enough.
It made me shudder.
Maddie shook her head, cringing. “They’re really not that good.”
“They are,” I said, meeting her gaze. “You have a very artistic eye.”
In the dim light, she tucked her hair behind one ear and ducked her head. I didn’t hold myself back now in the close space, pulling her gaze back up.
“Eyes on me,” I grumbled, and she followed the order.
My fingers lingered on her heated cheek, warmth spreading up my arm from where we touched. I craved more, but then I let my hand fall. We had come far, but it had only been days.
Maddie had further to go.
No matter what Mercer said, I wouldn’t push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with.
She cleared her throat. “You haven’t said anything about the pictures of you.”
I chuckled. “You shouldn’t waste the film on me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m no model.”
“You’re not ugly.”
“Never said I was.”
“The last photos of you your mom could find were from when you were fifteen,” she said.
“I have a few mug shots out there,” I said with a wry smile. “She just doesn’t want to put those up on the refrigerator. It might raise some questions she can’t answer.”
“Will you answer them for me?”
I shot her a look. She was pushing it—pushing me. This was more than just asking me questions. She had that challenging look in her eye, illuminating her pupils, and she smirked. I was torn between making her smile or frown. She leaned forward, reaching for a photo. Bou’s old tank top tightened against Maddie, revealing more skin on her midriff. Her shirt constricted over her breasts, and yeah, my cock twitched.
I really shouldn’t still be in the darkroom with her. “Depends. What questions are you asking?” This was how I was going to get in trouble.
“Everything.” Maddie neared me, her voice husky. “I want to know everything about you, Cook.”
And then she pressed her lips against mine, catching my breath and my body in her grasp. Her kiss was childlike, innocent. And I was addicted.
I grasped onto her jaw and tilted her head, allowing my lips to move across hers. Maddie let out a sound somewhere between a mewl and a moan, and it set my blood ablaze. I pulled back to look at her, concerned I was overstepping, but I saw none of the fear or uncertainty I would’ve expected.
So... I crashed my mouth to hers, harder this time, and licked at the seam of her lips. She opened to me, and damn, she tasted so good. So sweet. I couldn’t imagine what her pussy would taste like if her mouth tasted like this. My cock tented my sweatpants. It wanted to be free, and it would—but not now.
I dragged myself away from her, rolling up my shoulders to a head taller than her, and I breathed deeply. This wouldn’t be a good thing yet, so I mentally listed off all the shit that disgusted me again, or what made me go completely limp.
Maddie whimpered a little and tried to close the distance again, but I held her away. Her arms encircled my waist, her skin to mine. It was painful to peel away from her, like our bodies were drawn together.
She peered up at me, sadness crinkling her eyes. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I couldn’t trust my cock.
Not with her so close.
Someday.
Mercer told me last night that I shouldn’t worry about hurting her and that Maddie would be ready for me. So many people had hurt her and used her already. I wouldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t allow myself the chance.
But how would I explain that to her?
That I was only trying to protect her.
Instead, I walked out of the darkroom and said nothing at all.
Maddie
I didn’t get it. What had I done wrong? Anything like that would’ve had Tommy G. or Signora’s client all over me. It was how I played their game to hopefully make them be gentle. They weren’t gentle, ever. I’d always had to tolerate the fingernails and knuckles and weapons, and over the years, I’d learned who wanted me to scream, who wanted my tears, and who just wanted my blood.
Cook, however, had been . . . considerate.
I padded after him on his heels. Hanging my head, I rubbed at the remaining tickle of his beard and licked the taste of him off my lips. I wanted more of him in every way.
“Maddie, sit on the couch.” Cook left me and walked into his bedroom.
I perched on the arm, fighting a pout. If I leaned to one side, I could stop the throbbing in my sex, but the pressure wouldn’t subside. Today was proving to be just as tempting as last night. Every look Cook shot me sent me into a tailspin, especially when he didn’t wear a shirt and I got a peek at how magnificent he’d be fully naked.
A few seconds later, Cook walked out of his room, holding two boxes that he’d brought home early this morning when it was still dark outside. I leaned forward, trying to get a sneak peek.
“Here,” Cook offered me the two boxes, and I took them from his hands.
The first box included a phone, and I tried not to grimace. Was this going to be another speech about calling Melanie? I still didn’t want to do that. I didn’t know all the reasons, but I didn’t want to face her yet.
But there was another side to having a phone. I would have it for when he left me home again. That made it a little better.
“There’s a camera on the phone too,” said Cook, pointing at the list of features on the back. “Then you don’t need to drag those old bricks around everywhere.” He took the other box from my hand, smirking. He tapped the picture on the box. “You have a new camera lens too.”
I tried not to frown. I was supposed to be happy—excited that Cook was thinking about me and got me presents—but I didn’t want this. I wanted his camera.
He said I had an artistic eye. That my photos were good. Had that been a lie?
Tears burned my eyes, but I wouldn’t cry. I didn’t cry when Tommy G. cut me or backhanded me. I wouldn’t cry now over something so stupid.
It hurt in a different way, though.
I dipped my head, pressing my chin to my chest. My neck ached with the angle. “Do you not like what I created with the film?”
He had a whole fucking darkroom set up for this. He took photos, so why couldn’t I?
I liked it too.
Cook grabbed my hand, his fingers encompassing my own. I loved to be touched by him again—craved more of his touch. Even as my sex yawned, I wondered if he knew how my body reacted to his. Especially when he didn’t wear a shirt. No feelings like this had ever consumed me before.
Why now?
I couldn’t confuse things, though. He didn’t like what I’d done with the photos.
When I tried to pull back, he held me firm.
“Maddie, your photos are amazing,” he said, confusion leaking into his voice. It made his words sound like a lie.
I didn’t believe him. These weren’t gifts but offerings for something different. I didn’t like this. Didn’t want this fancy thing.
“Maddie, eyes on me,” he ordered.
Grinding my teeth, I raised my head to meet his gaze. However, a weight did shift off my shoulders when he used that line. My body reacted, but the tension rolled away. It was like the chains that bound me had been cut.
“Your photos are works of art,” repeated Cook, his voice low. “Digital photography is really no different than film. You just get to skip the darkroom.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
He scowled. “You’ll be awesome at both, but I thought it would be easier for you. I can see you don’t like it, so I’ll take the lens back.” He grabbed one box from my hands.
I didn’t want to play with digital photography. The darkroom, close to Cook with him teaching me, had been beautiful. I wanted us pressed together as we studied the film and chose the best pictures.
“Keep the phone, though,” he said, “even if you don’t use the camera. It’ll be good for you to have.”
I gulped, and it must’ve been audible because Cook peeked over his shoulder at me. Heat bloomed on my cheeks, like I was a teenage girl with a crush. Slowly, I stood. My knees nearly buckled under my weight.
“Do you want something to eat?” I asked. He stood between me and the kitchen. My stomach grumbled for food, but my sex still craved him.
As if he knew what my body was going through, he appraised me. His nose twitched like a dog on its prey’s tail. I bit my bottom lip, wishing those eyes were on a different part of my body. Wishing that nose was buried deep in my slit.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, stepping toward him, not referring to food at all.
I raised my hips and pulled back my shoulders. Bou’s old tank top pulled up my lower belly. It was a shame I was wearing pajama pants too, but I would gladly drop them if he gave me the word.
Stopping in front of Cook, I tipped my head back to meet his hardened gaze. He looked down at me over the tip of his nose, exposing the whites of his eyes. For a brief second, I was sure I had fucked up. I shouldn’t be doing this—he didn’t want me—but I still tasted him on my lips. His eyes were narrowed on my face, but then his gaze dipped lower. My chest. My breasts.
I stepped closer, and my hard nipples grazed his skin. He hissed in a breath and released it slowly. The hot exhale scorched my face. This was my challenge to him. Would he fucking take it already?!
Reaching up, I grabbed the back of his neck and planted my lips on his. An immediate burst of pleasure rolled through me. He tasted savory and smoky, leaving my stomach grumbling. My pussy leaked, readying herself for his cock. The bulge pressed into my stomach.
He wanted me as much as I wanted him, so why did he keep the distance between us? I tightened my grip around his neck, holding him against me, refusing to let go.
His cock twitched, rubbing against me. I was more than willing to be the siren to pull it from the depth of his blue pants.
I slipped my tongue into his mouth like he’d showed me in the darkroom, parting his lip and ramming straight into his clamped teeth. The man was built like an unmovable boulder.
Suddenly, Cook jerked his head back. He placed his hands on my shoulders and shoved me away. I stumbled back but caught myself on the counter before falling. How he had held onto me with my body away from his would leave marks on my skin for at least a little bit, but that pain was too mild to faze me. He’d have to do a lot worse after all I had lived through.
Standing slack jawed, Cook stared at me. Red crept across his chest and up his neck. I wanted to nibble on the soft, tender skin and feel his cock inside me.
“We shouldn’t—” Cook stopped himself, but I recognized the hunger and the longing.
I moved and his hands released me. Grabbing at the hem of my tank top, I made to yank it over my head, but he grabbed my hands, locking them to my sides.
“No,” he growled, and I released my tank top and flexed my hands, but he didn’t let go.
For a moment, we stared at one another. I didn’t challenge him. The fight had been taken out of me, but I still wanted him to hold me. To kiss me. I wanted him to give in to what I knew he wanted. Wasn’t I what he wanted?
His phone dinged, and Cook released my hands and turned his back. Apparently, he didn’t want me.