Chapter Thirty-Two
Making Choices
Sammy
The door slammed upstairs; the impact was so nasty it shook the picture frame on the mantle. Octavia’s head snapped up and mine did, too. Menace practically flew down the staircase, he looked like those big guys on television when they were stomping across a bar to confront someone. It made my heart drop to my stomach when his eyes locked on Octavia and stayed there as he drew near.
I shifted, fearing he was going to do something crazy, but instead, he just mumbled, “Going to bed.”
His pace never slowed, and though the basement door didn’t sound half as violent as the one upstairs had, it was still more forceful than necessary.
“Oh,” I sat up a bit on my heels, where I was kneeling on the floor.
I’d gotten her to the sofa, but the back of my shorts were grass-and-mud stained from rolling around with Menace by the pond. I didn’t want to dirty her furniture.
“You should go to him. I’m sleeping here tonight.” Octavia raised her chin, shooing me along.
“Right. Well, just– Call if you need anything?”
“I will. Thank you, Sammy.”
I smiled and nodded before taking a deep breath and heading for the guest room. I found him standing in front of the cellar door-type exit, staring out into the darkness. I could hear the rain drizzling outside as I made my way toward him and gently hugged him from behind. I pressed a kiss to his shoulder and rested my head against him.
The breeze was cool, but it felt good.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He nodded, without looking at me. “Just hate it when she puts me in this position, is all.”
I lifted my gaze to the side of his face and waited for him to elaborate.
“What position is that?” I gently asked, after a few moments of silence.
“She likes to make me her secret keeper. She’s a little too good at it.” He sighed, his shoulders hefting with the force of it before he turned and gathered me in his arms.
“I’m gonna die when they catch up to me–” He began, and I started to shake my head, but he placed a finger to my lips and kept right on talking, “She don’t realize that. She just thinks I’m going to prison. Still, she calls it selling dreams when I choose not to burden a kid with that shit… And all the while–”
He paused and shook his head.
“What?” I whispered, against his finger.
“She hasn’t told Rumi she stopped chemo, or whatever. She knows she is dying, but she don’t say anything. She leaves her daughter watching, waiting on her to get better. She was up there trying to talk with me about it, and Octavia didn’t give me any warning– I think she knows. I ain’t good at hiding shit like that, but it wasn’t my place to tell her.”
He scoffed and pressed his fingers to either corner of his eye, all but cupping his nose.
“Who the fuck is really selling dreams?” he grunted.
He kept his hand there, and I knew he was fighting tears. He was up to his neck in stress. We both were.
I tugged at his jeans, next to the button and it unfastened with ease. He didn’t even realize I did it, I don’t think. It wasn’t until he heard the zipper slide down and felt them falling off his hips that he gave that little gasp sound and looked between us.
I gently shushed him, and when his bewildered gaze met mine, I kissed him, sliding my hand along his face.
“Go back to watching the storm, Menace.” I encouraged him, as I turned him in a little dance, hooked his boxers with both thumbs, and slowly lowered before him. He made a sound like he might protest, but I didn’t let him form words, “Shh, let the storm drown it all out.”
That man was tattooed everywhere. His broad shoulders I’d grown used to seeing, but the snake that was inked and coiled over his pelvis, staring at me when I kissed the base of his cock was something I hadn’t expected. I nuzzled the length with my cheek, sprinkling kisses here and there as I swayed over him, showering affection from either side. When I reached the tip, I struck it with my tongue.
He reached down, framing my hand when I cupped his balls, but his hand shot to my hair, when I used my tongue to snare the head of his cock and guide it into my mouth without hands.
I’d only been with one man, and he was rather to the point where all of this was concerned. Very dry and basic. Menace made me want to be bolder with every bob. His raspy breaths bled into restrained grunts that left him fisting my hair while his hips twitched.
I knew he wanted to impatiently fuck my mouth. I could see it in his eyes. He kept one hand in my hair and the other rubbed my cheek while he stared down at me. His lips parted like he was being shown the most sacred secrets of life, his breath catching when I swallowed him and fought to take more. It was the curses, and the sound of my strained name on his lips that really did it for me.
I was so into it, when he tried to guide me off him, I resisted at first, my cheeks locking around him in protest.
“Goddamn it, girl,” he huffed, curling just a bit.
I slid my hand up the back of his thigh and stared up at him, my throat convulsing to the point tears stung my eyes as I made myself take all of him.
“You could make a motherfucker religious, you know that, right?”
I smiled around his cock and begrudgingly came off it with a little gag, “Is that your way of saying you want to worship me again?”
“Mhm,” he growled, before snatching me off the floor and pinning me against him. “Why are you still dressed?”
“Because you haven’t undressed me,” I quipped back.
He grabbed my chin and smashed a kiss to my mouth, hefting me up, he planted me on the bed and grabbed my shorts. They flew down my legs in a split second, all I could do was draw them up. He grabbed an ankle and threw them apart, gliding onto the bed and between my legs so fast I almost screamed. I caught myself before I could let out the big breath I’d swallowed and stared into his dark-blue eyes. His cock was teasing against my pussy. I’d never been more aware of such simple contact in all my life.
“I want that.”
“This?” He tapped that heavy cock against my clit and it felt like lightning.
I jerked my hips and clung to his neck. “You know what I meant.”
His brows flinched, like he didn’t.
“What you said earlier. I’ve seen women with that on their jackets at barbecues my dad would throw. The property patch thing.”
He smiled like I’d said the cutest shit and kissed me for a while.
“I can’t promise you a patch. Don’t even know if I got one anymore.” He murmured after a while, “But I accept your surrender, sweetheart.”
“My what?” I snorted.
He cupped my pussy, and I instantly hushed, “It is mine. You’re mine, and when they kick the door in, you’ll tell them you were my hostage. Am I clear?”
The smile fell from my face before he’d even finished his sentence. He rolled his palm over my pussy, and I frantically tried to get a grip on his shoulders.
“I’m your ol’ lady,”
“And you’re my hostage.” He swatted my pussy, and my lungs forgot how to work.
“Samantha,” The bass in his voice made me clench inside in all the right places, “When. That. Day. Comes–”
“Fine.” I spat, even if I hated him for it.
“You’ll take my niece down here and hide.”
“Fine,” I repeated.
He stared at me and I suddenly felt like I was being tested somehow. My heart raced and my stomach flipped. I knew it was something significant, but I wasn’t sure what he needed to hear.
“I was a fucking marine, Menace. I can take orders in critical situations and think straight under pressure. I’ll be fine.”
He smiled and his breath rushed out on an emotional shudder that left me studying his face for signs of what the fuck was going on inside him.
“I forget sometimes, you’re so beautiful. So special in all these different ways, I forget you’re no fucking damsel.”
“I’m not a damsel. I’m what you’ve needed your whole damn life, remember.” I smiled up at him.
He made a low, content sound and leaned down to kiss me, relaxing finally, he teased my clit, circling it lazily while his tongue traced my mouth.
“What's up with this?” he murmured, giving my clit a pinch.
I gasped, swallowed a growl, and moaned. “Are we really doing this again?”
He laughed and slid his fingers down to trail the entrance of my pussy and my breath hitched.
God, I wanted to feel him.
“No. I mean– This.” His brows pointedly lifted and dropped. “You had surgery not so long ago, right?”
“No.” My brain wasn’t thinking of surgery, it was thinking about being stuffed and I didn’t want to talk about anything that might deter that. “I mean yeah.”
I laughed and tried to clarify, “It’s fine. I’m good.”
He tucked his head back and looked skeptical, “No– yeah.”
His gaze searched my face, and he started to shift away.
“Don’t you dare.”
His eyes bugged, and he laughed. “Whoa. Alright then.” He nodded. “But I’m a rough ride, so– You’re on top until we see how you handle this.”
“Oh,” I swallowed, causing him to tuck his head back again while my cheeks grew warm, and I avoided his gaze.
He rolled with me, and I caught myself mid-shriek, clamping a hand over my own mouth.
“I– I can’t ride.” I shook my head in denial.
“What do you mean?” He laughed.
I opened my mouth and stared down. It was only moonlight illuminating the room, but even that made me self-conscious.
“I’ve never—”
His brows lifted like he wasn’t expecting that.
“I can’t do this and be looking at you and…”
“I got you.” He snatched my hips, hefted me up and turned me around so quickly I was left wobbling over him and scrambling to find purchase of his knees. Instead, he jerked me back against his chest, holding me beneath my breasts with one arm and angling himself beneath me.
I laughed awkwardly and my balance swayed, threatening to impale me if he let go, but he didn’t.
“You’re in charge, see if you can tolerate it,” he insisted.
I reached down, my hand framing his as I hesitantly lowered my body. I gasped, forgetting how much I missed that sensation, only to find his arm snaring hard at my ribs.
“You okay?”
I slapped at his forearm where it lay over my abdomen and he reluctantly let go, allowing me to slowly take all of him. There was no pain, only the most delicious snugness. It didn’t take any encouragement at all after that, I arched and rode for my own pleasure.