Page 65 of Pen Me

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 upthere 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.

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