Page 38 of Stroked Hard
Future wife, here I fucking come.
***
Well, that was the worst fucking drive of my entire life.
All my expectations of making a special connection with Melony flew right out the window when she refused to look at me and only answered me with single words, never elaborating. I’ve had much longer conversations with her before. What’s so different about today?
Did she not like my car? Hell, I know it’s a Prius, not the manliest car in the world, but I save the earth.
I park in Reese’s driveway and turn to Melony who is evacuating the vehicle at rapid speed.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” I ask, slightly insulted she can’t seem to leave fast enough.
With one foot out the door, she turns to me and says, “No fire, just getting out. You don’t expect me to just sit in the car with you, do you?”
“Wow.” I tilt my head and study her. “That was the most you said to me all drive.”
She shrugs. “There wasn’t much to talk about.”
I raise a surprised eyebrow at her. “I asked you what your favorite cuisine was and your answer was yes. Last time I checked ‘yes’ wasn’t a type of cuisine.” Her face reddens. “So what’s the rush?”
She looks down at the pie she’s brought and says, “I don’t know. Just excited about barbeque.”
Lie, such a big fat lie, but I will let it slide because I by no means want to push her. Nope, I’m going to take my time with Melony. I don’t want to scare her away.
“Well then, let’s get fucking to it.” She glances at me for a second, a little suspicion in her eyes but I don’t let her examine me for too long.
We walk up to the door together, light beer in my hands—I still have a diet I have to worry about—and a pie in hers, which I will be eating at least two pieces of. Yes, I have a diet but I also have a sweet tooth that hasn’t been fed in a while. It’s time to indulge and I can’t think of a better thing to eat than Melony’s pussy . . . I mean pie! Pie!I want to eat her pie. Fuck, I want to eat her pussy too.
It takes a few minutes for Reese to answer the door but once he does, I wish he didn’t. Dude looks like hell. Woof!
“Well, don’t look like you want to kill yourself,” I say sarcastically not bothering to wait for a response but instead letting myself into his place.
From the entryway, I can hear Melony’s sweet voice say, “I made some chocolate pudding pie, it’s all sugar-free.” Fuck she’s adorable. Sugar-free wouldn’t be my first option but if Melony made a shit pie for me like inThe Help, I would eat it. Dedication, men, it’s what makes a true romantic.
“Thanks, you can put it in the fridge for now. Looks good, Mel,” Reese sounds off.
Melony and Reese meet me in the kitchen. Melony quickly puts her pie in the fridge as I open one of my beers and take a sip. Reese seriously looks like he’s on death row, constantly checking his phone. He must be waiting to hear from Paisley. Shit, if I was with Melony and I didn’t hear from her, I would most likely look just as crazed.
The best thing about having a friend like Reese, is you can bust his balls when he’s out of sorts and he won’t punch your dick off. “Grip that phone a little tighter and an itty-bitty gnome might pop out,” I say with a smirk.
Reese shoots daggers at me, but that’s the most harm he will do. He then eyes my beer and says in a gruff tone, “Shouldn’t you be watching what you imbibe?”
I hold up my hands in defense. “Hey, Mom, get off my back. I just made the Olympic team, pounded it out in the gym and on the tramp today, so my shit’s covered. Let me enjoy a beer. Damn, what’s your problem? You’re the one who invited us over for a cookout. Is Paisley in the back? She needs to calm you down.” Poke the bear, that’s all I’m doing, poking the bear. Why? Because it’s fun. He would be doing the same fucking thing to me right now if roles were reversed.
Once again, he gives me a dirty look. “She’s not here.”
Maybe sensing the tension building, even though it’s playful tension, Melony adds to the conversation, something she didn’t bother to partake in on the drive over. Difficult woman. “She’s coming though. I talked to her about it today. When I left Bellini earlier, she was still there, addressing envelopes to celebrities for the fashion show Bellini is putting on later in the year.”
I sometimes forget Melony works for Bellini. She’s so nice and sweet, and it’s hard to associate her with someone of Bellini’s narcissistic status. “Fashion show?” I ask, looking for any reason to talk to Melony. “What is she going to show off? Different colored sweater sets?”
“Dog fashion show,” Melony answers, a quirk to her lips. “She’s created a line of religious wear for dogs. She’s gathering auditions now for models.”
Now this fucking interests me, even though I’m slightly confused. “Dog models?”
“Dude, you know she’s fucking insane. Why do you even try to understand?” Reese points out, while grabbing a light beer for himself. I can sense he’s giving zero fucks right about now with what he drinks, thanks to Paisley’s tardiness. Man, he’s wound up about this girl; it must be serious. This would be normal behavior for me, but not for Reese. I’ve never seen him act like this before.
Thinking about dog models, I say, “What if I want Taco to walk in the show? Might be a good opportunity for my little chihuahua to get some exposure. You know I’ve been thinking about breaking her into the acting side of dog careers.”
