Fated From The Start

12

Madeline-

After a heady shower with Malcolm, all hands and teeth and tongue, we made our way to the kitchen table for a nice breakfast. For me, a yogurt parfait, and for Malcolm, well... I'm not so sure.

In the shower, all I did was swat Malcolm's hands away from me until I finally caved into him. What can I say? I have little resolve, and he has a big something in his pants that likes to crumble me for the fun of it.

When I finally submitted and succumbed to his grabby hands and mouthy words, I couldn't even remember why I tried to deny him in the first place. His mouth devoured my neck, hands gripping me and tightening with each move I made, dirty words worming into my ear and staying there until I came undone on his fingers. Again.

I don't think I'll ever forget the way he spoke to me in the shower, so filthy. I thought I had heard every desire of his in the bedroom, but it turns out there's actually plenty more for me to discover. Whether that terrifies or excites me, I haven't decided yet.

Soon enough, he'll decide for me.

But now, it's like he can't get far enough away from me.

We're both still in the kitchen, me being seated at my kitchen table, Malcolm still standing at my stove. He's doing something over there, cooking something, I just can't see what it is. It smells good, and I don't mind leaving the sweet aroma wandering in my apartment. But when I asked him what he was making, he simply shrugged and turned around, hiding his face from me.

He looks like a bull in a teashop, or even like the big friendly giant. A 6'6 man, you'd think he'd have less elegance. But no, he moves fluidly, and I can't tell if I adore him or hate him because of it. My 5'4 ass can't even move around my kitchen the way he does, and I can't even lie about how envious I am.

Which has been made clear to me, by the smug son of a bitch cooking up a storm by my sink.

He turned to me briefly for a minute before, smirking slightly before he even opened his mouth. "Would you like some of my food too, honey?" His smirk only intensified as I shook my head at him and glared, jealous of the way he's so effortlessly perfect.

That smirk is gonna bite him in the ass when he realizes it just provoked me to put my earbuds in and ignore him until he confesses what he's making to me.

I wanna say I'm not wary of his charm, but I am. Even if he doesn't have good reason to lie to me, he could just be acting this way to benefit himself. The marriage is nothing more than one of convenience, and I wonder if that's the only way that he views it.

Am I anything to him? I know he's said before that I am, and seemingly proved it in the past experiences of the shower and last night, but I'm nervous.

Feeling him, feels good.

I wanna know him.

I never wanna know people.

And even if I do, I'm usually too scared to even begin to try.

But Malcolm, Malcolm makes me want to learn. He makes me want to be there for him, get to know and understand him, touch him and follow his lead.

He's good at that- leading. From what I've learned in our short time of knowing each other, it's that he's strong. Physically and mentally, he seems to have built walls around himself as both protection and armor, and even if right now they're lowered for me, I can't help but contemplate if it's going to stay that way.

When his walls come back up, am I going to get my head chopped off in the process? Will I get locked out and kicked to the curb? Or will he toss me inside his castle, locked in with no possibility of escape?