Yours? (MxM)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Y'all Finna Hate Me

Camden

I had no clue that Alex was such a good chef!

Being captive may suck, but at least the food is delicious. He could've been mean and gave me something like cat food or giblets, but he prepared meals for me like a king.

However, I really need to get out of here!

True to his word, we were practically untraceable. I've been missing for almost a week now, and I'm only growing weaker every passing minute.

"Here we are darling, soup." I stared warily at him. "It's avgolemono. A Grecian soup with lemon and chicken, its delicious. "

The scent flew into my nose and made my stomach grumble. I licked my lips, which made Alex chuckle. "Go ahead."

I grabbed the bowl, and experimentally dipped the spoon in the soup, which was creamy and yellow. Then I took a spoonful.

This is good enough to make me cum!
What's that called?

"Foodgasm." I whispered, which made Alex's smirk grow wider.

"I knew you'd like it. Eat up, and don't forget to drink your juice!"

I smiled, knocking the blueberry lemonade back in one gulp.

Alex's eyes widened in surprise, but it was for a mere moment. His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"I...feel sleepy..." I yawned between the words, staring at him from half-lidded eyes.

"Sleep, darling. I'll be there."

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My eyes opened groggily, before staring at the window. It was well past eight, with the moon settling itself behind the hills and flowers.

Where am I?

A man opened the door, a man with curly blond hair, and a deliciously perfect muscle mass, holding a silver tray with treats and a teapot on it.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

He rushed to my side, setting the tray on the bedside table.

"Camden sweetie, this is your home."

My head swiveled around. "Mine?"

He smiled, and nodded.

"Then who are you?"

His startlingly white teeth gleamed so brightly.

"I'm your husband." He pointed to the ring on my finger. "We were married two years ago."

I squealed at excitement. "Its gorgeous!" I shined the rock in the light.

He laughed, kissing my forehead. The he grabbed a tiny picture off of his tray.

"Do you know who this man is?"

I stared at the photo. The man was tanned, with curly, hazelnut hair that curled at the nape of his neck, and troubled looking emerald eyes.

I frowned. "No. Who is he?"

My husband's face cracked a smirk, before he sniggered.

"Your old butler."