I TAKE A DEEP BREATH and force a smile when I spot Jack leaning against his old beat up truck. It’s the same one he had when I last saw him six years ago, only it looks as if he’s had a little work done on it. He stands up straight and grins when he notices me walking toward him. I can’t help but to notice how much he’s aged. It’s a harsh reminder of how much I have missed over the years, by being in this fucked up hell.
“Good to see you, boy.” Jack reaches out and gives me a quick hug before squeezing my shoulder. “I guess I can’t call you boy anymore. You’ve packed on a lot of solid muscle in there. You look good, son.” He looks me over, taking me in, before looking behind me at the State Prison sign and frowning. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Without saying a word; I nod my head and jump into the passenger side, lost in my own messed up thoughts. It’s been a long time since I have tasted freedom and the feeling is overwhelming. A part of me feels free, while the other part feels like a prisoner at heart. I know that I should feel happy. I should feel something right now, but I don’t. A part of me died behind those walls and the other part isn’t sure how to go on living. I no longer know how to live in a society among normal people.
I clench my jaw and look out the window. “Let’s go,” I say rigidly.
It’s silent for the first hour before Jack glimpses my way; all while still trying keep his eyes on the road. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did, Memphis. I wish I knew what else to say, but I don’t. Things will be good now. They’ll be better.”
I look at Jack and take in his graying hair and crooked nose. He was the only adult I had on my side when things were so fucked up that I just wanted to give up; the one and only. This man has the biggest heart of anyone that I know. My mother always said the same about him.
“Thanks, Jack. Mind if I stay in your guesthouse this week?” He glances over at me and shakes his head in answer to my question. “I just need a little time before I go back home. I need to gather my thoughts and shit before I see Alex.”
“Take all the time you need. You can work with my construction crew to help you get back on your feet. You’re strong, Memphis. Things will work out. Alex needs you and if I remember correctly, you never give up.”
“Yeah. That hasn’t changed, Jack.”
Fuck . . . I need to be strong.
LYDIA LOOKS UP FROM HER position on the floor, slowly running her tongue over her already moistened lips while pulling my boxer briefs down. “I’m going to have fun with this,” she whispers. Her eyes widen as my erection springs free from the black material. She almost looks nervous, now that she has seen her challenge.
“Face the other way,” I demand. Without question, she spins around on her knees so that her back is facing me and sits up straight. Tangling my hand in her long, red hair, I yank her head back and rub my dick across her lips. “I want you to take it deep. Okay, Lydia?”
She nods her head in understanding. Good. She needs to know I fuck for physical feeling and nothing more.
“This is all that will happen between us. I’m leaving next week and I don’t want any attachments. I can’t handle that shit right now. Is that understood?”
Answering my question, she tilts her head back as far as it will go and swirls her tongue around the head of my dick. “Yes.” Her voice comes out desperate and full of need as she looks up to meet my eyes.
“Good,” I say stiffly.
Closing my eyes, I moan as she bends back and takes my cock into her mouth, slowly inching her way up until she’s deep throating. She chokes a little at first, but quickly recovers when I rub her throat, relaxing it as I bend her back as far as she can go.
Fuck me. She is flexible.
I can see my thickness in her throat each time it expands and I have to admit that I’m impressed with her abilities. I’ve known Lydia for over ten years—as long as I’ve known Jack—and I would’ve never expected this out of her. She was always the sweet, innocent girl next door. Well, now she is all grown and apparently a pro at oral pleasure.
I’m not going to lie . . . after six years I need this shit. The next thing I need is to find Alex and get us both the hell out of Crooked Creek before he ends up like me, or worse . . . dead.
One week later . . .
CLAMPING THE FORCEPS ONTO THE side of the Bailey’s lip I remind her to take a slow, deep breath before I push the needle through the skin and then quickly replace it with the stud. She barely even flinches as I screw the ball on the end of the metal, and I have to admit I am proud of her. I expected her to cry since she can be so damn sensitive.