Chapter Text
AGE 6
Mel tastes colors and sees sounds.
According to the doctors she’s seen for the past year, she has a neurologic condition called synesthesia, which causes her senses to sort of overlap. It is considered pretty rare, with only 4% of the world’s population having that diagnosis.
Her twin sister, Becca, thought it was the coolest superpower ever, constantly asking what she tasted and saw whenever she said her own name.
(While Rebecca tastes like red licorice, and a deep purple blobs pop into Mel’s head, Becca tastes like pink bunny Peeps marshmallows and flashes bright yellow, like the sun.)
Her father, Richard King, feels warm, not like fire warm, but like a soft knitted blanket type of warm. Mel tastes something bitter, yet pleasant, whenever her mother’s voice echoes through the house calling him. (Years later, she finds out his name tastes like coffee.)
But Theresa King is probably her favorite one. Her mother is this warm, borderline brown shade of orange and a mix of cinnamon and vanilla feels sweet on Mel’s tongue.
It became a game of theirs: listening to music and asking Mel what she saw or tasted. Whether it felt warm or cold.
It had been two weeks since they moved from Richmond, Virginia, to Wilmington in North Carolina, and Mel had yet to set foot outside that house.
Summer was definitely her least favorite season. While the name itself tastes like fresh tangerine juice, the weather was a sensorial nightmare. Mel hates the feeling of sweat on her body and the way her clothes stuck to her skin.
Still, she decides to overcome that annoyance and explore the neighborhood. Her mother told her not to go too far, and Becca nearly groans when Mel invites her to come along, eyes stuck to the rerun of That’s So Raven on TV.
So, she puts on her flip flops and heads out the door.
In the end, Mel really does not get very far, because right next door, on a gigantic oak tree with thick trunk and branches there’s a tree house.
She catches the faint singing of a couple Carolina Wrens – the ones her father thinks are gorgeous – and she feels a slight chill run through her body, a welcome relief in that awful weather.
The tree house was in the backyard right next to theirs. While their house has a soft butter yellow color, this one is a shade of blue Mel hasn’t seen yet. Not quite like the sky nor like the ocean.
Her moment of peace is quickly interrupted by the sound of someone grabbing her attention.
“Hey!” It’s a boy, probably her age, with dark messy her and piercing blue eyes. “You just moved next door, right? You and your twin.”
He approaches her, where she leans on his fence.
Mel nods.
She’s not exactly shy, per say, but she isn’t as extroverted as Becca or her mother.
“I’m Melissa.” She says, voice soft. “But everyone calls me Mel.”
He smiles. “Hi, Mel. I’m Frank.”
A wave of blue, same shade as his house, hits her like the ocean. She can’t really decipher what his name tastes like, but it feels somewhat sweet and tangy and fresh.
“You’re blue.” She mumbles.
Frank frowns. “Huh?”
“You’re blue.” Mel repeats. “To me, names, songs, even numbers, have tastes and colors.”
His eyes widen, like he just discovered the best secret ever. “No way!”
Mel giggles at his excitement and Frank gets even closer.
“What does my name taste like?” he asks, swinging on his heels.
Mel shrugs. “I don’t really know. Is sweet, but not really.”
Frank’s lips turn into a soft pout. “What about Melissa?”
Nobody really calls her Melissa, so it is somewhat different from Mel.
Mel tastes fruity and chewy, like Fruit Roll-Ups; Melissa feels viscous and like straight honey on her tongue.
“It’s like honey.” His eyes widen.
“That is so cool.” He breathes out.
Mel giggles again. “Well, I think your tree house is much cooler.” She points at the wooden structure that rests on a thick branch that almost reaches her bedroom window.
Frank glances at the tree house then back at her, almost offended. “Nuh uh, you’re definitely cooler, Melissa.”
Her cheeks warm up only slightly, the sweetness taking over her mouth once again.
They spend the rest of the afternoon talking, exchanging stories about their respective siblings. (Mel finds out that Frank’s the third of four children. He has an older brother, an older sister and a baby brother that is barely a year old)
He asks her if Becca also has synesthesia and if when one of them is in pain the other one feels it too. (The answer to both questions was no.)
And by the time summer ended, and they started second grade, she and Frank Langdon were best friends.
AGE 13
Mel tugs at her short white sundress, fitted only on her chest, with a grimace on her face.
“Come on, Mellie. Cheer up.” Frank nudges her shoulder with his as they climb off his older brother’s pickup truck, the small gift bag in one hand.
She tries to fix her slouchy posture, still uncomfortable in her own skin. Her ballerina flats aren’t the most comfortable, but they were the only ‘fancy’ shoes Mel tolerated to wear during the muggy North Carolina springs; And her mother had convinced her to wear her hair down, which meant a little more of discomfort.
(“You have such beautiful, long hair, Babygirl. People should see it!”)
Last Friday, Mallory Channing invited both Mel and Frank to her thirteenth birthday party at her big colonial house near the pier.
Everyone at school knew Mallory was heads over heels for Frank. But Mel was the only person who knew it wasn’t exactly mutual.
“Hey, I’ll be back by nine. Not a minute past that, or Ma will fucking eat our asses, Frank.” Nate points his bony finger at him, and Jules, his girlfriend, smacks his arm.
“Quit being rude to the boy. You two have fun.” She smiles, brushing back her beautiful thick curly hair. “And you look gorgeous, Mellie.”
Mel blushes, tugging at her dress once again. “Thank you, Jules.”
The older girl waves at them as Nate drives off without another word.
“C’mon. It’s gonna me fun, Mellie.” He nudges her once again as they both stand a few feet away from the porch.
Mel rolls her eyes.
“Frank, I was only invited because Mallory knew you wouldn’t come otherwise.” She mumbles.
“Well, at least she’s smart.” He flashes her one of his charming smiles.
Mallory was never straight up rude to Mel. Her meanness was found in between the lines. She’d compliment Mel’s outfit then hushly mock it mid math class with one of her minions. Or she’d tell her that her hair looked nice then would make a loud snarky comment – ‘because what thirteen-year-old wears pigtail braids to school?’.
But she also knew that if she was ever directly cruel to Mel, her chances with Frank would go down the drain.
For the past seven years, Mel and Frank developed a soul-bonding connection. Like they could read each other’s minds and would act without being told to do it.
They were kindred spirits. Twin flames.
And there was not a soul in this world that could change that.
Mel takes a deep breath in, and Frank squeezes her wrist three times.
“We’ll be out of here by nine.” He leans closer to her and whispers in her ear.
Over the last few months, Frank had another growth spurt. Now he has skinny, lanky limbs and seems to feel a little odd in his own body. – now he knows how Mel feels like most of the time.
“It’s not even five-thirty.” She whispers back.
He smiles. “We’ll survive. I swear.”
He tangled their hands together, then heads to the front dark-green-colored door. Before they can even knock, Mallory bursts it open, with a borderline maniac smile on her face. Mel and Frank exchange slightly terrified glances.
“Hey, Langdon!” she exclaims, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.
“Hi, Mallory.” Frank replied with a tight smile on his face.
Mel never told him, but Mallory’s name was tooth-aching sweet and gelatinous like gummy bears, and she’d always fight back the urge of grimacing whenever she’d hear it – it was too much.
“We brought you something.” He hands her the glittery pink gift back and Mel bites back a giggle because it matches Mallory’s outfit almost perfectly.
A short pink sequined dress and kitten heels. Poorly applied blue eye shadows pops in comparison to her milky baby pink lip gloss, and her dark brown hair crimped.
“O-M-G! Thank you!” she squeaks.
“Happy birthday, Mallory.” Mel says, squeezing Frank’s hand.
The birthday girl stares at her with an obvious fake smile on her face, her button nose slightly scrunched, like the thought of talking to Mel makes her sick to her stomach.
Well, even saying her name makes Mel want to physically throw up. So, she could say they were even.
“Thanks, Mel! I love your outfit by the way.” She tilts her head in fake innocence.
And Mel knew that at any point tonight she would hear a mean snarky hushed comment about it.
“Thank you.” She replies.
“Well, come in!” Mallory says, chipperly. “The party is down in the basement.”
With their hands still clasped together, they follow Mallory through the massive neutral-colored living room and down the stairs to the basement. Almost the entire seventh grade was there.
“There’s food scattered everywhere so, go nuts!” with that Mallory walks aways with an exaggerated sway of hips.
Mel pulls Frank a couple inches closer. “She is so into you.”
He snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Too bad.” He rolls his eyes. “Come on I want a cupcake. And a lollipop. Honestly anything. I’m starving.”
“We ate an hour ago.” She points it out.
“I’m a growing boy, Mellie!”
The comment comes an hour and a half into the party.
The basement was warm and somewhat poorly lit with only a couple of yellow-colored lights turned on. Some radio pop music was playing in the background, feeling mealy on her tongue, and Frank was drumming his fingers on her back.
“God, what is she even dressed up as? Virgin Mary?” One of Mallory’s minions, Lola, mutters to one of her friends and Mel hears their giggles.
They were close so Mel would know they were talking about her, but not close enough to be straight up evil.
It was all calculated to a T.
“Maybe she wants to be one of those Russian dolls.” The friend replies.
More giggles.
Mel stares at the can of soda in her hand, then at her baby pink ballerina flats and her soft white sundress.
Frank takes a step closer to her, his hand poking her waist. “You’re ok?” he asks.
Mel nibbles at her bottom lip, not in the verge of tears, but her face, neck and collarbone felt warm due to embarrassment.
She shouldn’t have come. She should’ve stayed at home and rewatched Practical Magic with Becca and danced around in their living room as the Owens drank their midnight margaritas.
“I-” her breath hitches. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“Mel.” He pokes her waist once again. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes are stuck to hers – something now so casual to them – as he seeks answers in her discomfort.
Before she can mutter an answer, Mallory’s high pitched voice echoes through the basement:
“We should totally play Truth or Dare!” she announces.
Oh God.
“That translates to ‘I wanna kiss Francis Alexander Langdon so bad I’m willing to play a stupid game for it’ by the way.” Mel mumbles, close to his face.
Frank rolls his eyes. “Francis Alexander Langdon is more preoccupied with Melissa Lane King, so pass.”
His fingers still grip the fabric of her dress; his eyes still roam her face looking for answers.
“Langdon, Mel, come on.” Mallory calls, gesturing for them to join the rest of the group.
“We should go.” Mel whispers.
“Mel…”
“Just two more hours.”
They join the group on the floor with both their backs pressed against the old couch. The fabric was rough and it immediately made Mel want to move.
But she stayed.
Because Mallory Channing was staring at her and at Frank’s fingers resting on her knee. Jealousy was a green-eyed monster and so was the thirteen-year-old across from Mel.
“Since I’m the birthday girl, I’ll spin first.” Mallory states already reaching for the empty soda glass bottle.
Please not me. Please not me. Please not me. Please not me. Please not me. Please not me. – Mel prays in her head.
But she ends up being the poor unfortunate soul, victim to Mallory’s invasive question.
The evil grin on the girl’s face made Mel wonder if she somehow managed to cheat.
“Well, Mel.” she tilts her head to the side. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” She responds without hesitation.
She was aware that if she chose dare, then Mallory would have the immense pleasure of humiliating her in front of over half their class.
“Is it true that you have a crush on Langdon?”
Mel rolls her eyes. “No, it is not.”
“But you two do everything together.”
“Yeah, it’s called friendship.”
Mallory scrunches her nose once again, smiling forcefully and gestures for Mel to spin the bottle. It lands on Sarah; a girl she’s somewhat friends with.
“Truth or dare, Sarah?” she asks.
“Dare.”
She dares Sarah to eat a spoonful of cinnamon and mayo, which she does grimacing, looking almost in pain.
The game continues until Lola, the minion, spins and it lands on Frank, who at this point is a little too bored and is tugging at the skin of Mel’s knuckles.
“Langdon.” Lola calls and he looks up from Mel’s hand, realizing they weren’t alone. “Truth or dare?”
He glanced at Mel and she shrugged.
“Hm, dare.” He replies.
Oh, you poor boy.
Lola smiles wickedly, like he’s a mouse that got caught in her trap. “I dare you to kiss Mallory.”
The birthday girl gasps in fake surprise – they had obviously schemed that and Mel fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Frank has a small grimace on his face as he mumbles: “Okay…”
Mallory grins like she’s won the lottery and gets on her knees ready for him to kiss her.
Frank glances at Mel once again then leans in and his lips touch Mallory’s.
It wasn’t big and romantic. It was a four-second-long peck.
But it was long enough to make Mel’s stomach hurl and an acidic taste appeared in her mouth.
When they separate, Frank sits beside her and wipes his lip with the back of his hand. He spins the bottle and it lands on Parker, a boy who lives just down the street from the two of them.
Mel doesn’t pay attention to whether he picks truth or dare. But she does notice the way Frank’s fingers pull her hand back to his lap and begin fidgeting with the skin of her knuckles.
It takes Melissa King exactly seven summers to discover what Frank Langdon’s name tastes like. She was used to it, the sweet and fresh and bubbly feeling on her mouth.
But it’s only in the summer before eighth grade that she finds out what exactly that feeling is.
It’s a sultry afternoon and instead of staying home watching TV or reading a book, they go out to get ice cream downtown.
They order the exact same thing as always. Mel wants strawberry ice cream on the cup with rainbow sprinkles and Frank orders mint chocolate chip on the cone.
They choose the corner booth and sit across from each other. Mel’s sweaty thighs stick to the thick red leather seats, and she tries not to get so bothered by it.
Mel is not the biggest fan of clothes.
She picks cotton T-shirts, tank tops or baby-tees that don’t fit too tightly, she wears tiny jeans shorts during the summer and baggy sweatpants the rest of the year. And she would also probably sleep naked if she could, but Frank has the awful habit of climbing her window some mornings, so she’d rather not risk it.
Their rooms were connected due to the long branch that reaches Frank’s bedroom window and led him to the tree house, then to another thick branch that reaches Mel’s bedroom window.
“I still can’t believe you like that thing.” She mumbled, watching Frank lick the green-colored ice cream.
“It’s delicious.” He responds with his mouth full.
“It tastes like toothpaste.”
“You haven’t even tried it!” he points it out. “Just once, Mellie, please.”
She rolls his eyes but parts her lips anyway so he can shove a spoonful of it in her mouth.
It takes a millisecond for realization to hit her. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops in shock. “Frank that’s it!”
He frowns. “What d’ya mean?”
“This is your taste!” she exclaims, receiving some questioning looks from a few older girls sitting in the counter.
His face changes, eyes widen with excitement. “You’re kidding.”
“I swear on my mother’s name, Frank. This is it!”
They high five then fist bump excitedly.
“See? Told ya this was good.”
AGE 16.
Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac is playing from the vintage record player in the corner of Mel’s room. It’s a lazy breezy afternoon mid-September. Mel and Frank – now juniors – lay in opposite directions on her bed.
He’s in a pair of grey sweatpants and she’s in a white baby tee – no bra – and shorts.
Anthropologically speaking, Mel and Frank as a boy and a girl were expected to face some awkward sexually related issues during puberty, like blurring the so-familiar boundaries of their friendship.
Instead, they only seemed to grow more comfortable around each other and in their bodies.
Mel still has issues related to clothes. For one, she doesn’t wear wired bras, they poke her skin and feel tight around her ribcage. Instead, she wears bralettes, mostly ones with no cups.
At home, she doesn’t even wear them at all, unclasping them as soon as she crosses the threshold and throws it somewhere in her room.
She even does it in front of Frank, who instead of making it weird throws himself onto her bed, kicks off his shoes and socks and pulls off his shirt.
After she confessed to him that her synesthesia made her hyper-sensitive sensorially wise, so wearing certain fabrics for too long felt like a challenge for her, he’d do his best to not make her uncomfortable about it.
“What color’s this song?” Frank asks, his hand resting under her shirt, on her left ribcage. His thumb tracing invisible circles on her skin.
“You ask me this every time.” She nudges his chest with her knee.
“Well, tell me again. I’ve forgotten.” She can practically hear the grin in his smug tone.
“It’s golden. Think of aged gold jewelry. And Stevie Nick’s voice tastes like viscous maple syrup.”
Mel stretched her arms above her head like a cat, as Frank continues to trace her skin.
“I love the way you describe it.” He hums. “It’s almost like poetry.”
“I have a cool superpower. I need to use even cooler words.”
He laughs.
A soft breeze enters the window and makes her curtains flow. Mel closes her eyes for a second and focuses on his warm touch on her skin.
The record player makes a machine-like sound, then You Make Loving Fun fills up her room.
Frank starts to sing along, weakly; his fingers now drumming against her ribcage along the rhythm.
Mel squirms a little, then leans on her elbows, looking at Frank.
“What?” he asks.
“Hm…” she hesitates. “Do you… well, do you remember Jessica Stone’s party last week?”
“The one we drank that ass-tasting beer? Yeah, unfortunately I do.”
She sits up fully and his hand falls to her thigh.
“Carson came up to me.”
Frank leans on his right elbow, eyebrows furrowed. “Carson? Andrews? Carson Andrews as in my teammate?”
She nods.
When they entered high school, Frank decided to follow in his older brother’s footsteps and joined the lacrosse team. He wasn’t just a ‘legacy’ – as coach Simmons likes to call – he was also one hell of a player and probably will be team captain the following year.
“He, he came to me and asked if I wanted to go to the movies with him this Saturday.”
Frank nods slowly. “So, you’re going?”
“Yeah. But the thing is, it’s the movies.” She explains.
“So?”
“Jesus Christ Frank, no one goes to the movies to actually watch a movie.”
It takes him half a second, but realization slowly comes to him. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” She says. “But I… I don’t-”
He presses his hand on her knee as she takes a deep breath in.
“I have never kissed before, Frank. What if I do it and it sucks and Carson tells the entire school how much of a bad kisser I am?”
“Hey, no. Listen, don’t panic about that.” He assures, sitting up against her headboard.
She snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause I’ll magically learn how to kiss in three days.
Frank shrugs. “I can teach you.”
“Huh?!”
“Mel, it’s just a kiss. Completely platonic.” He says.
She makes a face and he deadpans at her. “Mel, I literally had my hand up your shirt not even five minutes ago.” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “It’s just a kiss. It’s… practice.”
“Practice?”
He nods. “Practice. I teach you how to kiss and you’ll pay for gas the next time I fill Sally up.”
When Nate – Nathaniel – Langdon left for college, his parents gifted him a semi-new car. Meaning, his cherry red pickup truck was given to Frank, since his sister, Bee – Beatrice – wanted nothing to do with it, claiming it was a ‘big pile of junk decorated with a splash of red nail polish’.
He extends his hands and Mel shakes it. “Deal.”
Frank smiles. “First, take off your glasses.”
She takes them off and places them on her bedside table next to her current read – Black Swans by Eve Babitz.
He then pulls her by the legs, so their thighs are touching.
“We’ll start slow, ok?”
His warm right palm comes to her cheek, while the other hand rests on her knee. First, it’s a peck. A sweet, innocent short peck.
Their lips feel soft pressed together, and butterflies start flying in Mel’s stomach.
Then, it’s a kiss. A little longer, their lips fitting better together.
Her heart is thundering and she feels warm, even with the late summer breeze running through her window.
She thinks they’re lucky that nobody’s home.
Becca’s at her center, her father is a couple hours away in Durham, probably giving a Late Medieval Literature and Culture lecture at Duke; and her mother is probably getting annoyed at a handful of undergrads majoring in History at UNC.
They had the house all to themselves for at least another two hours and a half.
Frank pulls away gently and there’s something in his eyes Mel can’t quite decode.
“I’ll need you to part your lips a little bit, Mellie. Think you can do that?”
His thumb and index fingers hold her chin in place, his other hand on her upper thigh.
She bites her bottom lip and nods.
He tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream – is all she can think when his tongue brushes hers.
It’s golden and it’s warm and it’s home.
His soft touch turns into a grip on her jaw, guiding her on what to do. He hooks his hands under her thighs and pulls her onto his lap.
“Jesus.” He grunts as Mel moves her hips to adjust herself.
Langdon lazily starts kissing her neck; tongue and lips sucking onto her skin just enough to bruise.
He was marking her.
Territorial arrogant dipshit. – she thought.
He palms her ass, pulling her core to his.
“Fuck, Frank.” She breathes out, eyes rolling involuntarily.
The music keeps playing but the only thing Mel can focus on is Frank’s body against hers. He leaves a hickey where her neck meets her shoulder and she dugs her nails into his naked back.
Frank hisses. “Fucking God, Mel.”
“By dinner I’ll have a whole collection of hickeys, Langdon. If you’re marking me, I’m marking you.”
He smirked.
“Kinky.”
“Oh, shut up.” Then she kisses him again.
Years later, Mel would think about this moment and realize that nothing – and really, nothing – would ever be the same afterwards.
Because, instead of a celeste blue, calm and cooling, Frank Langdon is now somewhat iridescent, a color she can’t quite describe. He is warm and luscious, running through her veins, consuming her whole.
He pulls away for a moment, heavy breathing and heart thundering loud enough for Mel to hear – or maybe it was her own heartbeat.
“Guess you’re good for your date.” He comments in between deep breaths.
What?
Oh.
Their haze – thick and bewitching – disappears suddenly. All that was practice. Meaningless.
“Yeah. Thanks.” She says, trying to slowly climb off his lap.
But his hands are glued to her hips, and his eyes hungrily stare at her lips. And she wants more and more and more.
“Wanna eat something?” she mutters.
He nods, finally looking up to her eyes. “Sure.”
AGE 18.
Older Mel would obviously perceive being a virgin at eighteen years old as something completely normal. But eighteen-year-old Mel would see it as total and complete social suicide.
Summer had just started and she was eager for some action – not just sexual but anything really. Maybe go on a hike, or on a road-trip. Honestly, anything other than being stuck at her house with Becca religiously rewatching Monte Carlo.
Frank had gotten a job at his uncle’s body shop and would spend most of his mornings there. Meaning: Mel would spend most of her mornings alone.
He had also just ended a relationship with Lily Warner, a sweet girl who had moved into town just last year, and afterwards he swore off relationships.
In just three months, they’d be packing half their lives into Sally and moving to Boston. Northeastern University had never been a dream for either of them, but it was just perfect.
And Mel could not be more excited.
Except for the fact that she’s still a virgin and she hates it.
And that’s why, on a sunny Friday morning, Mel stomps into the body shop to find Frank.
“Hey!” she greets him excitedly.
He’s wearing a tank top and the bottoms of his mechanic jumpsuit and frowns when he sees her practically skipping towards him. “Mornin’ sunshine. What brings you to my humble workplace.”
She tilts her head to the side, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well can’t I come see my best friend?”
“Melissa.” He deadpans.
“Fine.” She huffs. “We need to have sex.”
His eyes practically jump out of his face. “I beg your pardon?” his accent turned thick.
She rolls her eyes. “Practice.”
He leans against Sally – that was once again at the repairs – and wipes his grime-stained hands on a cloth. “You wanna have sex with me, for practice?”
“I’m eighteen and a virgin who’s going to college eight hundred miles away, Frank. I’m sorta desperate here.”
“Geez thanks.” He mutters. “But you know, sex isn’t that big of a deal.”
“Says the guy who lost his virginity at sixteen.”
“Mel…”
“Frank please.” She asks. “Just, please, I’ll do anything you want.”
He stops to think for a minute. “Let’s make a deal. If we do it, and you don’t like it, you can set me up with any girl you want.”
“Even Mallory?” she asks almost excitedly.
The mere thought of having Frank miserable for a whole night while on a date with Mallory Channing makes her glow.
“Even Mallory, baby.” He nods.
“But if I do like it?” she asks.
He pulls away from Sally and stands less than an inch away from her. They hadn’t been this close since their practice kissing in her bedroom nearly two years ago.
“Then you are strictly forbidden of going out with anyone else. For the whole summer.”
She wants to laugh at his absurdity. “I’m forbidden? That’s sexist. And possessive.” She presses her point finger on his chest. “Why am I the only one who’s forbidden of going out with other guys?”
He smirks and leans closer. “Because I’m sure that after I taste you, Mellie, I’ll never want anyone ever again.”
Oh.
She clears her throat. “So, tomorrow?”
He laughs. “Tomorrow.”
His house is empty for the next couple weeks. Nate moved out years ago and Beatrice decided to move to England to study abroad. And with only Frank in the nest still, his parents decided to go on a cruise.
So, they had an entire house all for themselves.
Her parents never thought that her sleeping over was weird, since over the last twelve years Mel and Frank have proved they’re nothing other than platonic.
He kisses her before the front door even closes. Her back is suddenly pressed against the wood, and his lips take over hers.
“God, I had forgotten how sweet you are.” He mumbles.
And Mel had nearly forgotten how ethereal he felt.
He grabs her ass with a hand while the other holds her neck possessively.
He’s still obsessed with marking her.
Mel hooks her fingers through his belt loops and presses her hips against him, moaning desperately.
Frank smirks. “Patience, baby.”
“No.” she whimpers. “We can take it slow later; I need it now.”
“Later?” he asks. “We haven’t even had sex yet and you’re already thinking about later, Sweetheart?”
It made her feel dirty and promiscuous, but she kept burning for more.
“Your room.” She pleads, arching her back and pressing herself more into him.
“Ask nicely.” He mutters as he kisses her neck.
God, she hoped he’d leave another hickey.
Last time, it took her a whole week to get rid of them all. And for a whole week she had a physical reminder that she had made out with Frank Langdon.
“Please, Frank. Take me to your room.”
The words are barely out of her mouth when he hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his hands firmly gripping her ass.
They climb up the stairs, and he kicks the bedroom door open. She’s thrown into the bed, not aggressively, but not like she’s made of glass.
“Take you shirt off.” She demands.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I wanna scratch your back again.” she mumbles.
He smirks maliciously and pulls his shirt off with one single hand.
Mel’s sure she’s soaked at this point.
Frank pulls her up again, just to sit on bed and sits her on his lap.
“You’re a very kinky girl, aren’t you, Melissa King?” he tugs her core closer to his.
She bites back a moan.
“Hm? Answer me, pretty girl.” He starts kissing her sternum through the fabric of her shirt.
His voice, his lips so close to her breasts and his hands on her ass; She’s sure she can orgasm just from that.
“Make me cum. Please. Any way you want just… just please, Frank.” She moans, throwing her head back.
He stares at her like she had just offered him a million dollars. “Any way I want?”
She nods.
His hands move to pull her t-shirt off, exposing her breasts, with a malicious smile on his face.
“Oh, I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about these…” Frank mutters as he mouths one of her breasts, as his left hand teases the other.
Mel arches her back, pushing herself more into him, and a whimper escapes her lips. Her nails dug deeper into his shoulders as he continues to worship her body.
His lips trace her breasts, then her sternum and collarbone her chin and finally her lips.
“You sure about this, baby?” he asks, his voice in the soft tone he can only use with her.
She holds his face with both hands. “Frank, I’m begging you.” And kisses him again.
With a sudden – yet delicate – move, he switches their positions, until she’s laying back on the bed. Frank kisses down her body until he reaches her shorts.
He looks up at her, and all Mel can do is lift her hips to him. He pulls her shorts down and groans at the sight of her underwear – a pair of white panties with some little lace detailing – and presses his forehead against her lower stomach.
“Ok, I’ll have to go to church tomorrow after all this.” He mutters against her skin.
Mel frowns. “Why?”
“Because Melissa King, you are making me a very, very sinful man.” He kisses her again.
His fingers pull her underwear off slowly. And she notices the way he gulps when she’s finally naked.
Mel presses her hand to Frank’s forehead, pushing inches away from her, and he nearly whimpers. “You still have your pants on.”
He smirks again and rises to his feet to unzip his pants. Mel licks her lips at the sight of him in his briefs.
“May I please wat you now, baby?” he pleads.
Instead of replying, Mel spreads her legs just a little more and Frank falls to his knees.
Kisses her thighs, slowly, tortuously, then finally where she needs him most.
No wonder Lily Warner couldn’t get her hands off him. Frank Langdon was a sex god, and he knew how to eat a woman out.
He places her thighs on each of his shoulders and that angle makes Mel see stars. She pulls his hair and she’s sure he’s moaning against her flesh.
Frank sucks on her clit and her orgasm builds up so fast she can’t even contain the cry that escapes her lips as she reaches her peak, arching her back and pressing his face deeper into her.
As her breath steadies, he keeps kissing her cunt, slowly, calm, no rush at all.
“Jesus Christ.” She breathes out.
“Amen.” He mutters, kissing up her body until he reaches her lips. “You good?”
She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him like life depends on it.
“Will you please fuck me now?” he groans and rests his forehead on her shoulder.
“Baby, you can’t just ask me stuff like this.”
“Why?” she frowns.
“Cause I’m barely holding myself together here.” He whispers and nibbles on her bottom lip.
“Then, fuck me.” she states like it’s obvious.
Frank laughs. “Ma’am yes ma’am.”
He pulls away to kick off his underwear. Mel bites her lips at the sight of him fully naked for her.
A wave of jealousy hits her when she realizes she’s not the only person who has seen him like this. God, she’s not even the first person to see him like this!
He reaches for the drawer on his bedside table, but she stops him.
“No condom.” She says, sitting up.
“What?” he freezes.
So, she’s the first person to ask him that. Huh.
“I’ve read that it’s much better without it and I have an IUD.”
“You’ve read about it?” he asks.
Mel nods. “Well since you said yes to me, I did some research.” She shrugs.
“So, you are one hundred percent sure you want to do it without a condom?”
“One hundred and ten percent.” She agrees. “You?”
Frank hesitates for a heartbeat too long. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
She smiles and kisses him again, pulling him down to lie with her. He presses the tip of his cock against her entrance and she shivers with pleasure.
“It’s gonna hurt a little.” He whispers.
“I can handle it.”
He kisses her temple as he enters her.
And Mel bleeds golden from the inside out. It’s explosive and overpowering but her brain keeps chanting more more more more.
“You’re doing so well, baby. You feel so good. Such a good job.” Frank kisses behind her ear, then her neck.
She digs her nails into his back and moves her hips searching for more friction.
“Can you move, please?” she begs.
“You sure?”
She can only nod frantically.
And it feels like the missing piece in the puzzle of her life. Maybe this is where Mel belonged all along.
Here, beneath Frank, with their bodies intertwined, she finally feels good in her own skin. She’s not a stranger trapped inside her body.
She’s complete.
This time, the orgasm comes slowly, in a strong wave of pleasure.
“Come inside. Please.” She begs.
“You want me to come inside you, baby? Hm? You want me to make you mine?” he whispers in her ear.
“I’m yours.” She replies, breathing unsteadily.
Adrenaline runs into her veins as they come and for the first time ever, her brain is silent except for the soft buzz.
frankfrankfrankfrnakfrankfrankfrankfrankfrankfrank.
He pulls out and she can feel a thick liquid running down her thighs.
“I gotta go to the bathroom.” She whispers.
She runs to the bathroom and doesn’t even bother to close the door as she pees. – Frank has officially seen her everything peeing is like nothing.
When she’s done, she climbs back into bed and straight into his arms. Mel kisses his neck and face, and Frank pulls her into a deep kiss.
“You good?” he asks.
She nods, licking her lips. “You won.”
He grins. “That I did, baby.”