Mollify
Authors: Xavier Neal
mOLLIFY
A SENSES SERIES NOVEL
XAVIER NEAL
MOLLIFY
Copyright© 2015 by Xavier Neal
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Dedication
Dedicated To The Universe: I’m glad you know what you’re doing even when I don’t...Thanks.
Chapter 1
Dean
In case you didn’t know, the only sound sexier than a woman on the brink of an orgasm, is a woman on the brink of an orgasm that’s being given by me. We can test that if you wanna disagree.
“Mmm...” she whimpers clutching the back of my head to keep me latched in place while my tongue strokes away tasting the most addictive flavor of fun in the entire universe. “Oh...Oh..Ohhhh!!! I’m coming! I’m coming!” I lap at the new juices, my afternoon snack about as sweet as I expected it. Her legs continue to shake, my face now smothered so deep I can’t breathe.
Yeah. That would be a fun one to explain to my parents. “No. No. It’s cool. I just passed out because her orgasm suffocated me. You’ve been there right dad?” Ha. He would understand and probably fist bump me before getting us both grounded.
Finally pulling my face free, I use the edge of my white t-shirt to remove the shine.
Great face cleanser. Opens the pores. Oh what? Don’t look at me like that. That was funny.
“That’s why they call you Mr. O,” the girl says trying to lift herself up on her unsteady elbows.
“No baby.” I rip off the shirt I was just trying to use as a towel, exposing my muscular chest from hours at work and working out. “That’s just the
start
of why they call me Mr. O.” Two steps is all I make it before there’s a rattle of my door knob.
“Bubba....” my baby sister’s voice says from the other side of the door. My eyes cut that direction, which is when she rattles the door again. “Bubba...Bubba...”
“I’m coming Little Bit,” I respond loudly, picking my shirt back up. Turning my attention to the half-dressed, willing and waiting girl on my bed, I shrug. “Sorry. Little Bit comes first.”
“Seriously?” Her annoyance is expressed in a squeak.
So that noise doesn’t just happen during sex? She have a built in squeaker? What is she a chew toy? Well, I was chewing on that toy...I see that smirk. It’s okay. Laugh. You’re gonna have fun with me.
“Seriously. Family first.” With the tip of my foot I kick her bra and t-shirt combination into my hands. “Get dressed.”
“Bubba...” her voice now sounds sad and my heart breaks.
My 3 year old sister has had me wrapped around her finger since before she was born. Did you know painting at 3 A.M. before a history test isn’t wise?
“Coming,” I call back. My hand motions for the girl whose name I don’t remember to hurry it the fuck up. Once her shirt and bra are back on, I open my bedroom door to see a very displeased three year old pouting.
“Too long Bubba.”
“I’m sorry.” My arms swoop up the perfect combination of my parents. “Forgive me?”
“Cost you a cupcake Bubba.” She tries to bargain playing with her brown curls.
She gets that cupcake obsession from mom. I wonder if hers started this early.
“How about a bag of Goldfish and a juice box?”
Her tiny face scrunches like she’s doing math only a three year old could understand. After a beat she nods excited and rests her head on my chest. Kissing her forehead, I start down the direction of the hallway that leaks directly into the stairs when a voice from behind me halts my steps.
“What about me?” The girl stomps her foot.
“Take the other set of stairs. You’ll pass by the front door. Use it.”
My cold words are followed by Faith scolding, “You should share goldfish with her.”
Smirking, I kiss her forehead again. “Nah. I only share goldfish with girls that are special.”
“Like my pi-pi,” she adds the fact about her pink stuffed bunny I bought her for her birthday.
“Exactly,” I reply as we travel down the stairs, the sound of a huffy half pleased female somewhere in the distance.
I don’t know what the fuck her problem is. She got one off. I’m the one who will have to jack it later tonight. She should count herself fucking blessed my tongue landed on her. There’s a fucking waiting list.
The front door slams moments before we arrive into the kitchen that connects with the open living room space. With Faith still in my arms, I open the walk in pantry door, grab us a couple bags of goldfish before making a pit stop to grab juice boxes from the fridge. Once we’re equipped for her afternoon snack, I place her at the table in her booster seat beside me.
“You have a good nap?” I ask while poking the straw in her juice box.
“I wanna color.” She yawns.
“We can color.”
“With chalk.”
My eyebrows raise knowing she’s pushing it, and she raises her chin in defiance.
I know what you’re thinking. What makes this bite-sized bundle of cuteness so goddamn special? Aside from the fact I am the most important man in her life next to our dad, she’s the most important woman in mine next to our mom. She’s the little miracle that sealed my parents together at a time when they needed it most. And before you start doing math only to get yourself wound up in something that doesn’t make any fucking sense, I should go ahead and mention, I’m adopted. Logan “Unbreakable” Kellar, now world famous MMA fighter, found me at 16 and claimed me as his own. Funny thing about my dad. When he claims you as anything? That’s it. Stories over.
Planting on an innocent face, Faith puts a goldfish in her mouth and giggles, a sound I can’t resist even in the worst situations. “Please Bubba...”
“Damn it,” I grumble knowing I’m going to have to cave.
“Mouf.” She points at me.
“You wanna color with chalk or not?”
“Not,” my mother’s voice appears in the kitchen along with the sound of rattling grocery bags. “You know how hard it is to get chalk out of her clothes and you hate to do laundry as much as the rest of us.”
“I know.” I pop up to help grab the rest when my dad, comes around the corner with the remaining bags.
They’re only about 10 years older than me, so to a lot of people it looks weird that I call them mom and dad, but fuck other people. They took me in and saved me from dying at the hands of my old man who tried to beat me to death. The dick came close before I started making longer escapes. Dad signed adoption papers to make me his and when him and mom got married, she legally did the same. A few strings were pulled to rush the process, and manipulate the system, but that’s beside the point. There hasn’t been a single moment I’ve been in their lives that they didn’t treat me like their son. Like family. How could I not call the only people who’ve treated me like parents should, mom and dad?
“But you know how hard it is to tell her no?” I smirk opening bags to help put the items away.
“God do I,” Dad mumbles and heads for her.
“Daddy!” she squeals immediately demanding for him to pick her up with hand motions.
“Faith!” He says back in the same excited tone lifting her up. “How’s daddy’s favorite little girl?”
My face smirks at the sight and sound of an ex MMA world champion in his division cooing and awing over his caramel colored child with bright blue eyes that match our own and a head full of springing curls.
I don’t care who are. That’s fucking adorable.
“Better with a cupcake,” she hums playing with the collar of his button down company shirt.
“Wonder where she learned that,” my mumble gets a playful elbow from my mom.
“No cupcakes right now. We’re gonna have cake at Mimi’s,” he says grabbing a Goldfish cracker out of her bag. Turning his attention to me he asks, “Kid, did you pick up the cake?”
Fuck. I knew there was something I was forgetting.
“Uh...”
“He got it daddy!” Faith exclaims. “That’s why his friend kept making those sounds mommy makes when she eats cupcakes. Mmm mmm,” she describes.
Immediately my face bursts red at the same time both my parents turn their attention to me. Dad looks like he wants to laugh, but Mom looks furious.
We’re talking I might not make it to 20 kind of furious.
“She was so happy! I bet she ate all the cake!” Faith claps her hands together. “We might need to get another cake.”
“Unbelievable,” Mom mutters, pulling out a prescription bag from the grocery sack as well as paper towels.
“What’s unbelievable is you got a refill.” Dad snaps while I put away the last of the items on the counter. “Seriously Maxx?”
“Oh no.” She waves a finger at him. “One headache a time. The first being our son who had a ‘cake’ party while his baby sister was sleeping in the other room.”
Shit. So close to the attention not being on me. You thought I was clear for a second too didn’t you?
“Fine,” he grumbles putting Faith down. “Little Bit can you be a big girl for daddy? I need you to go upstairs and put your shoes on so you can ride with Bubba to get more cake.”
“I wear the pink ones!”
“With socks,” Mom inserts placing both hands on the island counter top. “You can wear them with socks.”
“I don’t like socks,” she pouts sticking her bottom lip out.
“Too bad. With socks or pick other shoes.” Mom states firmly.
“Daddy...” she whines at him.
Immediately his shoulders slump and I can see him on the verge of caving.
Oh no, no, no. Disaster is already brewing. If he caves that’s gonna be a shit storm I’m not prepared to shelter. Not with nuts this blue.
“Little Bit, Bubba is gonna wear socks too.” I encourage her. “Let’s match.”
“Okay!” She squeals and runs off the direction of the other set of stairs.
Mom shoots a look of thanks before it’s quickly washed away.
It was worth a shot to rack up brownie points first. Can’t blame a guy for playing the odds. Don’t you wanna take me to Vegas? What do you mean I’m not that lucky?
“You had a girl over while you were supposed to be watching your sister?” She snaps in a whisper.
“She was supposed to be gone before Faith woke up,” I try to explain. “She didn’t nap as long as she should’ve.”
“And?” Mom bites. “What the hell does that matter? I’ve told you and told you and told you, I don’t want strange girls in the house while you watch your sister.”
“She wasn’t strange,” my playful approach is added with a smirk.
“Oh yeah?” Dad leans his arms on the counter close to where mom is standing. “What was her name?”
Wracking my brain, I try to hide the fact I have no fucking clue.
Hey, let’s hold the judgments for a second. I barely remember what I ate for breakfast, why would you expect me to remember what I ate for a snack?
“Wonder where he learned that from.” She gives Dad a sour look.
“Don’t start.” Dad stands up straight. “This shit isn’t about me. Or us. It’s about the Kid and his lack of responsibility.”
“I take full responsibility for making her come,” the joke makes Dad smirk as expected and Mom’s jaw drop, but most importantly it takes the tension that’s been eating the house alive down a notch.
Not real sure what the issue is exactly, but they have been less than pleasant these past couple of days, which says a lot. Typically they can’t keep their hands off each other, which should creep me out but it doesn’t. I like having happy parents. Parents in love.
“Dean Kellar!” She yells at me.
“Sorry,” I sincerely apologize.
After a long exhale she says, “Look, I know you’re 19. I know you wanna have sex all the time, that’s not the issue for me. I have no problem with you sowing your wild seeds as long as you’re wrapping it—”
“Always do.”
“And as long as you respect the boundaries that are in this house in regards to your baby sister. You don’t like it? You can leave.”
I shove my hands in my gym shorts. “You’re kicking me out?”
“Kid,” Dad speaks up. “You know damn well we would never kick you out of the house. We’re just saying if you need the space, the freedom to mouth bang chicks without having to worry about waking up your baby sister, we get it, and we won’t be upset with you for choosing to leave.”
“Mouth bang?” She looks at him with disgust. “Really?”
“You like a good mouth bang.” He wets his lips at her.
Laughing, I shake my head at her reaction of rolling her eyes.
For the last almost four years of my life, I have been blessed to have them feed me, ground me, and accept me for just being me. They’ve never tip toed around real issues or fed me bullshit about illusions about sex or drugs. In their defense I was 16 when they got me, but even so, they kept it real and I think in the long run it’s probably saved me from some jail time.
“I’m sorry,” my laugh fades and a sincere voice comes out of me. “Really. It won’t happen again.” Like the softy she is, Mom’s shoulders slump, and her mocha face softens. “No strange girls in the house when I should be watching Little Bit. Promise.”
She nods and touches the side of my face. “Good.” I smile. “But you’re still getting punished.”
“Aw, damn it,” I grump at the same time Little Bit comes around the corner.
“Mouf.” She points.
“Mouth.” Mom agrees.
“Logan, what do you think we should—” is all that makes it out of her before his phone rings and he promptly answers it. A frustrated look comes on her face as she shakes her head. “Unbelievable.” I open my mouth and she points, “Don’t. Just take your sister to get Mimi’s birthday cake. I’ll come up with your punishment later.”
“If you just happen to forget it, don’t stress too much.”
She shoots me a harsh look.
“Come on Faith.” I pick her up.
I can’t help it. Little girl loves when I carry her. Honestly? Love to do it.
“Give mommy a kiss before we go. She needs it.”
Faith plants a kiss on her lips. “I love you mommy.”
“I love you too Little Bit.” Mom shoots me a wink. “And you too Kid.”
With a smirk, I lean over and plant a kiss on her cheek before heading to my car with Faith tugging at the lanyard around my neck, which is home to my keys and security badge for work.
What can I say? Not your typical lifestyle, but guess what baby? Not your typical 19 year old.