My true love gave to me [Death]

[googlefont="Rock Salt:400"]Sail Dawson

"Ay, Ma!" you call down the stairs, belt clicking as you slide it through the belt loops of  your slacks. "You hear a knock yet?"

A light chuckle returns to you. "Not  yet, Sail. She'll be here soon. Don't worry."

You run your fingers through your hair and take a deep breath. They'll like her. They love me. I like love her. They'll like her.

Roughened fingers nip the buttons of your red shirt into place until you look down and realize you've fastened them one too high. You groan and shuffle back to your bedroom to stand on the splintering wood floor in front of your mirror and re-button and tuck in the dress shirt.

The black leather belt with the silver buckle clinks as you loop one end through the square hole and push the prong through its respective notch. Still in socks. The fun kind knitted from synthetic yarn your mother found in the bottom of the bargain bin at the local craft store-- scarlet peeking out from under swishing black pant-bottoms.

Smells from Ma's cooking swims in under your bedroom door. No fish tonight. You ate fish every night. Fisherman's family-- what do you expect? XD Your father had found a small chunk of lamb and your mother had expertly chopped it up and sunk it into a spicy stew. Whiffs of it had been sneaking upstairs all afternoon, but with your door open now, you were defenseless against the onslaught of utter, buttery deliciousness.

You flop down on top of your bed. The one you've been sneaking Nia up to on the rare occasion your own humble abode was required rather than using her place for your... dalliances. If you closed your eyes, you could feel the soft, supple skin of her hips and inner thighs. The way that silky place below her ear and between her breasts felt against your lips. The smell of her-- freshly washed, hair floating slightly in the breeze as she saunters right over to you-- is vague but intoxicating even in memory. The sound her heels make against pavement--

Her heels against pavement? You prick up your ears and listen to the faint clack of shoe against asphalt. Getting louder. And louder.

Without waiting for her knock, you fly down the stairs, mussing your hair as you go. Just as her gentle rap rings out in the hallway and your father pokes his head out of the kitchen, you grip the door handle, twist and pull like you're pulling out the cork of an already-opened wine bottle.

"Right on time!" your mother calls from the kitchen just as you had opened your mouth to greet her. She joins your father in the hallway, wiping her hands off on an ancient dish towel from another generation. "I hope you're hungry, Miss Krearns. We have a feast awaiting you."

You smile at your mother then turn back to Nia. Putting a finger under her chin, your tilt her head up to yours and smile before pressing your lips to hers.

"You look ravishing, my dear," you murmur, placing a hand between the small of her back and her side. Lowering your voice so only she can hear and adding a twist of smirking brows and lips, you add, "Maybe I will have to forgo dessert and eat you instead."