#burnt a cake i had to bake for her guests and added too much salt when making their dinner but

[alongtidesoflight]

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[the-coconut-asado]

NUT MILK CITY LIMITS

This should have been my Boston blog. And I will write one, someday soon. 

But limited as we are to four walls, dodging pavement cyclists and the kindness of delivery folk, let’s settle for a tale of lockdown invention. 

That said, my story does start in Boston - or rather, leaving it. It was the real start of The Weird, around early-mid March, when I still took the tube into work and was looking forward to a visit to the hairdresser (lockdown was announced the day before my appointment in case you were wondering. So there will be no selfies here).  We managed to head off to the US the day that Trump banned the rest of Europe from flying and I won’t lie, we felt lucky. I sat next to a Canadian student on the flight who explained, as she coughed, that she had traded her study trip around  Europe for a £2,000 ticket-chance of getting home. 

We got to our faintly Psycho- throwback hotel that night, where we seemed to be the only guests. And for three days we toured the (mostly shut)  sites of Boston with the streets all but empty. 

At one stage, as we strolled past a CVS store, two young women emerged, insanely juggling 4x16 pack toilet roll bags. How we laughed. The way those pesky kids laugh as the Scooby-ghoul looms behind them. On the Sunday, any holiday vibe had been replaced with low level anxiety, counting down the hours to our flight leaving the US on time and as planned.

And since we landed back in London, that’s been it. Travel now means taking the car for a weekly local drive to keep the battery ticking over, and let’s not dwell on the cancelled trip to Vietnam. The Supermarket Sweep race as you grab random packs off shelves before the personal space invader twats sneak up behind you  is now replaced by the delivery time lotto of Amazon Fresh. Got a formula for that, Dale Winton? 

But there have been new things to smile about: neighbourhoods coming together every Thursday evening to Clap for Carers; the bravery of NHS workers and a whole army of people I hope we’ll never take for granted again; friends and family checking in on each other much more than ever usual. And the travel buzz achieved by changing our backgrounds on Zoom. Don’t knock it,  the endorphin kick is real. 

And dare I say there have been pleasures too: delicious meat, fish and vegetables delivered from local suppliers, and weekends full of invention possibilities. “ Are we all fucking bakers now??” Twitter ranted in week 2 of lockdown  as flour and eggs became the New Disappeared. Cashew milk, the one nut milk I enjoy, became similarly scarce for a short while, but I discovered the eye-wateringly expensive delights of Milkadamia until sanity returned. 

Faced with the random nature of vegetable boxes, half used packs of speciality flours otherwise doomed to outlive their sell by date and the excitement of what you can achieve with a carton of buttermilk and bicarb of soda - life in the kitchen is nothing short of a blast right now. Just like wartime? We have no rationing and plenty of Chipotle paste so, er, no. 

Breaking my veg box virginity has been liberating. There are the highs of high-sheen aubergines and those creamy new potatoes of the season, and the occasional low of celery on three consecutive weeks. But the thrill of anticipation when we open the door to a new box is palpable. And finding specialist suppliers for everything from sumac to burrata has made me realise that up until the pandemic I’d been shopping all wrong and wasting far too much money. With the simple elimination of impulse purchase I have hit my notional monthly food budget for the first time ever. 

So here are a bunch of recipes for what I consider my best lockdown experiments. Stock up on your store cupboard essentials and you can use whatever basics are available that week. And by store cupboard essentials I mean: Olive and coconut oils, smoked paprika, cumin, turmeric, chilli flakes, soy sauce, baking powder and bicarbonate of soda (you don’t need yeast for soda bread or flat breads). And whatever flour you can find, you’ll be able to do something with it. 

Bolli-cauli biryani with camargue rice

Forget boiling cauliflower ever again. Chop florets, toss them in spice and oil and roast to crispy, caramelised deliciousness every time. Serves 2-3. 

Ingredients

1 medium cauliflower, cut into florets, then cut each floret in half to create bite size pieces

The cauliflower leaves, pulled from the fibrous stalks

2 medium red onions, quartered

1-2 large red chillies, split from top to bottom but kept intact

2 tsp. Sumac

2 tsp ground cumin

1 tsp kosher salt

Generous grind of black pepper

1 tsp chilli flakes

3 tbsp. Olive oil

300g camargue red rice (1 small mug)

25g salted butter

Plan yoghurt to serve

How to make:

Heat the oven to 190C. 

In a large bowl, toss the cauliflower, cauliflower leaves, chillies and onion (and any other chunky vegetable you hav in the fridge eg.squash, aubergine or courgettes) with the spices and olive oil. Spread out onto a large roasting pan and pop into the oven for 40-45 mins, turning everything half way through. The edges of the vegetables will caramelise and the leaves will crisp up. 

Meanwhile, heat the butter in a saucepan until it bubbles then add the rice and toss until you get a toasty aroma. If you used a small cup, then now add a small cup and an extra quarter cup (or if you measured 300g then add 400ml water) and a generous pinch of salt. Bring to the boil, stirring once and then simmer on a medium heat until the water is all but absorbed (about 15-20  mins). At this point, cover with a lid, turn the heat to low and cook for a further 10-15 mins. Turn off the heat and leave covered for a further 10 minutes before fluffing the rice up. 

When the bolli-cauli is ready, remove from the oven and serve over a generous scoop of the toasty, chewy buttery camargue rice. Add a dollop of yoghurt on the side and some mango chutney to serve. And treat yourself to some poppadoms for the crunch factor. 

Beer and Buttermilk Soda Bread

My favourite bread of the lockdown - and no yeast required.  Based on a Paul Hollywood recipe, mine replaces stout with any old beer or lager you may have  in the fridge, and a range of ‘bin end flours: Wholemeal, basic brown, spelt and strong white. 

Ingredients: 

500g wholemeal flour (or a mix of any brown or grain flours you have)

250g strong white flour

280ml buttermilk

300ml bottle of beer or lager

2 tsp salt

2 Tbsp. bicarbonate of soda

How to make:

Mix the flours, bicarbonate of soda and salt in a large bowl. 

Make a well in the centre and add the buttermilk and beer. 

Mix until everything comes together then knead gently until you have a cohesive ball. 

Pop into a 2lb loaf tin and press slightly into the corners.

Leave to rest for 30 mins. 

Heat the oven to 210C. Bake the loaf for 10 minutes, then turn the oven down to 180C and bake for a further 25-30 minutes. Cool in the tin for 10 minutes then turn out onto a wire rack. The base should sound hollow when you tap it. 

Cool then slice and slather with butter. This bread is also excellent toasted. 

Spinach,  Ricotta and Feta  Pie

The superstar look of this pie as it emerges from the oven belies a super-easy method. If you can’t get hold of ricotta, just use cream cheese. Serves 4. 

Ingredients

7 sheets filo pastry

2 garlic cloves, chopped finely

1 medium onion, finely chopped

250g spinach

1 large egg

1 tsp. Grated nutmeg

250g ricotta, mascarpone or cream cheese. 

125g feta cheese, crumbled

Handful of fresh oregano leaves, chopped finely. 

100ml olive oil. 

1 tsp. Nigella seeds

How to make:

Heat the oven to 200C. 

Heat 1 tbsp. Olive oil in a frying pan then saute the onion and garlic on a low heat until soft. Add the spinach and cook gently until wilted - about 5 minutes. Turn into a sieve or colander and squeeze out as much liquid as you can. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper and put to one side. 

Beat the egg with the ricotta and nutmeg then season. Crumble in the feta, then add the spinach and onion mixture. 

Brush a 22cm loose bottomed cake tin with olive oil and lay a sheet of filo pastry along the bottom and the sides. Brush again with oil, then add a second sheet at an angle to the first. Keep brushing each sheet with oil, then adding the next layers at an angle until you have used six sheets and they are lining the tin in a flower petal formation. 

Tip the spinach and cheese mix into the tin then fold each ‘petal’ of filo on top to form a lid to the tart. Brush with more oil then scrunch up the seventh sheet of filo, perch it on top of the pie and brush with the remaining oil. Scatter over the nigella seeds. 

Pop into the oven for 25-30 minutes (watch the top so it doesn’t turn from golden to burnt). 

Remove from the oven, cool slightly, before releasing the sides of the tin and transferring the pie to a plate to serve. 

Carrot cake muffins with mandarin frosting

Not really the season for carrot-eating, but grated three carrots into this cake mix and you have a winner. And the frosting is a great way to use up mandarins. Makes 6 Large muffins. 

Ingredients

1.5 cups plain flour

1.5 tsp. Bicarb of soda

¾ cup demarara sugar

½ tsp. salt

½ tsp. Cinnamon

1 cup cashew nut milk

2 eggs, beaten

½ cup sunflower oil

1 tsp. Vanilla Extract

3 carrots, shredded

50g pecan nuts, roughly chopped. 

For the frosting: 

Juice of 1 mandarin

1.5 cups icing sugar

How to make

Heat the oven to 180C. 

In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, bicarb. Of soda, sugar, cinnamon and salt. Add the eggs, oil, vanilla and cashew nut milk and mix again until a smooth batter. Fold in the carrots and the pecans. 

In a muffin tin with 6 cases (or double the recipe and use 12). Fill each paper cup with the muffin batter until ¾ full then pop into the oven and bake for 20-25 minutes, until they are fully risen. 

Remove from the oven and cool in the tin before removing each muffin and placing on a cooling rack to cool completely. 

When the muffins are cool, mix the mandarin juice with the icing sugar until you have a smooth and sluggish paste. Ice each muffin and serve. 

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (25)

Just them and the stars

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and not one, but 2 VERY steamy scenes, around 60 diamonds each :D This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 4,000 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, during Drake and Amara’s first evening at the cabin, starting with Drake’s POV.

*****

‘No no, let me carry those!’ Drake yells out as he opens the front door.

Amara chuckles and ignores him, still carrying the multiple bottles they had bought on their errand run. They had to get ready for tomorrow’s barbecue with the gang, and they had decided against champagne for once, so they bought a bunch of liquor and mixers, as well as beer for those who preferred it. Drake only had whiskey and coffee in the cabin, and he wanted his guests to have everything they need.

As he puts the groceries down on the counter, he catches himself smiling for no reason. This feels right. Just him and Amara, about to make dinner together, and tomorrow their friends are coming over. Drake is excited about hosting, he can’t lie. The thought of cooking for everyone, while Amara bakes a cake, and they all share some drinks and talk about life… it sounds exactly right. But suddenly, he feels self conscious about the place. It’s spotless, sure, but also not as luxurious as what people are used to, except for Amara who didn’t grow up in a mansion. Max has been here, he knows the cabin isn’t big, but hopefully Hana and Olivia are not irked about potentially sharing the master bedroom. Enough, Drake thinks. His friends need to get away and his cabin is nice, remote, and quiet, and that’s all that matters.

‘Want me to make a cocktail?’ Amara asks while putting away the bottles.

Drake nods, ‘That would be awesome. I trust your expertise, so surprise me.’

She laughs, ‘Ha! You didn’t say that the first time we met. You demanded a bottle of whiskey, and didn’t let me tell you about the cocktail of the day.’

He smiles, but butterflies rush to his stomach. Is it because he feels emotional talking about his first encounter with the woman he loves? Or is it because he realizes that he was a jerk to her at first? Probably both. ‘About that…’ he says, rubbing the back of his neck, ‘I hope I wasn’t too much of an asshole when we first met. I realize now that I must have sounded like a grumpy bitch.’

Amara laughs in a way that splits his heart open. She’s mixing a margarita, and putting salt on the rim. ‘I mean, you were a little grumpy. I just thought you were protective of your friend. That’s what you told me, anyway.’

He nods. He remembers saying that, when Amara first inquired about why he was asking so many questions, on the plane. ‘I did say that. But really, if I’m honest, I think I knew I would fall for you. Like, right away.’ He pauses. ‘Well, when I ordered the whiskey, I was just being a jerk. I tended to do that a lot, shutting people out. Hell, I had never really had an authentic conversation with anyone at court before you showed up, and then it was like you’re the Sun. When you’re around, I no longer have to make an effort to socialize. I just do it, and I even enjoy it.’

He stops himself, and looks down at his hands, as he’s taking the fish out of the paper wrapper. He’s waiting for Amara to say something, to make fun of him for being such a weirdo. But she doesn’t.

She puts the margaritas down, walks around the island, comes up behind him, and wraps her arms around his waist. She hugs him silently, he feels her breath on his back, warm and comforting. She mutters, ‘I’m happy you’re letting people in.’

���Suarez… I’d hug you back, but I smell like fish.’

They both laugh, and Amara plants a kiss on his back before letting him go and finishing up the margaritas. Drake’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, but puts it back down. Maybe now’s not the time.

‘You can answer, you know. I’ll get started on the rice,’ Amara says.

‘Um, it’s my mom. FaceTiming me. I… was debating answering, if you’re up for saying hi? No pressure!’

Amara smiles broadly and nods. ‘Pick up!’

He clicks on the green circle. ‘Hi Mom.’

*****

Amara had always been good with parents. Her friends’ parents, her ex boyfriends’,... Rick’s mom had loved her so much that she still sends her birthday flowers, and emails whenever she sees something on sale that Amara might like. As it turned out, Amara realized she’d loved his mom more that Rick himself, at the end of the day.

Still, she was nervous about Drake’s mom. He always looked sad when talking about her, and Amara knew they didn’t have a great relationship, especially since Bianca had remarried. So, as Drake chatted with her a bit before introducing them, Amara’s heart was doing loops in her chest. When he finally turned to her and said the magic words, ‘Mom, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,’ she readied herself and plastered on her best parent-friendly smile, bracing for the impact.

‘Mom, this is Amara,’ Drake says as he walks towards her to include her in the shot.

‘Well hello there, Amara,’ his mom says, in a friendly tone.

‘Hi, very nice to meet you,’ Amara replies. She wanted to add ‘Mrs. Walker,’ but she didn’t know if she had taken her new husband’s name or not, so she stopped there.

‘I’m Bianca,’ she added, as if she had read her mind and wanted to clarify what she could call her. ‘Where are you from, darlin’?’

Amara started chatting with her organically. Bianca had a kind face and an open smile, but Amara recognized something in her expression, something she saw in herself and in Drake as well: pain, grief, and all their little friends. Bianca was gorgeous, her hair was long and dark, with some gray strands that gave her charm. When she pushed her hair away from her face, Amara noticed that she was wearing a lot of silver jewelry, rings with natural looking stones, and a bunch of bracelets. She gave off a very hippie chic vibe.

‘Honey, it’s a pleasure to meet you, really,’ she said after a few minutes of conversation. ‘What a wonderful surprise! Drake never introduces me to anyone, I was starting to think he was either embarrassed by me, or very antisocial.’

‘Mom…’ Drake mutters.

Amara laughs, ‘It’s neither, Bianca, I can assure you. Drake is an amazing man, and he speaks very highly of his mom.’

Once they hang up, Drake seems to breathe a little more easily.

‘You ok?’ Amara asks.

He nods. ‘Yeah. Like she said, I never introduced her to anyone, so I guess I was a bit nervous.’

She wraps her arms around him. ‘It went well, so you can relax. Your mom is lovely.’

‘Well, you’re lovely. Let’s have those expertly crafted margaritas, shall we?’

They drink and chat while dinner is cooking, and as she gets tipsier, Amara gets a kick out of observing Drake while he prepares all the food. His dedication while putting the salad together makes her smile.

‘What?’ he notices.

‘Nothing. You’re hot when you’re cooking.’

He drops the knife and the radish and kisses her deeply. She runs her hands on his stomach, and under his shirt.

‘How long til the fish is ready?’ she asks breathlessly.

Drake glances at the oven timer without removing his mouth from her neck. ‘Eleven minutes,’ he whispers.

Before she can say anything, he picks her up and seats her on the kitchen island again. She gasps. ‘Wow Mr. Walker… do we have a kitchen fetish on our hands?’

He raises an eyebrow and reaches under her dress. ‘Let’s find out,’ he says. His hand disappears between Amara’s legs and he strokes her through her panties for a few seconds, enough to turn her on. She kisses him again hungrily. Then, before she can realize what’s happening, he slides her panties down and throws them on the floor. He drops to his knees, and spreads her legs open. He starts by kissing her thighs, his lips travelling dangerously close to her core, which is already burning. ‘Mmmm,’ she moans. Soon enough, his mouth is on her pussy lips, teasing them with soft kisses, before parting them open with his tongue. Her moans grow louder as she realizes she doesn’t have to behave. She grabs his hair and strokes it in circles as he licks and kisses her clit. She feels the familiar wave of pleasure build within her, threatening to release.

BEEP BEEP

The oven alarm. Of course the fish would cockblock her. She sighs, disheartened, but Drake does not stop. He lets it ring, visibly determined to make her come, despite the growing threat of a burnt dinner. She relaxes, and soon enough the wave is back. Drake is kissing her deeply down there, moaning as he does so, and his touch, his dedication send her over the edge. ‘Drake!’ she cries out, as her orgasm overwhelms her.

He kisses her more tenderly and slowly emerges from between her legs, smiling. ‘Fuck, that was hot,’ he whispers. He plants a quick kiss on her lips, and turns around to tend to the oven. ‘No harm done,’ he says, taking the fish out, and removing the lid from the rice.

Amara smiles, spent and satisfied, but most importantly, impressed by Drake’s multitasking.

*****

‘Never have I ever… fired a gun!’

Liv rolls her eyes and drinks. ‘This isn’t fair, Domvallier. You’re making me work for it.’

Rashad laughs heartily. Their game of Never Have I Ever had remained very chaste, which Liv didn’t know whether she was grateful for or not.

‘I should probably get going,’ Rashad says after their, probably, tenth shot of vodka. ‘I don’t want to impose.’

‘Wait,’ Liv says a bit too quickly. ‘Let’s watch another episode of the show. Dinner will be over soon, and someone could see you come out.’ Phew, she thinks. She was good at thinking on her feet at least. That was a good excuse, but the truth is, she just enjoyed his company, no more, no less. She’d be alone all day, and now the idea of watching one more episode of Killing Eve with Rashad by her side sounded very appealing. No need to speak even, just having him near, a friendly face, was enough.

But of course she couldn’t just tell him that.

He nods. ‘You’re right. It’s about 9:30, it wouldn’t be discreet to go out now.’

He sits back down, and waits until she puts on another episode. Of course, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if someone saw him here. Nothing had happened, and it was apparent that he came to check on her after today’s ordeal. Plus, now that her reputation was shit, a pathetic noblewoman sleeping with her employee, a rumor of an affair with Lord Domvallier could even make her sound more...selective, which is good. Still, she was in no mood to be the subject of yet another scandal. She’d like to say that she doesn’t care, that she’s too cool for this. But really, she did feel pathetic. Not very dignified.

‘You want another vodka?’ she asks.

He smiles. ‘Yes please.’

She pours two more shots. ‘Thank you for staying. I appreciate it. It’s nice to have someone to chat and drink with.’

‘Ha, you’re welcome. I’m having a good time, for what it’s worth. We don’t hang out often enough, Liv.’

She’d like to come up with a snarky thing to say. Like ‘We hang out more than enough,’ or something along those lines. But right now, she’s tired of putting up this hard exterior. Tired of the walls, nay, the fortress that surrounds her. Sure, it protects her from getting hurt, but look, even with the walls up, people manage to break in. So, maybe just for tonight, she can just be appreciative of the one man who’s by her side.

So, she says, ‘You’re right. I have no idea why we don’t hang out more.’

Rashad shrugs, ‘I’m away on business a lot, so it’s probably on me. Also, you’re terrifying.’

She bursts out laughing, without being able to control herself. ‘Touché.’

Rashad giggles, ‘I mean seriously. Is that a dagger on your nightstand, or are you happy to see me?’

Olivia squints. ‘How would a dagger on my nightstand equate to a boner?’

‘I have no idea, but I just ran with it,’ Rashad laughs.

‘Oh well. I appreciate the effort.’

They sit in silence for a while, as they watch their show. Liv is comfortable, somehow, almost as comfortable as she is when alone with Liam. Actually, maybe more. She has more history with Liam, he knows her well. But her feelings often get in the way of just enjoying the moment with him, even when they’re simply chilling or having a drink. With Rashad, tonight, she doesn’t need any pretenses. She can relax.

‘Damn,’ Rashad whispers, his eyes stuck on the screen, ‘Sandra Oh is so amazing.’

Liv can’t contain a smile.

*****

Liam is relieved that dinner is over. Without Max, Amara, Drake, Hana, and Liv, conversation had been boring. Sure, Kiara is an interesting person, but ever since the competition started, she has her game face on and does not engage in deep conversations with him like she used to.

So, he didn’t offer anyone any after dinner drinks, and retreated to his study, alone, where he poured himself a glass of whiskey. Then two. Then three. He’s starting to see the appeal of hard liquor, when he was always a wine drinker. He’ll have to tell Drake about it.

For the whole evening, he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone else to be targeted. But no, nothing happened tonight. Just boredom and a whole lot of yawning. He couldn’t picture himself live the rest of his life with anyone who was at the table tonight. Not Kiara, not Penelope, and certainly not Madeleine. Of course, he knows a Cordonian marriage doesn’t necessarily need to be monogamous, but he strongly believes in companionship. If he can’t marry for love --Amara had made it clear that she’s not interested in him, and Liv...well Liv, he would deal with his feelings later-- then he wants to marry someone he likes. Whose company he enjoys. Someone he can grow old with.

He chugs the rest of his drink. What had happened to him? He’s usually such a lightweight, but now, he seems to be pounding whiskey after whiskey. He pours another. Fuck it, he thinks. Too bad Drake isn’t here to commiserate. What happened to him? Why isn’t Drake reaching out? Why is Liam drinking alone, right now? Did he lose his best friend? He replays the whole beach party in his head. When he crossed a line, when he grabbed Amara and tried to take her to the creek to...for lack of a better word, to fuck her. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Not his finest moment, huh? Drake had been right to call him out on it, after all. Liam could tell he was losing himself in the competition. He’d never been one to give up on a woman when she said she didn’t want to date him; he was partial to sending gifts and flowers until she gave in. But now, in the past few weeks, he truly lost his shit with Amara and just didn’t behave well.

And with Liv… Did he make her feel taken advantage of? No, she was completely on board with having sex with him. It wasn’t the first time, either. Liam is pretty sure he took her virginity, back in the day, when they were 18, but Liv would never admit to it. In the past decade, they probably had sex, what, five, six times? So, it wasn’t a big deal when they had sex before the beach party. Not to Liam, anyways. Just friends, scratching each other’s itch. He chuckles to himself. What a fucked up way of seeing things, he thinks. How unromantic.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ he mutters, before chugging his drink once again.

And boom, another whiskey poured. When he hears a knock on the door, Liam isn’t sure if it really happened, or if he hallucinated it. So, he waits. Another knock. Must be real.

‘Come in,’ he slurs.

‘Hello, Your Highness,’ Madeleine purrs as she opens the door.

Liam almost says ‘Ugh’ out loud, but fortunately, he is not drunk enough to do that. He sits up straight, and clears his throat. ‘Oh, hello, Lady Madeleine. To what do I owe the pleasure?’

She giggles. ‘I just wanted to see you. May I?’

She gestures at the chair opposite him, and he nods. She steps into the room, and sits down. He notices that she’s not wearing much. Not even a dress, but what looks like a slip. Off-white, almost transparent. Her lingerie is very apparent underneath, not that he’s staring.

‘Can I help you?’ he asks, trying to maintain eye contact, which is not easy when the person in front of you appears to have three pairs of eyes.

‘I was just feeling quite lonely, up in my room, and I asked your bodyguard if I may come in and keep you company. He said you’re alone, too…’

She crosses her legs, in a slow, exaggerated way. Did she just watch Basic Instinct? Why is she acting like she’s in an old timey thriller? Liam doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing.

‘Liam, how come you never asked me on a one-on-one date?’ she asks bluntly, her voice low and sultry.

‘It wasn’t intentional,’ he says, trying to remain neutral. He shouldn’t confront her about the pictures just yet, Regina would not forgive him. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

She gets up, and sits on the corner of his desk. Where did she learn her moves? Liam can’t help but think it all looks fake.

‘It’s ok,’ she coos. ‘I’ll take my share now.’

She reaches across the desk to kiss him, but he pulls away. ‘Wow,’ he can’t help but yelp. ‘What are you doing?’

She clears her throat, and the façade falls. ‘Oh. I thought it would be ok. We both know we’re a great match, and our families are close. This is just bound to happen. Don’t you think?’

She’s business-like again. Liam remembers talking about her with Neville, who is not at all discreet about his...conquests. Vancoeur had bragged about having sex with Madeleine, but also said that it was very mechanical with her, like doing a robot. Liam believes it now, since she’s here in front of him, demanding to have sex with him for what? To seal the deal? That’s not the love or the companionship that he craves. Is it really bound to happen? Is Madeleine his only prospect, now that Liv is walking away from him, and Amara… God, he hopes not.

He takes Madeleine’s hand in his, and plasters on his brightest smile. ‘Lady Madeleine, I think if it’s bound to happen, it will happen. No need to cheapen it with a quickie in the study.’

He sees Madeleine’s eyes flicker for a bit, and he wonders if that how it looks when she’s embarrassed. She nods, silently, and after a long pause, says, ‘As you wish. I better go.’

She gets up and walks away, but turns around before opening the door. ‘Your Highness?’ she says, still purring. ‘You’ll come around. You have to.’

*****

‘Alright, what about most embarrassing story?’

Drake laughs, and shakes his head. ‘Jeez, Suarez, do you not like to keep any mystery?’

Amara takes a sip of her margarita, staring into the distance. ‘Hmmm...no. Go! Most embarrassing story.’

Drake looks at her, so beautiful in the moonlight. They’re sitting on the back porch, in lawn chairs, with their drinks and some chocolates that he’d bought to munch on the last time he’d come to the cabin. He’s so relieved that she accepted to come here, to his lair, where no one can bother them. Just them and the stars.

He takes a deep breath. ‘Ok. When I was 16, I went to the pool with Liam and the gang. I went for a dive, and when I resurfaced, I… I’d lost my swimsuit. But the thing is, I didn’t realize it until I was out of the pool.’

Amara bursts out laughing. ‘Oh my God, poor baby Drake! Whose pool was it?’

Drake takes a sip of his margarita and says, ‘Kiara’s.’

He notices Amara’s face fall right away. ‘Oh.’ she says. ‘She must have been delighted.’

Drake laughs, ‘Come on, it was embarrassing! Not a sexy moment!’

She shrugs, still pouting. He likes to see her jealous, even if she has absolutely no reason to. Maybe Kiara had liked him at some point, but he never had any interest in her. She was way too condescending.

‘Suarez,’ he says, holding out his hand. ‘You know I don’t like Kiara… I was just telling you about my embarrassing story.’

She finally smiles, and takes his hand. ‘Well, with what you’re packing, Walker, it’s not at all embarrassing.’

He kisses her hand. ‘Go. Most embarrassing story.’

She takes a big swig. ‘Well. Mine is the opposite of sexy. I hope you have the stomach for it.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘I was 15, and my brother had taken me to a concert. Maroon 5. I was crazy about them. I was having the time of my life, when the girl standing behind me started laughing hysterically, and tapped my shoulder. She said, and I’ll never forget it,’ she makes an exaggerated air quote gesture, ‘ ‘You have the grossest blood stain on your ass!’’

Amara stares at him intently, and they both burst out laughing. ‘Oh no,’ Drake says, commiserating, ‘what did you do?’

‘Well,’ she replies, overly serious, ‘my amazing brother gave me his hoodie to tie around my waist. Classic move when your period starts during a bad time, but a solid method. I continued rocking out and lusting after Adam Levine, but deep down, my tiny baby soul was crushed.’

He kisses her hand again. He loves this intimacy, the possibility of telling each other everything. ‘Poor Suarez.’

Amara feigns despair, playfully pouting, and pulls Drake close into a kiss. Drake puts his arms around her, as their kiss deepens, and guides her onto his lap. She complies, straddling him. He feels her weight on him, as she lowers herself towards him to kiss him some more. She lets her hands roam all over his body, drawing a low groan from him, only intensifying when she unbuttons his pants, and frees his already hard dick from its cloth prison. She breaks from their kiss and puts her mouth on his length, first kissing it gently, then taking his tip between her lips. Drake moans some more, bucking his hips. ‘Mmmm, Amara, this feels amazing…’

She makes eye contact with him, her mouth still on his cock, and it drives him crazy. He wants her now. He sits up, takes her head in his hands and guides her back to straddle him again. ‘I want you, babe,’ he whispers.

She kisses him and in one swift motion, gets rid of her panties, now naked under her dress. She places herself so his cock is right between her legs, already teasing her entrance. He can’t wait any longer. He puts his tip between her pussy lips, and as she moans against his kiss, pushes himself inside her completely.

They make love slowly, passionately, under the moonlight. They take their time, exploring each other, as all their clothes eventually come off. Drake can’t help but think that this is exactly the bliss, the closeness he needed. He wishes they could stay here forever.

*****

Taglist:

@andy-loves-corgis @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @jovialyouthmusic @mariahschoices @drakesensworld @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @drakewalkerisreal @nikkis1983 @simsvetements @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love @drakewalkerwhipped @drakxwalker @drakewalkerrosenberg @drakeswalkers @drakelover78 @carabeth @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)