Giving It Over - Part II

His Hands Remembered Me—So Did Every Inch of Him

Catch up:

I woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon and eggs and the clink of pots and pans. Sunlight streamed through the window, warming the room as my eyes adjusted. Instinctively, my hand drifted down to my briefs. Good ol’ morning wood. Just as I was about to enjoy it, a knock came at the door.

“JJ, you up?” came a familiar voice.

A lot was up.

I gathered the covers and sat up. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Milly, all smiles and carrying a tray of breakfast goodies.

“Milly!” I jumped from the bed to hug her, tugging the sheet around me.

“Hey there, baby. Let me get a look at ya,” she said, setting the tray down before pulling me into a tight embrace and patting my backside. “Oh my, you’ve gotten so big.”

“It’s been too long,” I said.

“That it has. I brought you up some breakfast. Go ahead and sit.”

Milly was like a second mother to me—more like a real one than the woman who gave birth to me. She’d worked for Enon’s family for as long as I could remember. When his parents passed, she became Enon’s legal guardian. A lot of folks talked, whispering about a Black woman raising a white boy. Milly didn’t give a damn what they thought. She loved Enon. That’s all that mattered.

The tray was overflowing—eggs, bacon, two types of sausage, cheese grits, scrambled eggs, and homemade biscuits slathered in sausage gravy.

“Milly, this smells amazing.” I reached for a bacon strip, but she slapped my hand gently and gave me that look.

Milly always insisted on giving thanks. She bowed her head and reached for my hand. She didn’t say a word, but her silence held power. She gave my hand a firm squeeze, then lifted her head and smiled. I dug in like it was my last meal. She sat with me, watching, humming, soaking in the moment.

“Careful now. Don’t go biting your tongue,” she teased, rustling my bedhead.

She remembered—every time I ate her food, I always bit my tongue.

“I’ll leave you to it. Enon left clothes for you in his room. Wants you to meet him at the west stable after you wash up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“JJ… I’m glad you’re home. I’ve missed you. Enon has too.” She smiled, then closed the door. Milly had a way of saying everything without saying much.

After breakfast and a quick shower, I headed into Enon’s room. He’d left out worn jeans and a powder-blue button-down—his favorite color. I ran my hands over the shirt, lifted it to my nose, and inhaled. His scent clung to the fabric.

“A half-naked man in my room? Whatever should I do?”

I turned to see Enon leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and smirking.

His jeans fit like sin. His open shirt layered over a white tee hugged his chest just right.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now what should I do to this intruder?” he said, sauntering over. Boots heavy on hardwood. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing me against his chest.

“You’re all sweaty,” I said. “I kinda like that.”

“I know you do. And you’re all clean,” he said, glancing at my towel. “And in a towel.”

I adjusted the fabric. “Thanks for the clothes.”

Enon took the shirt from my hands. “May I?”

“Sure.”

He helped me put it on. It felt odd—intimate in a quiet, unexpected way.

“A little big, but it’ll do,” he said, smoothing his hands down my arms. Then he pulled me closer, hands drifting down as he unwound the towel.

“Oops. Your towel fell.”

I turned, and his lips brushed mine. His hands slid over my backside, his tongue tasting me.

“Mmm, tasty,” he murmured, tugging gently at my lower lip.

“JJ!” Milly’s voice cut through the haze.

I scrambled, rewrapping the towel just as she opened the door. My boner was unmistakable.

“There you are! I’m headed into town. Want anything special for lunch?”

“Ah—no. Anything you make is perfect.”

“Alright then.” She paused at the door. “Y’all can make out later. There’s work to be done.”

Enon burst out laughing and pulled me onto the bed.

“Did you hear what I said?” she called before leaving.

“Yes, ma’am!” he yelled, that sexy southern drawl lacing his words.

“We'd better get out to the stable. You’re working today, boy,” he said, slapping my ass.

“I’m not afraid of hard work. I can take it,” I said, rolling on top of him.