Page 35 of Shadowman
Oh God, oh Jesus… Who is that??
They’re gonna see me in here. They’re gonna know, and they’re gonna tell someone.
Everyone is going to find out what I do, who I am, what I am.
My secrets will all be exposed, and then I’ll just be…
Out in the open.
Bright lights shining in my face.
I’m frozen, dick still in my mouth, just gawking up at him with wide, watery eyes, asking a wordless question.What do I do??Followed by a silent plea.Please please please, don’t let them know…
The Warden swallows visibly. Then he scoots forward in his chair, removing himself from my mouth while shoving me underneath his desk with his legs.
“Come in,” he calls to whomever is knocking.
I’m terrified. Shaking so hard, my body is spasming. But I press my lips together and keep absolutely still. Staring at The Ivory’s dick while someone enters his office.
Jesus fucking Christ, what am I doing??
Whose life is this?!
The Warden tucks himself away—though it doesn’t seem towantto go away, a fact I’m not trying to think about right now—zipping up his fly with someone in his office. It’s fucking whacked. I have no goddamn clue what’s happening, but I’m radiating two very different things…
Explicit fear, and illicit thrill.
“Never you mind what’s happening in here, Officer,” he says to the person. Even from under his desk, I can hear a faint smirk in his voice. “How can I help you?”
But then I zero in on his words.Clearly, the person is suspicious of something… And why wouldn’t they be?? He literally just zipped up in front of them.
My limbs are jittering from nervesandthe pain of being cuffed behind my back for so long, but I’m trying to hold them steady, to keep the cuffs from making noise.
“Wilkerson’s dead. Darcey,” the deep male brogue speaks, and I recognize it instantly.
It’s Velle.Fuck.
Fuck fuckity fucking fuck!
He’s the last person I’d ever want to find out about this!
Side note: Darcey killed Wilkerson already??
Damn, the kid works quick.
Holding my breath, I watch as The Ivory’s hands rest on his knees, and he leans back in his chair, obviously not fazed by his shirt still being untucked and his belt being open.
“Do you know what I’m going to say, Jonathan?” He speaks so casually, so polished and engaging… I have to stop from answering him myself. “Ivan Wilkerson was a waste of space, yes, but the fact remains. No one can know about this. Do you understand?”
Obviously, he’s not talking to me. But that sure is a purposeful thing to say when there’s literally another person in the room and they both know it.
“So you’ll have to take care of it.” He continues firmly. “Yourself.”
The room is silent for a moment, while I’m trembling, crouched under this goddamn desk, scared as hell of making a peep.
“I don’t want to do it again…” Velle whispers, soft and more vulnerable than I could ever imagine him sounding.
“But you must, Jonathan,” The Ivory counters. “You’re the only one I can trust to do so.”
