Page 60 of Deafened By Silence
Right now, I just want to feel the freedom of my heart hammering without fear. The freedom I found whilst Clay cradled me beneath the waves, gripping tight as the surf crashedaround us. The freedom of knowing that for one single moment, we don’t have to hold back. We can just be.
Chapter Thirty Six
By the time we pull into campus the sun has sunk low, painting the dorm building in streaks of orange and gold, salt still clinging to my skin. My hair is tangled beyond belief, and Clayton beside me looks completely exhausted. The sea air will do that to you. Thankfully, there’s barely anyone around to note our return. Not that I’m embarrassed to be seen with Clay, but that I want something for myself. Something that isn’t publicized all over social media with an unsavory hashtag.
But I should know better than to expect a little privacy. Turning into the parking lot, I pull up beside a black Porsche parked crooked across two spaces, already rolling my eyes. Rhys is leaning against the brick wall, his jaw tight in the light of his phone as he scrolls endlessly. Clayton bristles but I place a hand on his thigh and shake my head. I’m not ending this perfect day on an argument, finding myself swiftly back in the middle of their cockfight. Apparently, Rhys didn’t get the memo. He’s on me the moment I slide out from the driver’s seat.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Rhys spits, his voice slicing through the buzz of contentment still humming in my chest. Itake my time to shoulder my backpack, close my door and lock the car once Clay has also vacated.
“We went out,” I shrug, attempting to move past him. It’s not that I don’t enjoy Rhys’ delusion of keeping me strung up as his personal puppet, at his beck and call for whenever his boredom strikes, but he needs to learn this lesson the hard way. A lesson that, apparently, only I can teach. If he wants my attention, there are better ways to get it.
Growling, Rhys’ hand curls around my arm and Clay moves in, placing me exactly where I didn’t want to be. Right in the middle of them.
“Clay, don’t—” I start, bracing to physically pry them apart when he catches my chin between his fingers and tilts my head upwards. The breath saws out of my parted lips as he swoops in, kissing me slow and deep as if intent on burning himself into my memory. I melt, letting myself drown in the taste of him, despite Rhys’ hand clamping down on my arm, determined on leaving a mark.
Pulling back, Clay smirks as I sway slightly, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “I’ll see you later,” he promises and slinks away. I watch him go, my mind short-circuiting. What the hell just happened?
The silence that follows is suffocating, the air thick with Rhys’s fury, and when I finally look at him his lips are curled, his chest heaving like he might tear the world apart just to make a point.
“Get in the car,” he growls, jerking his head toward the Porsche. I start to refuse, but Rhys drags me there anyway, popping his passenger door. Shoving me into the seat, the door is slammed and he’s behind the wheel in the next moment.
“Rhys, it’s been a long day. I just want to shower and collapse.”
“You can do both of those things at my house.” The tires skid, speeding us back out the way I just came. We pass Clayton walking along the sidewalk but he can’t see me through the blackened windows. There’s not much he could do anyway. The beast has been unlocked in Rhys and there’s only one way to lure it back into its cage. Complete submission.
Arriving in record time, Rhys manhandles me into his frat house, up the stairs and tosses me onto his bed. He paces back and forth, making a valiant effort to ease his rage.
“So you’re dating him now?” he hisses, his fists clenching and opening. I force my voice to stay level, not betraying the sarcasm that wants to jump to my defense.
“We went for a day out.” Rhys stops to glare at me, his eye twitching.
“Was there laughter and touching and kissing andfood?” I roll my tongue between my teeth, considering these points.
“Okay fine, I suppose I’m dating him now.” I admit. Rhys’ blue eyes darken, a predatory exhale leaving his nostrils. I chew on my lip, wrapping my arms around myself. After such a peaceful, liberating day, losing Rhys is the last thing I wanted to do. Selfish, I know, but just for one more day, I wanted to live within the blurred lines of being wanted by two gorgeous, overpowering men. Sighing, I ask the question I don’t want the answer to. “What does that mean for us?”
As per usual, Rhys does what I least expect. His grin snaps back into place, the only warning before he lunges. His fingers tighten around my throat, his thumb pressing against my pulse. I barely have time to gasp, the length of his body crushing mine back into his mattress.
“Well, you clearly aren’t fucking him, or you wouldn’t respond to me so beautifully. Let me remind you who you really belong to.” Tilting my jaw upwards, exposing my throatto him like an offering, the heat of his mouth descends, brutally marking for all to see.
“Rhys,” I groan. His smile curves against my skin.
“Say my name, Babygirl. Say it loud and proud.” His crotch grinds against my center, already hardening and rubbing my jeans in the right kind of way. It’s ridiculous how quickly Rhys affects me, his lean muscles and confident swagger straight out of a porno I’d play on repeat. Each roll of his hips draws a strangled sound from my throat. I reach up to remove my receivers, but Rhys clamps down on my wrists and pins them either side of my head.
"Don't," he warns, flashing me a narrowed glare. "I want to see how wet I can make you with just my filthy mouth." I close my eyes, a bolt of pleasure zipping straight to my clit. Mission already accomplished. As if he enjoys watching me squirm beneath the weight of his stare, Rhys memorizes my face, the way it pinches when he grinds against me again. Giving into him goes against my nature, the part of me that despises bullies humming with curiosity now that I'm pinned beneath one.
When he finally leans in, his kiss is not gentle. It's harsh, slipping the imaginary leash around my neck and pulling hard. The only solace I have is that I chained him first. Rhys' mouth crashes over mine with a hunger that pushes air from my lungs, driven by the need to claim and ruin. His hands round my ass and pull me flush against him, inked fingers splayed across my jean pockets. I twist uncomfortably, agitated by the denim.
"Take them off," I groan between Rhys biting down on my lower lip hard enough to hurt and then licking it better.
"If that's what you want," Rhys reaches for my waistband. "Then no." Hiking them up higher on my hips, I almost cry with frustrated relief. The rugged seam gives me a hint of the release I'm chasing but my hips are bucking in Rhys' direction.
His laugh is wicked, the smug bastard that he is coming out in full force. I try to twist away, ashamed by my reactions but Rhys grabs my chin and forces me to stare straight ahead.
“Let me look at you,” he rasps, dragging his thumb over my bottom lip. “All restless and needy. I could watch you squirm all night.”
The words sear through me, hotter than the friction of his hips. I want to deny it, to throw something sharp back at him, but my brain is nothing but fog and static as he drags his nose along my cheek, inhaling me like I’m his oxygen. His hand slips between us, skating over my breasts to cup me through my jeans.
“You like it when I press here, don’t you?” The heel of his palm applies pressure to my clit and I mewl. Actually mewl for this crazed, possessive man. “You like it when I keep you right on the edge, quivering for more. And best of all, you hate that I’m the one who does this to you.”
