Page 61 of Deafened By Silence
It’s like he’s in my head, voicing my very thoughts.
“I—Rhys—” My protest chokes into a gasp when his thigh slides between mine, forcing them wider. His hand has full access now, rubbing in firm, slow circles. He’s driving me crazy and I’m not even undressed yet.
“Here’s how this is going to go, Babygirl. You’re going to get on your knees and take my cock in that pretty mouth of yours. If you do a good job, I’ll rip your jeans off and take you hard and fast until you’re crying with pleasure.” His blue eyes are consuming my vision, sparkling with lust as he speaks. I’m hanging on every word. “Are you going to do a good job for me?”
Swallowing, I nod. Rhys’ smile is demon worthy. He flips us, angling me off the mattress and onto the floor. Before I can reach for his sweatpants, he tugs my sweater and t-shirt over my head. I’m adjusting the tatted mess that is my hair when he releases the clip of my bra, baring my top half to him. My nipples pucker at Rhys’ undivided attention more than the cool air.
“Make it rough. Suck, bite, scratch. Make it hurt,” he orders, pulling his cock free. It bobs against his stomach, the Jacob’s ladder piercings catching the light. I lick my lips on instinct. I don’t hesitate, urged on by this need to be satisfied one way or another, taking a solid grip of his shaft and guiding it into my mouth before Rhys has fully shed his sweatpants.
Despite the metal gliding over my tongue, he’s so smooth. We groan in unison, my throat adjusting his size and the pierced stud at the tip of his plump head, then I deliver on his request. I lay my tongue flat, taking him as far as I can, and bite down between his piercings.
“Fuck yes,” Rhys groans, filling the room with his approval. At first, I’m cautious, choosing my timing and placements carefully. Encouraged by his hands either side of my face, I suck until my cheeks hollow out and I’m fairly certain Rhys’ soul leaves his body. He hardens impossibly further, his hands becoming lost in my hair, pushing me to take him deeper than I thought possible. Tears spring from my eyes, my throat constricting. He releases me long enough to take back and thrusts back in, blinded by his desire.
“You’re mine,” he grunts in deluded ramblings. “Not Clayton’s. No one else’s. Mine. Fuck, you drive me insane, Harper.” I don’t often hear him mutter my name and I smirk around his shaft, twisting my tongue around his head, toying with the stud. All the while, my nails scratch angry patterns over Rhys’ thighs and my hips roll to gain friction from my jeans. I’m a frenzied mess, frantic and needy.
“That’s enough,” Rhys tugs my head free. I sit back on my heels but he doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Joining me on the floor, Rhys throws me onto my hands and knees, tugging at my waistband with eager desperation. They make it to my thighs before he gives up, thrusting two fingersstraight inside me. I scream out in shock, jolting when they pump twice and pull out just as fast.
“So fucking wet. So fucking beautiful,” he moans, lining up his cock with my center. A spark of panic bursts through me until I feel the telltale sensation of latex. I don’t have time to be impressed by his speed in suiting up, as Rhys simultaneously pushes his dick into my pussy and his two fingers into my mouth. “Can you taste how much your body wants me? How it’s begging me to carve my mark into your cunt?”
The taste of my desire explodes within my mouth. He uses those fingers to hold me in place, not giving any room between us as his powerful jerks reach higher and deeper inside of me. The room blurs around the edges, the entire world ceasing to exist as I spiral closer to the climax that tears me apart.
Rhys is everything I both fear and yearn for, brutal in the way he moves. Yet somehow, every movement is methodically precise, like he knows exactly how to make me forget myself. His hands map my ribs and his mouth claims my skin, not leaving an inch of space untouched.
I scream louder than I care to admit, cum more times than I can count, until we collapse in a sweaty heap on the floor, breathless and exhausted. I’m fully prepared to fall asleep right then and there, but for the second time this evening, Rhys surprises me.
His arms curl around my body, lifting and easing me beneath his covers. He slides in behind, the evidence of what we’ve done making a mess on his sheets, but he doesn’t care. Instead, the ghost of a kiss touches my hair just as I doze off, unsure if I actually got the answer to my question – what does this mean for us? All I do know is that my interest in Clayton threatened whatever this is, a passion we can’t explain or resist. Rhys Waversea doesn’t do threatened, and he defiantly doesn’t do losing.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Harper’s tongue pokes out in concentration as she lowers each careful drop of potassium ferrocyanide into the diluted sulphate. She leans in close, eyes narrowed, waiting for the shift. The liquid deepens into a royal blue and she beams at me like I had a single thing to do with it.
I’ve point-blank refused to contribute all lesson. The fact that I arrived herewith heris insult to my reputation enough. Setting me in a self-destructive mood, I’ve spent that last forty minutes trying to shift the power balance back to normal.
Switch her chemicals when she isn’t looking, scattering her notes across the floor. Although that just gave me a perfect view of her ass in those tight leggings. On her phone between us, I’ve turned off her microphone app twice. If only I can get her to yell or slap me, if I get any rise at all, I’m sure I’ll stop. I just need that palette cleanser to settle the jittering inside of me, which has absolutely nothing to do with the decision I made while she slept in my bedagainlast night.
I woke before the sun, sheets tangled around our legs, her scent still clinging to my skin like a brand I can’t scrub off. Not that I didn’t try in the shower for forty five minutes. I let her intoo far, let her strip away the armor I’ve spent years perfecting. Now, l’m raw and exposed in a way I don’t fucking recognize. I don’t know how to live in a world where she holds that kind of power over me.
But as per usual, Harper isn’t one to be goaded easily. She just steadies her breath and carries on, like a soldier trudging through the battlefield. And in the end, she rewards me with a smile that empties my lungs and fills them all at once.
I can’t say I’m surprised. Her resilience is part of her allure. It’s carved into her bones and tattooed across her soul. She doesn’t shatter when pushed, she refines. I need to keep pressing, keep tearing at the edges of her calm until she has no choice but to react. When she does, when her power burns bright through the cracks I’ve made, I swear it is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
Peterson cuts the lesson short, checking his watch like he has somewhere better to be, and slips out the door. Students shuffle into line for the basin. Harper gathers her test tubes, carrying them across the room where Clayton is already stationed, sleeves rolled up like some golden boy hero. He takes her rack without hesitation,no pun intended, rinsing her glassware while she stands close, smiling at something he says. Her hand drifts to his arm, a soft laugh escaping her lips.
My jaw locks until my teeth threaten to crack. Bile licks the back of my throat. How the fuck does he hold her attention when he doesn’t understand a single piece of her? He doesn’t push her. He doesn’t force her to prove herself. He doesn’t give her the gift of pain that makes her shine.
I watch her laugh while I sit here with my chest tearing itself apart and wonder how long it will take before she finally recognizes what it is she really needs. Not his shielding. Not his comfort. She just needs…me.
Class empties one by one, voices rising with relief at the promise of lunch. Harper clears every trace of her presence but leaves my mess scattered across the bench, her satisfied grin marking it as deliberate. When she shoulders her backpack, Clayton swoops in to accompany her, only to find me stepping into his way.
“You go ahead, Babygirl,” I tell her, leaning casually against the table. “Dr. Jekyll and I have business to discuss.” Clayton visibly bristles, his shoulders squaring and an impatient breath humming through his nose. Harper hesitates, her eyes flicking between us both standing either side of her.
“Are you going to behave yourself?” she asks me. I roll my eyes.
“Never.” A flash of red appears, his freckled face stretched wide with a serial killer’s smile. Dickerson fumbles with his bag strap whilst addressing Harper.
“I’m heading to the cafeteria if you want to come with. We can save Clayton a seat.” He offers her a clammy hand and I slap it away. Harper is quick to glare at me and finally, at fucking last, a tremor rolls down my spine. If hurting Dickerson is what gets a rise out of Harper, I could rid him of all his teeth.
Sweeping him out of my reach, Harper tells Clayton to come find her at lunch and leaves me alone with my longtime rival. Waiting for the door to click shut, I crack my neck, gearing myself up for what might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
