Page 20 of Dangerous Silence
“You’re wasting my time,” I said.
I went to the wall, finding my favorite bone saw and cleaver. The table creaked and clanged as he wiggled his way off, falling to the floor and knocking into Demi’s crate. I kept waiting for her to speak, to ask this man for help, but she never did. Putting the knives down on the top of Demi’s crate, I pulled the man up by his bruised neck and slammed him on the table once again, power surging through my bones.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the man cried. Saliva spit from the sides of his mouth, sputtering like a foaming pot on the stove. “Don’t kill me, man. It’s not about you. It’s about your dad. It’s about your dad—”
“What about Gerard?” I asked.
“I need to kill him. The rest of you are bonus. Just him. Kill Gerard. And then—”
None of this was new information. I already knew Muro had a distaste for my father. I grabbed the bone saw off the top of Demi’s crate and brought it against his leg, bringing it back and forth, more pressure on the bone, slicing through the marrow, then down again to that easy flesh.
He wailed, his screams growing, sweat dripping from his face, his panting breaths harsh. But those screams, those damn screams. They only made me want his silence more. I went for his arms next. Once I was done, blood oozed from the open wounds. His body stopped shaking, dulling into silence. I put the knife down. Moved his hand until it was on the table next to him. The leg, heavy with his boot, dropped to the floor.
The tension released from my body, a lightness filling my head. My mouth was dry. I had water in one of the cabinets. I knew I should drink some.
Still, even in the silence, Demi was quiet. I hadn’t felt this relaxed since she had first come into my life.
I grabbed a bottle from the back in one of the cabinets, chugged it until it was empty, then considered giving one to her. As I neared the box, I stopped, waiting for a noise. If I listened carefully enough, I could hear her breathing. Steadied. Then stopped. Then steady again, as if practicing, trying to stabilize.
I wet my lips. The image of her wrapped in a towel crossed my mind, the wet strands of hair on her back, the dye on the towels, her bare legs. I could push that fucker off of that metal table, slam her onto it, and claim her as mine, once and for all.
My cock twitched thinking about it. The fear in her wide eyes. The glassy look on her face as she came to understand the fucked up man her father had promised her to.
It would be easy to kill her. Shep had no other family. The mafia men who knew about Demi would assume she had gone back to college. And by the time someone cared to look, it wouldn’t matter what had happened.
I leaned on the box, admiring the smooth wood, remembering the day I had made it. Afterward, I had treated myself to time with a sex worker. I had tried a girlfriend once because my mother insisted on it. But when my girlfriend saw how I acted in private, she went running. I wasn’t going to chase after someone I was vaguely interested in, so instead, I chose sex workers. They were easy; they knew what was expected. The day I made the box, the woman had been a sweet talker, telling me how handsome I was, how sexy my scarred lips were. Anything to make another buck.
But Demi was nothing like that. She knew what she wanted, and what the world owed her.
And yet she knew nothing about the real world. Nothing about her family’s history. Nothing about me.
My cock pressed against my pants, heavy and rapt for her. I unbuckled my belt, the leather sliding from the loops, then set it down on a clean spot on the table. Undid the top button, unzipped the fly. Pulled out my cock. Gripping it hard until the blood visibly throbbed in the head. I thought of Demi.
Knowing how strict Shep was, and that she had gone to that private girls’ school, I knew there was a good chance she was still a virgin. Tight as hell. Untouched. I could ruin her with one hearty thrust.
She gave a sharp intake of air. My cock pulsated at the sound. I swallowed the saliva gathering in my mouth, then licked my lips, thinking of her crouched inside of there, waiting for me. Demi had never tried to flatter me with false compliments like the sex worker had. Demi was pure, she knew what the world was made of, and she knew that she deserved more than what I could give her.
Wasn’t she right?
A flash of that night with the sex worker came into my mind. Nothing had worked. No matter how tight she squeezed my dick, no matter how hard she clamped her lips down on me, nothing would make me come. Every few seconds, she’d pull off my dick and moan, her doe eyes and fake lashes blinking up at me.You taste so good, baby, she said.You’re such a treat.
Still, I felt nothing.
It wasn’t until I pulled out a gun and held it to her head that I got anything real out of her.What are you doing?she had asked, her hands shaking. But I didn’t move. Kept the gun aimed at her head.Are you insane? A gun?But I had told her I was armed. I had told her what I liked. She must have thought I was joking.
Do you think it’s loaded?I asked.
Her lips quivered. I put a hand on the back of her head and shoved my dick down her throat. She whimpered, a tear rolling down her face, and I knew then, that those emotions were the only real thing that I would ever have from her. From any woman. Every single woman feared me. I would never have a moment where someone trusted me.
And so I came then, down her throat, filling her mouth with my jizz. She coughed it out, couldn’t stop crying. Once I was done, I showed her that the barrel was empty. Then I pulled out our negotiation form, pointed to the gunplay box. I dropped it and left her sobbing on the floor.
I leaned down, unlocking the padlock on Demi’s crate. Once I removed the bar, the wooden slats would fall to the sides, and Demi would give me those same eyes, the pure adrenaline-soaked fear that I craved. The scent of it was musky and full of heat, and I relished in that scent, knowing the power it gave me.
The sides of the crate clanged down onto the concrete. Demi’s eyes washed over the man’s leg on the ground, then to the corpse on the table in front of her. She turned her neck, looking at me. Those wide eyes caught me, held me in their stare. She grew still, then her lips parted. Wet. Her eyes took in my cock. Her pupils dilated.
Everything about her was soft, yielding to me. I kept stroking my cock, each pump harder than the last, watching as her tongue flicked over her lips. She was sitting with her ass on the floor of the cage, her legs bunched in front of her, but the slightest movement of her ankles showed that she was spreading herself. She probably didn’t know she was doing it, but she was opening herself for me.
Curiosity was laced between us. Was it hers, or mine?
