Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 20

When I wake up on Saturday morning, my body feels rested—I slept well.

Damon’s nowhere to be seen so I take this time to browse his bedroom, noticing the charcoal sheets and walls with caramel-colored furniture and leather sofas. Eventually, I head to the guest bedroom to grab my phone and my purse. I brush my teeth and wash up before checking my phone back in Damon’s room.

Nothing. No calls. Nothing from Harvey, but there’s a text from Claire. She wants to talk, but I’m not ready to deal with her. If I do, it’ll come from a place of anger, and it won’t settle anything between us.

I don’t want my frustration with her to influence Harvey’s progress.

At that moment Damon comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered, water glistening on his tanned chest. The only thing stopping me from seeing him fully naked is a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Gemma.” He comes over to the bed, and I close my eyes, letting the sound of his greeting run through me, buzz up my veins, wake up my highly disappointed sex.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, taking my hand in his as I’m sitting on his bed.

I nod, tempted to kiss his chest. “Did you?”

He waits a beat and then, “I did.” He seems to be pondering his own answer, as if it’s an epiphany that he slept well.

Silence. No talking, no noise, nothing.

We stare at each other.

“Is he expecting you home?” The pad of his thumb grazes his bottom lip.

I shrug. “We got into a fight.”

“I see. That’s why you came over.”

I shake my head, looking at the sad painting hanging in the middle of his bedroom wall. Why, Damon, why ?

“I came because I wanted to. Our fight... he kissed his nurse. I think they have a thing...” I pull my arms around my legs, feeling the bed dip. Damon’s sitting next to me now, his half-naked state completely distracting me.

“So he kissed another woman, and you’re mad at him because you love him?”

“I do,” I say honestly. It’s the truth—I love Harvey. But I’m only now figuring out that there’re different types of love.

I wait for Damon to tell me Harvey’s an idiot, that I deserve more. Except he doesn’t.

He says none of those things to reassure me. Instead, he heads to his dresser, and my cheeks redden when his towel drops. He has a nice ass, perfectly shaped lean calves, and a strong back that makes my pussy contract with need.

And he smells divine.

Absolutely mouth-watering.

Too soon, he’s dressed in black sweatpants and a hoodie, walking toward the bed. He grabs my head with his two hands, forcing me to look up .

“Let’s have fun today. Dress warmly.” I don’t question him. I simply smile, something he brings out of me. “Do you need to borrow some clothes?”

“No, I brought some.”

He nods, and I’m thankful when he gives me one last dreamy look before closing the door behind him. A gentlemanly act. Despite having seen me half-naked yesterday, he’s still giving me privacy this morning.

All I have are my leggings and a pair of jeans. Judging by the fact that Damon’s wearing sweatpants, I don’t think jeans are what I should wear.

I make a quick phone call to Henrik since he texted me this week regarding Harvey’s PT appointment today. He wanted to go with him.

“Aren’t you coming with?” Henrik asks, and I have to close my eyes to focus on my breathing instead of the guilt stewing inside. A few months ago, there wasn’t anything in the world that’d keep me from going with Harv to his appointment.

How time passes and changes. How people change. We don’t even see it, yet we do.

We change.

Things change.

“No, not this time.”

“Why aren’t you home?”

“Why don’t you ask your brother . . .”

He sighs. “Oh, boy. What’d he do now? Is it the porn?”

“What? No. What porn?”

“Idiot.” He chuckles. “Left his porn on pause on his laptop. He’s in the shower.”

I bring my purse to the restroom, examining myself in the mirror. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell me that.”

“Ah, come on, Gemma. I know you don’t care. It’s just a little porn; it’s healthy.” He laughs again, and I join him. Though my laugh quickly turns silent when I remember that Harvey’s turned to porn rather than me for his sexual needs.

And that hurts.

I tell him to text me the updates and hang up. I put on a bit of makeup and tie up my hair before pulling on Damon’s hoodie.

It smells like him—and it’s comforting.

We stopped by a sports store before driving wherever we’re heading. Damon insisted I needed warmer leggings and a tight, long-sleeve undershirt. He refused to let me pay and seemed content that I accepted his gift.

We say nothing the entire ride. He simply holds my hand, the thumb of his acquainting itself with mine.

And everything is fire and ice. Fire because of Damon. And ice because of Harvey. Should I have gone to that appointment? Should I forget that he kissed Claire?

I look at the man beside me. Chiseled jaw and unruly hair.

Damon’s thumb touches the inside of my wrist, and I know he can feel my pulse beating incredibly fast when I notice that he brought me to The Forge: Lemont Quarries, an adventure park.

“Have you ever been here?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

I take it all in once we leave the car, ecstatic to try something new with him. He grabs my hand and leads me to a small cabin.

A man at the front desk instructs Damon on a few things and makes us sign a few documents before Damon hands me the bag with my new clothes inside.

“Go change—we’re going ziplining,” he tells me.

I do, in record time. I’ve never done ziplining in winter before.

Once we climb the steps to the top, with the proper equipment on, I’m ready to throw all my weight into the air. My body’s buzzing with adrenaline from the thought of being carried 900 feet over the quarry.

I’m alive again. So alive I could die today and be fulfilled.

“Ready to do this?” a woman who seems to be in her forties asks Damon and me. I nod, all suited up in a one-piece snowsuit and a neck warmer, with a helmet and ski goggles.

“Here are the gloves; they’re designed to fit on the grip handles you’ll be holding onto. And the harness,” she says, fitting mine in firmly before she tells me to head toward another instructor.

I eye Damon as we make our way there.

There aren’t many people today, just a few behind us.

I pull down my neck warmer, grabbing Damon by the jaw. I kiss him, in case we die, in case we don’t. I kiss him because I want to. Because it’s the last warmth I want to feel before the cold front of wind hits my body from all sides.

Then I step back, and it’s Damon’s turn.

He’s listening to the instructions of the man who’s clipping the pulleys. Only he could look sexy in snowboarding googles. He turns back and gives me a nod before he’s off.

I’m a trembling mess when it’s my turn. The man speaking is basically talking to a wall. I can’t register anything. I simply nod.

This is the moment.

The few seconds before you’re about to do something absolutely crazy.

The few seconds in which you feel the adrenaline, the fear, the nerves. You feel the excitement, the accelerated heart rate.

I need to pee too.

This is what life is all about. Facing fears.

Fear is everything.

It’s the single most important thing, and we underestimate it. It helps species survive, adapt, protect themselves. And, as humans, it warns us of dangers, but most importantly, it helps us grow .

You will almost never regret making it to the other side of fear because crossing fear means power.

I put on my gloves and hold on to the handles.

And once I’m off, it’s as if I’m flying, throwing myself into nothingness, the zipline soaring over frozen water.

If I fall—this is it.

I smile and chuckle, taking it all in. I’m shaking my head, all alone, staring at the beautiful trees farther ahead covered in snow.

It’s nothing like summer ziplining—it’s even better.

The wind is everywhere. It makes me go faster, and I’m loving it.

My heart is in my throat, and a relief washes through me, a sense of calm and peace I haven’t felt since the dirt bike track.

Oh Damon—thank you.

When my two feet land on the solid surface on the other side, I’m helped by an instructor as I remove my harness.

My legs feel heavy, so I take a second to recover before I go down the stairs. That’s when I spot Damon. His head is free of all equipment, his suit unzipped.

I walk to him quickly and hug him tightly, laughing. He catches me, steadying me.

And he chuckles. Chuckles. For the first time. His smile is bright.

I swallow.

It does things to me, seeing him like this. So many things I’m not sure are good, healthy. My heart has been shot a second dose of adrenaline for entirely different reasons.

Damon, I feel for you.

I wish I could tell him. I wish telling him that I’m falling fast and hard for him wouldn’t wipe that smile off his face.

I wish the decision was easy. But then life never is. Neither is love.

Especially not love.

I’m taking a bath in the en suite of Damon’s bedroom. The warm water is soothing after spending the day outside.

We spent a long while making out before the car ride back to his place. My cheeks are still flushed, from the ziplining, from all the kissing.

I close my eyes, remembering Damon’s soft laugh. It’s enough to turn my insides into a sex potion.

After I’m all clean and toweled up, I put on my jeans and one of Damon’s faded black T-shirts that I’m borrowing.

A part of me knows I should feel repulsed by my behavior. Not just because of Harvey, but also because he’s my boss . But I can’t bring myself to stop.

I wander down to the first floor, hearing Damon talk to someone at the front entryway when he comes back with a massive box of pizza.

“Pizza and beer. Now we’re talking,” I say in the kitchen, lifting myself up onto the countertop.

He pushes my legs apart to make room for himself and brings a piece of pizza to my mouth. “Eat.”

I obey, taking a bite. It’s delicious. All veggies and cheese. The sauce is amazing—spicy.

“No meat today?”

He shakes his head, a glimmer in them. “We’re compensating for the environment.”

“What for?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, Gemma, we just are.”

I laugh. “And the cheese?” He takes a bite of the pizza, the same pizza I ate from.

Oh God. Damon, Damon, Damon.

“We’re trying.” The sparkle in his eyes is still there. He looks at me in admiration and something else. He holds my hip with his hand, feeding me the pizza with the other. “Bite. ”

I take a piece. And we eat like that, back and forth, until we’ve finished two slices. Then he pulls me off the countertop.

And I wonder why he’s doing all of this if he doesn’t date, doesn’t love, doesn’t do relationships.

I sit next to him on the couch, with the fireplace on, our beers on the table.

“I like you in my clothes.” He eyes his shirt.

I look away. Sometimes, his stare is too intense for me to handle. “It smells like you, smells good. Damon... I had a good time today.”

He caresses my cheeks, saying nothing, staring at my lips. I lean in until our mouths touch, and it’s like both our worlds collide together as one. I feel something in the air since yesterday.

Something is different.

Maybe it’s him; maybe it’s me.

He nibbles on my bottom lip, then lightly and horizontally rubs his mouth over mine. When I try to reach in for another kiss, he pulls away, teasing me until I grasp onto his neck, moaning close to his mouth when he refuses to kiss me still.

I’m ready, ready for the next step with this man. I want him.

“Damon, I’m ready for more . . .”

A cold front zings through his eyes, and he takes my hand and leads me to the massive leather chair facing the fireplace.

He’s standing right in front of me, the fire blazing in the background, his stance even more powerful and intimidating than it was before.

At his command, I take off my jeans, leaving me in nothing but his T-shirt and Calvin Klein cotton undergarments.

He eyes my underwear with such curiosity, I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh.

“Never thought I’d find cotton sexy, but here you go again, defying all my rules.” He speaks low, his voice husky. The attention he gives to my body makes me blush all over.

“I like to sleep in my Calvins,” I tell him .

He walks behind me and palms my ass, then squeezes—hard. “You make Calvin look good, Gemma.”

I can’t see him, but I can feel him all over, removing my underwear, like a jolt of energy that buzzes over my whole being when he’s around.

As if our souls are connected, our bodies thirsty for each other.

My heart is beating so, so fast. He’s lifting my shirt, his fingers skirting my lower back, and then my spine.

My back arches.

He pushes the shirt up, higher and higher, expertly unclasping my bra. I remove it all—my bra, his shirt. I don’t wait for him to tell me.

I want in his bed. I want to be cherished by him tonight. I want him to make love to me or fuck me tonight, whichever he chooses.

“Any more tattoos?”

I shake my head. Only the rose on my finger.

“Do you have any?” I ask, looking behind me.

“I do,” he says without elaborating—too busy cherishing my inner thighs, touching them.

It feels amazing.

When he finally comes before me again, I take off his shirt. I’m so eager to touch him, to see all of him. I finger his throat, then his chest.

Still, I find no tattoos.

I kiss one nipple, then the other, and he fists my hair in his hand, a groan escaping his lips as he stares at my tits. I’m about to unbuckle his belt when his fingers curl around my hand. It feels so small inside of his.

“Why not?” I ask softly.

He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

I clear my throat to ensure my voice doesn’t wobble when I ask him, “Are you going to reject me too?” He looks surprised by my comment.

I ask because it’s not the first time. Nor the first man. And I’m so emotionally and physically sick of the rejection.

“No, I want you... but tonight is all about you.”

I take a step out of his reach. “What do you mean?”

He cups the back of his head with one hand. “Gemma, you came over this weekend because of your fight. When you come to me...” He’s walking toward me, slowly, looking like a handsome wizard knowing his powers. “When I fuck you, I want you to be one hundred percent sure.”

He's caressing the side of my face, and I lean into the palm of his hand. My eyes close, and I exhale a deep breath before staring at him.

“I thought you didn’t care, Damon.”

He breaks eye contact and eyes my lips. “Always look at a man’s actions—not his words.”

What does he even mean? That he cares?

“Now.” He tugs on my nipple piercing, hauling my body to his. There’s a bit of pain, but mostly, oh God, mostly pleasure from the sting and especially from the hunger in his eyes.

When the backs of my legs touch the leather seat, he tilts his chin, and I follow his silent command, sitting down on the chair. I’m fully naked, the heat from the fireplace contradicting the cold leather beneath me.

Damon, shirtless and in dark jeans, leans forward and kisses my nipple, playing with and tugging on the piercing.

He groans. “I love this very, very much.”

Me too. Especially right now. It feels so good—what he does, what he says. I wonder if I could ever make him understand how he makes me feel—if I’ll ever understand it myself.

I sit comfortably while he towers over me, setting my lips on fire with his. He takes my mouth and I let him—I let him devour me .

He then drops to his knees and pushes out both of my legs. I’m spread like an eagle, my sex ready to be consumed. He kisses the insides of my thigh, the sides of my folds. Kissing and licking. Every kiss reminds me how long it’s been, how fast I’ll come.

I’m a quivering, whimpering mess. The words coming out of my mouth aren’t even words by the time he first strokes the lips of my pussy.

My nails are digging into the large armrest of the chair. It’ll scratch the leather—ruin it. And I don’t care.

“Damon...” My legs move but he puts them back in place. My head hits the chair, and I look up at the high ceiling, focusing on the feelings, on his tongue.

Damon won’t be rushed.

He savors the moment. Tastes every part of me that he can.

He wants to build me up and drive me nuts.

He doesn’t hurry to the finish line, but he’ll make me finish.

One hand skirts my thigh, sliding down my leg to my ankle, before my leg finally comes to rest over his shoulder.

“All opened up for me.” He thumbs my clit. I’m blushing and my body’s blushing, but not from embarrassment. I’m so warm. My body is thriving, bustling with intense energy.

I want his lips on me again.

Please.

He holds me tightly by the waist, then he goes in. All in. His thumb is putting pressure on my clit, and it stays there, the whole time, while he eats me.

He’s licking my pussy, he’s sucking. He’s tormenting my inside walls with his tongue, and I’m squirming, eager to come. My legs keep writhing but he controls them, doing to my body what he wants it to do.

I obey because I want so badly to come. I really, really do.

“Please let me come . . .”

My voice. I don’t recognize it. I sound like a desperate vixen. Then... in case I wasn’t tortured enough, he starts releasing his thumb over my clit and pressing down again.

All while laving my folds with his God-blessed lips.

He’s not mortal, this man. Damon’s something, something else.

I moan and grab his hair as his tongue spins inside of me. I feel the movement everywhere.

Then he thumbs my clit again, his fingers replacing his tongue deep within me while he lavishes my thigh with warm kisses.

“Oh Damon . . . Damon . . .”

I swiftly look up but his hand grabs my chin, forcing me to lock eyes with him instead. He’s still pumping his fingers inside, thumbing my clit.

I’m even more turned on. The sight... of him and his abs... and his eyes... and his disheveled hair... doing this to me, to my body. I look down and see all the effort he’s putting into this.

“Give me your cum, Gemma . . .”

I do. I’m trembling, shaking, like an out-of-body experience. Like this isn’t real. Like it couldn’t ever be this good. I feel the tremor inside, the muscles of my pussy tightening around his fingers.

And I’m pulsing. Plummeting. Somewhere. In the dark. With Damon.

Wherever he’s taking me—I’m following. I’m coming.

Hard.

I can’t even stop myself from closing my eyes as this sexual energy releases out of me. I never knew my moans could be this loud.

I hit a higher wave before I crash.

When I open my eyes, my breathing is still ragged from the experience. There’s a small tug at the side of his lips, almost like a smirk, but not quite there.

Then he pulls his fingers out of me, coating my cream on the inside of my thigh. He’s writing something with my wetness, and I can’t make out the word.

Sated. Completely and utterly sated.

“What’s the word?” I ask. His other hand joins mine, our fingers playing with each other. He gets up and scoots me to the side of the chair. Then he sits down, and I’m crawling all over him, arms around his neck.

“Lone. I never thought I’d meet someone like you... we’re alike in many ways.” He’s brushing my hair out of my face, and I’m eating out the palm of his hand. Listening to every word. All of them—Every vowel. “You remind me of a lone wolf... You don’t have to try hard, Gemma, you just are .”

A weird expression covers his face as he tells me this, and I don’t know what to make of it.

From the Damon who warns me off, to this one who keeps pulling me close, closer.

“And lone because you’re you—unique.” His eyes break our staring spell. “Gemma, I hope the man you’re with treats you good... really good.”

He grazes his knuckles beneath my jaw and then I’m kissing him, silencing him because I’m afraid of what I’ll admit if I answer him. And because I hate seeing the pain in his eyes and not knowing why it’s there.

I’m falling so quickly, Damon. Are you?

Because right this moment I realize I know next to nothing about the man I’m falling in love with. And he told me in clear red lettering that I’m to only fuck him.

One man won’t have sex with me.

The other won’t love me.