Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 26

“How did it feel to walk around without your thong?” Damon asks once we sit in the front seats of his Lexus. We left my car at work.

Henrik texted me earlier that he wants to talk, which makes me wonder if Harvey told him about our breakup. I need a few days to clear my head.

When Damon’s cold fingers brush my pussy as he drives with one hand, I moan softly, gripping onto his forearm. “Dripping. Did you think about this all day?”

I nod, reaching for his hair.

“Me too,” he admits.

When he kisses me at a red light, I forget about my morning, about my breakup, about the pain I caused Harv. About the drawings.

I leave it all behind.

I lean into Damon’s touch, my mouth opening for him, delivering all that I can for him to devour, to savor.

I want him to bring out desires in me I never knew were possible. The thought that he was carrying my thong in his pocket all day was enough to make my legs squeeze against each other as the day wore on.

I grab on to his hair, pulling it—hard. Like I own it. Because I want to. I so do.

It’s as if I’m drunk and high simultaneously. Damon has that crippling effect when he wants to.

“I want you,” I whisper in his ear.

He leaves a trail of kisses on the side of my neck, moving the material of my coat out of the way before refocusing his eyes on the road.

“I’ll be buried in you all night, Gemma.”

I’m on his bed, on my knees, and my breath hitches while he lightly grazes the red strap of my bra.

“I love your hair like this.” He fingers a few tendrils of loose hair from my bun.

I soak in his compliment. With Damon next to me, his fingers on me. I can’t wait for him to be inside again.

“Take off your bra.” I do as he says. Then I grip his shirt, silently urging him to remove it. He does, and moisture pools between my legs at the sight of his bare chest.

“I thought about this all day,” he continues, eyeing my breasts. “It was the sexiest thing... to have you ask for what you want.”

His words spark a shiver down my spine. That is what this morning was, wasn’t it? Asking for what I wanted.

By the time I reach for him, he’s taken off his trousers and boxers halfway. He’s gripping his cock, his gaze penetrating mine, eyes dark, like he’s trying to blacken my soul with a single glance.

He probably could. A few looks and words were all it took to get me in his bed.

“ No more foreplay, ” I beg him .

But he pushes me onto the bed, refusing to listen. He’s torturing me—kissing me all over and sucking me.

He’s exploring all of me, testing my patience, delaying gratification.

As he looks at me with admiration and a touch of something else I can’t pinpoint, I can’t imagine my life without Damon. I can’t imagine not talking to him, not arguing with him, not seeing him, not hearing the bristly tone of his voice and choice of words that he reserves for the entire world.

He’s teasing my sex, running his fingers all around it, circling the edges of my clit, touching everywhere but where I desperately need.

“Damon, I’ll die if you don’t fuck me now.” My head shifts on the pillow, my pussy against his hand one minute. The next, he’s on top of me, thrusting inside of me. A moan escapes me while he groans, burying his lips in the crook of my neck.

I can’t believe he’s fucking me without a condom after getting upset for doing so this morning. Not that I’ll complain—I love feeling the rawness of him inside of me.

He then cups my cheek with his hand, rocking against me, staring at me as if I’m the goddess of light. When he kisses me next, I close my eyes, losing my inhibitions to the sensations, to the pain and pleasure of having Damon inside me twice today after years of unwanted abstinence.

“You’re beautiful with me filling you.” He halts his next words when his lips seal with mine. I suck on his tongue, biting gently, leading him to thrust harder.

In one swift movement, his mouth pulls away and so does his erection. He twists my body so that my stomach touches the bed. He grabs my hips, and I welcome him deep within me.

“Damon.”

He’s holding me down, my ass high up, inviting perfect thrusts from him.

God .

This is better than riding a bike. This is my epiphany. Damon cures my addiction to thrills better than anything or anyone else in my life ever did.

I squirm. He’s so deep—so very deep.

I’m breathless and restless, gripping the sheets as he leans closer to me, torturing my nipples before he torments my clit.

“Let go, Gemma.” The sound of his voice as he says my name sends me to a cloud full of ecstasy. I moan out his name, loud and breathless, as I come around his cock. He’s right there, right there with me, groaning and gripping me tightly by the hips.

I feel his release, my sex satisfied, my breathing shallow.

He pulls out and comes crashing onto the bed next to me, kissing my hair. I turn around and hook my arms around his neck—kissing the marks I left on it this morning.

Two blue eyes swirl through my thoughts but I push them away. This is what I wanted. I wanted this, I wanted him . And I can’t bring myself to regret it.

My heart beats stupidly fast against my chest. Can Damon hear it? What does he think of this? Of us.

It’s different with you.

I close my eyes, letting his words consume me, reassure me. Heat moves swiftly through me again as he traces his fingers up and down my back. The hair on my skin rises and so do my breaths.

“You okay?” He grabs the back of my neck. I nod. I’m more than okay. I’m perfect. “Hungry?”

I nod in response, clearing my throat. I don’t trust myself to speak. I’m so content, so happy . I’m afraid of what will come out. Afraid I’ll pour my feelings out.

“Cat got your tongue, Gemma ?” He nuzzles his nose on my neck before kissing me there. The way he says my name, God . I never thought I’d see the day where a man could turn me on so much with a word.

He moves on top of me, pushing my legs apart. “Stop thinking... nothing will happen to your job, I told you. No matter what. ”

What?

Of course he’d think I’m afraid of getting fired, of getting involved. I probably should be, but all I can think about are my true feelings for him and where Harvey will stand.

“Okay.”

I’m so close to falling in love with you ... so close I might already be there.

I can’t possibly tell another man that I love him. Because he’s not ready to hear it. Because I’m not ready to say it.

He ends up ordering lasagna, telling me he doesn’t want us to waste time cooking. The food is delicious. I love how he feeds me bits and pieces as we sit on his leather couch, talking half the time and silencing each other with our lips the other half.

Then he fucks me the rest of the night.

No, no, NO!

Don’t do it—don’t—I’m begging you, f-for me ... please. PLEASE—

I wake up with a jerk, my heart beating and stomping in my chest like a madman. It takes a few seconds for me to recognize my surroundings, and when I glance down, I know why I’m sweating.

Damon. Damon’s arms tightly wrapped around my waist.

“No. No !” He’s yelling, thrashing all over me as his head bobs from side to side on my stomach.

“Damon, wake up.”

“It’s my fault . . . all my fault . . .”

I manage to push him off. I probably shouldn’t wake him up but the last thing I want is for him to stay in this dark, painful state of mind, even if it’s not real. When I shake his shoulders, his eyes open at the same time as he roughly catches my wrist.

“Hey . . . it’s okay. You’re okay. ”

He lets go of my wrist, staring at me like I’m the devil incarnate, and stumbles his way to the bathroom, slamming the door.

I hear the shower turn on, and I’m left here on his gray satin-covered bed, wiping off the sweat he left on my stomach with the sheet.

What nightmare could be so bad he’d still be angry once he snapped out of it? Is it related to the pain that crosses through his eyes? The bleak and brooding paintings?

I check the time on my phone and see that we have to be up for work in a few hours.

We.

I like the sound of it.

I swallow down the fear, the nerves for the unknown and the inevitable decisions.

Before I question my own motives or stop myself, I’m closing the bathroom door, staring at the fogged-up glass shower wall.

Each footstep brings me closer to him, closer to the hot steam that envelops me in a warm hug as I step inside his massive shower.

He could have a foursome in here and still have space left. It’s large enough you can’t feel the walls around you; you can’t feel claustrophobic.

“Not now.” He spits out in a daring warning. He means it with every fire in his being, but I can’t take no. Not after witnessing the yell that just came out of his mouth and all the pained glares he’s given me since we met.

I want to be here for him the same way he’s there for me without realizing it. Slowly, day by day, he brought me out of the darkness and toward the tunnel of light.

I wrap my arms around his muscular body. His tall frame prevents the water from wetting my hair.

“I’m here,” I whisper, planting a kiss on his back. I wonder where his tattoo is. I’m positive I’ve had the privilege of eying every inch of him and still, I’ve yet to find it .

He turns to face me, and a danger lurks in his eyes, screaming at me to stay the hell away from him, but his actions contradict all his words. Everything he’s done so far has shown me that he’s not as bad as he likes to believe.

Always look at a man’s actions—not his words.

I repeat his mantra in my mind until I start to believe it.

“Get out.”

I step back and take in the harshness of his words. The rejection tastes bitter, so bitter and so familiar I can’t help but think I’m doomed to be rejected by men for the rest of my life.

Don’t accept this, Gemma. You don’t need another man treating you like you’re the dirty rust of a beat-up car.

I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm. The heat his touch projects into my body shouldn’t be legal. It’s living on the brink of danger, between two lines, not knowing what’s more right than wrong.

And I live for this. I live for this buzz, for standing on the edge, not knowing if I’ll slip and fall.

“Wait.” He pulls me to him, his hands snaking around my neck. It’s wet, the warm water adding to his touch that ignites my body.

“Gemma... look at me.” He tilts my chin up with his thumb. “I can’t give you more... I... Look at me . I can’t do this. Go back to him, Gemma... I’m not who you think I am.”

For the first time since I was a young child, I want to cry. He probably wouldn’t even notice anyway; we’re in the shower.

This feels like goodbye.

This is goodbye. And it hurts so much I can’t fathom tomorrow and the day after.

I can’t imagine waking up and having to forget about Damon or to push him out of my heart.

I hoist up to my toes, hoping to change his mind. “I thought you just wanted my body.”

“I did—I do. But you deserve more. ”

I know that I do, and I want it. The more. I want the more so badly.

“One day at a time, Damon.” I hear the desperation in my voice. I clear my throat to remove the bile of sadness and grief that formed from listening to him push me away again.

Him warning me.

I end my misery by grabbing on roughly to his neck and kissing him so he doesn’t have the chance to doubt us any longer.

He grabs my legs, and they snake around him like they were born to do so. Then we stagger back against the tile wall, my body warm from the steam of the water, my mouth heated by his able tongue.

He rushes inside my pussy. And he’s hard, so, so hard.

I’m sore to the point of pain because he’s the hardest I’ve ever felt a man within my walls but I take it. I love every minute of it as my whimpers of pain turn into cries of pleasure.

“I don’t want to stop fucking you,” he says urgently.

“Then don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. . .” Oh, he thrusts good, and hard, and deep. He knows what he’s doing. “I’ll break you... and your stupid na?ve heart. You’ll regret not listening to me, Gemma. I’m no good for you.”

“Damon, stop ! I’ll decide . . . it’s my choice . . . I want you.”

He groans at my words or maybe it’s the love marks I’m leaving on his back; I can’t be sure. I hate when he does this, when he tells me what I’ll do, what will happen.

He doesn’t know shit.

For once in the past two and a half years, things are clearer, like I’m finally heading toward where I’m meant to be.

And I’m convinced I’m meant to be in his arms.

I want him, irrevocably—too deeply. And I can’t think of anything that could change my mind.