Page 59 of Savage Scream

Ok so maybe notanything, this is still new to me, but riding him sounds fun.

Jared and I shift around, manoeuvring ourselves in place until he is laying back against my mattress and I’m hovering over his cock.

He bites his lip as he stares up at me, palming my tits as I grip his cock and position it at my entrance. Then, I lower myself down.

I tense up as the stretch bites a bit, and Jared shifts his hands to my hips.

“Easy, Dee. Just take it slow. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Jared has changed so much since the accident. He’s so much more attentive. Caring.

I guess I have changed, too. I’ve never been so open with another person before.

It’s like we finally accepted that we can’t fight this thing between us, and our souls have morphed together. I never thought I’d trust Jared like this. Not after he was such an annoying arsehole in the beginning, but I do trust him. And that’s big for me.

I let my body adjust to Jared’s size before I start moving, practically salivating from the feel of him hitting so deep. It’s intoxicating. Jared uses his grip on my hips to help me get a rhythm going, and before I know it, our bodies are working together, building an intense pleasure so deep inside me that I never knew existed.

The sounds of the bustling house beyond my bedroom door fall away as we lose ourselves, and the only reason I know I’m being vocal when I start convulsing around his cock is because he slaps his hand over my mouth until I’m spent.

17

JARED

Fucking Elodie Porter is my favourite thing to do. Nothing will ever top it.

Ever.

After our session in her bed, we go for a walk, needing to get away from the noises coming from Rhys’ room.

Thank Christ the twins were watching a cartoon in the theatre room before they went to bed. Poor things would be scarred for life hearing that shit.

I take Dee to Firelane Park, which was the park I picked her up as the ’package’ the first night I’d worked for Griffin.

Dee knows why we are here. To talk about Travis’ mum and Dee’s claim that she killed her.

We sit on the landing at the top of the slide, and Dee takes out her phone and writes out a message before showing me.

‘There’s a lot to say. Too much to say out loud, so I’ll do it this way.’

I nod in understanding, knowing that Dee can still choose if and when she wants to speak, and I wait patiently as she puts her words into text, handing her phone to me when she’s done.

‘Long story short, Trav’s mum was an abusive bitch, and my dad was a loyal, decent man. He took what she dished out until what she dished out was too much.

She was beating him that day. Used a frying pan and wouldn’t stop. Biggest rage I’d seen her in. She was beating him because he didn’t cook Travis dinner but got him takeaway instead. Dad only did that because Trav begged for the fast food and Dad gave in. I’ll never remind Travis of that, though. I never want him to feel guilty or blame himself for what happened.

Anyway, his mum came home, found Travis and me eating the burgers and fries and she lost it at my dad. When Travis begged for her to stop, she turned and told him to shut the fuck up, and that she was coming for him next. I knew she meant it. She always did when she said that to us.

I ran and got a knife from the bench block. Stabbed her in the arm in the hopes it would get her off my dad. It worked. She got off him but started coming for me, so I ran, grabbing Trav by the arm on my way past, racing for the front door.

I wasn’t fast enough. She grabbed him by his hair and threw him against the wall. It must have knocked him out for a bit because he fell still and quiet, and at first I thought she’d killed him, but I didn’t have time to find out when she started towards him with the frying pan raised. I got in front of her with the knife and stabbed her in the belly.

When she leaped away from me, I lost my hold on the knife which was sticking out of her gut. Then she went crazy. She dropped the frypan, pulled the knife from her flesh and lunged for me, slicing it at me. I was able to mostly protect myself by keeping my arms up.’

“Your arms?” I whisper, turning to look at Dee, and she nods, pulling up her sleeve to run her fingers over the scars.

My heart is racing with pain and anger as I try to picture a little innocent version of Dee, trying to save her brother’s life. Her life.

My gaze drops back to the screen to keep reading, but first, I take Dee’s hand and link my fingers with hers, not wanting her to ever feel as alone as she must have felt on that awful day.

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