Page 81 of Silenced

CASSIE

THE FOLLOWING DAY

“Absolutely not,”I snarl, reiterating the words with my fingers, repeating them twice over so he can know that I mean business.

The guy might have found my hot spots and knows how to target them better than radar, and sure, he’s working some weird wiles on me, but no way, no how, is he going to shave me down there.

His head tilts to the side in confusion.

Asshole—he totally understands me.

“Absolutely. Not,” I repeat, flicking my hand at him.

His expression never changes—of course, it doesn’t!

The only time it goddamn does is when I’m orgasming or when he shoves his cum inside my pussy!

Gritting my teeth because I refuse to get turned on at the memories ofthoseexpressions right now, I try to wriggle off the perch in the shower then huff when pain flashes through me as my thumb collides with the ‘shelf’, twisting it back.

Immediately, he’s there, scowling at me while he grabs my shoulders and pins me to the wall. The razor is tucked between his pinkie and ring finger, angled away from me so it won’t cut me.

Peering at the razor then glowering at him as I tuck my stupid hand against my chest, I retort, “I can do it myself.”

Over dinner last night, I came to learn he can lip-read, so I say the words again, hoping they’ll make an impact.

Naturally, they don’t.

When he lets go of me and shuts off the water, my mouth gapes.

Did I win that round?

I watch him in bewilderment as he snags the bathrobe from the wall.

Inwardly, I start to celebrate, fully expecting to have the robe tucked over my shoulders, then…

Fuck.

He drops the robe to the floor and kneels on it.

There goes my covering for the day.

Shit.

That’s when I see his dick.

“Do you take Viagra?” I blurt out.

He frowns. “What?”

“You’re always hard.”

Ignoring me, his hands move to my knees and he pulls them apart, levering himself between my thighs even as I squeeze to keep them together.

Still, after days of seeing various body parts of his down there, I’ve come to associate his oddities with orgasms.

I’m certain women in similar positions to me are facing worse conditions than this, but it’s starting to get ridiculous—climaxes are becoming a right rather than a privilege.

A fact that’s confirmed when I can feel the soft hum of expectation in my core.

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