Page 43 of Speak

“You have no idea how badly I’d fucking do it just to claim you but I won’t have your virginal blood on me. So fine, Raven,” I grab her by the hair and shove her to her knees. “Open your fucking mouth.I'm going to fuck your flawless face and you’re going to be a very good girl and swallow every last drop.” She claws at my thighs and I pull her hair a little more, tears welling into the corners of her eyes.

Perfect.

I unzip my trousers, pull out my cock and swell with pride when she sees what I’m working with. “Tongue out. Taste me.”

My siren obeys, and as soon as her tongue is out I gather my saliva and spit it on her waiting tongue, sneering as she scrunches up her nose and then I push the tip of my cock past those strawberry lips. Her mouth is a wet, velvet haven. “Relax your throat. Fuck, yes. There. So fucking good. Am I the first cock you’ve swallowed?”

Her eyes narrow a resounding yes in that one look and an animalistic pride surges through me. “Keep your eyes on me. Suck. Good fucking girl. This won’t take me long.” I pump my hips, guiding her head by her hair, watching as her cheeks hollow and I fill them back up again as I shove deeper and deeper with each thrust. “Swallow when you feel like gagging. Just like that. A little more. Yes, Siren, yes. Oh. Fuck!”

I cum like a man possessed, my orgasm builds into a searing white-hot pleasure that detonates throughout my body, causing constellations to form in the periphery of my vision as I unload into her warm throat, groaning heavily, thighs shaking, keeping my eyes on the sight of her drinking me like my cum is an elixir of youth.

I finally let her go, tucking myself back into my slacks and she scrambles up to her feet, just as angry as she was when we started but with eyes heavy and full of lust.

Before she opens the door with her back to me, I say, with a smirk, “Being my little secret slut looks so good on you, Siren.”

When she opens the door, she jumps back and I lean over to see the red-rimmed eyes of a young man whose heart has shattered into a thousand pieces, turned to dust, and kicked up by the wind. Jonas says nothing, just nods once, unwilling to look at either of us and leaves us.

I expect her to run after him, to speak his name, to forget the façade, and scream to apologize and tell him she was the victim, not a willing participant… she doesn’t. She throws me a glance full of hatred, tears spilling over, her jaw opens and closes in quick succession, trying so hard to scream after him. Her hand flies to her throat, like Ariel when Ursula takes her voice and my own siren flies after him.

The exchange bothers me, unsettling my bones.

To know she would scream for him if she could.

After one soul revitalizing kiss, I conclude that loving Raven Monroe in her entirety must be maddening, infuriating, all-encompassing and I’m not sure if I could withstand the storm that is she. And for some reason, I want totry.

It isn’t until Wednesday morning when Jonas doesn’t attend my class, she shows up, almost catatonic. A creepy little living phantasm. Her hair is unkempt and disheveled, as if she couldn’t bear the weight of holding a hairbrush up, eyes dark, bags underneath them, cheekbones hollowed out and protruding, her uniform sits wrong on her frame and all she does in my class is stare at the empty chair beside her longingly, Jonas' absence so much louder than it should be.

After my lecture, she comes to me, slowly, her gait lazy and unrefined as if her shoes are too big for her feet. She doesn’t meet my eyes just watches as my hands take the paper she offers to me.

“Raven, I-" Iwhat? I’m sorry? I almost scoff at the thought. I’m not sorry I felt those perfect lips wrapped around my cock; not sorry my tip was enveloped by her velvety throat. I’m definitely not sorry that when I kissed her, something inside of me roared to life.

I am sorry, a tiny bit, that I seem to have broken her in a way I never intended to. But she doesn’t give me the chance to even try to apologize. She simply sighs silently, her entire chest depressing into itself, blinks, and leaves me to my thoughts.

She doesn’t come in on Friday morning.

I grade her paper. An effortless A.

I visit Inferno.

The following Monday morning Jonas appears, looking freshly ravaged and not at all brooding. Raven tenses at his presence when he walks by her to climb up the stairs to get to the seats high up and far away from her and then leaves midway through my lecture when she hears him laughing, talking loudly with other students.

She arrives Wednesday morning, looking even more pitiful, her clothes hanging off her body, no light in her eyes only to hand inher debate but does not stay for my lecture. I thank her as Jonas strides in, arm draped over a petite blonde's shoulder.

I grade her paper, messily scrawled in cursive as if the pen was too heavy. Another annoying effortless A.

Only Jonas shows up on Friday, sitting far away from the blonde, who casually throws him furious glances but he ignores her.

I don’t visit Inferno.

Instead, I find myself at Rayne-Moore Stadium and watch the first home game of the season. I get there in time to watch #19, Jonas Anderson, Yellow Jackets wide receiver, get benched for fighting with our own Quarterback, the charming Chase Prescott.

Yellow Jackets win 21-20 by the skin of their teeth.

________

The following week is more or less the same. Looking gaunt and too skinny, malnourished, like she hasn’t eaten in weeks, Monday morning she stays in my lecture long enough to get the name of the next idiot killer that got caught being foolish, and then she leaves.

Wednesday morning, she turns in her paper and leaves.

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