Page 111 of Speak

I know when.

Ihatethat I know when.

It’s when even in her silence, her home was still loud and livelier than this fucking crypt. She was desperate to make memories, create new ones she could hang on her walls, books ready for her to annotate, to highlight, to tab. There are knickknacks somewhere out in the world, ready to be purchased and placed amongst her shelves and her mantle, a house just waiting to be a home. Whereas my home already had all those things, memories already attached, and yet, it was empty. A mausoleum-in-waiting full of my haunted memories, awards, and pictures with presidents and old classmates I hadn’t spoken to in over a decade.

Unhappy and mildly irritated, as is my constant mood lately, I leave my seat, discard the rest of my dinner, rinse my plate and utensils, the only ones that are ever dirtied, leave it in the sink to dry and put on my running shoes.

I set the alarm before leaving my house, heading to the trails but my feet lead me elsewhere, padding along the frequented path to her home. I punch in the code, jog through her garden, run up the few steps of her back porch that’s lit up by a light and also fairy lights, truly recognizing the changes, I spot her in a large circular hanging chair like the one in her library. Her face comes into focus.

Raven is sitting back, her knees up to her chest, a blanket around her, thick socks an RMU sweatshirt, thick black leggings, dark hair in a messy bun atop her head, escaped tendrils framing her face, a textbook balancing on her knees, highlighter in her hand. She is the most divine thing I have ever seen. The epitome of ethereal beauty in the soft glow of the soon-to-be setting sun, the lit twinkling lights, she arches a dark brow in question.

I clear my throat to rid the chunks of my heart that have climbed up. “Have you eaten?”

She nods once and I step closer to her, a moth to a flame, ready to burn in her fire. She closes the textbook and places it on the table before her, the one separating us. The one that makes it feel as though she’s an entire world away from me even though she’s probably only six feet from my grasp. Her feet touch the floor, and she leans over to close her laptop. It’s now that I’m certainly becoming more aware of my surroundings. The new patio furniture, agrill – the promise of cookouts in the summer, the hanging chair meant to hold a pair of lovers.

“Well, I’m going to go on a run, and Damon doesn’t want me to leave you alone too long. Join me.”

She rolls those pretty eyes at me.

“Get your shoes on.”

Raven sighs, obviously annoyed by my intrusion on her lonely study session, but I am a man of my word. She seems to ponder the choices she has; to either go with me willingly or face mine or Damon’s choice of consequences. She sighs again, this time heavily and she stands, only to head inside, I follow to just the threshold of her house as she slips on her shoes, bending to tie the infamous black-and-white high-top sneakers that are worn down. She slips her phone into her pocket and a pair of fingerless gloves.

We’re on the path that’s only illuminated by the setting sun, which we have about an hour left of daylight. She stretches, bending over first to one leg then the other, lunging and then taking a deep breath. Her stride is strong, keeping up with me until we get to a part of the trail that ascends, man-made natural stairs made of boulders and logs. I reach the top before her, and I hide behind a large red maple tree, watching as she looks around. She squints her eyes, trying to control her breathing. She puts her hands on her knees and looks around, wiping a bit of sweat off her brow.

I’m interested in seeing if she’ll call out to me.

Her eyebrows bunch together, worry etching across her face and when a twig snaps under my weight, she tenses. A doe being watched by a hunter. I step towards her more carefully, hyperaware of the little breaths escaping her, creating little puffs of fog. I get right behind her, letting my own breath create a misty cloud. “Scared?”

I see the tremor run through her. At either being frightened or our close proximity, I’m not sure, but a surge of desire pulses through me, the feeling shaking me to my core. “Do you want to run, Siren?” I let my finger trace down her arm. “Archer made me aware you prefer kindness… I tried that, didn’t I?”

She whips her head around, whiskey eyes snapping at mine.

“In the library… yesterday?” I remind her. “Letting you turn in your little debates on paper? Do you think I would do this for anybody else? No, Siren, I wouldn’t. I have shown you kindness when I am not akind man. But I don’t think you need kindness, not from me. Others pity you, don’t they? Poor little weak, Raven. So traumatized she can’t even speak.Tongueless.” I whisper.

Anger flashes in her eyes and when her hand flies out to slap me I grab it and yank her to me. “Now, that’s not very nice, is it, mute?”

Chest heaving she struggles in my grasp and it fucking fuels me. I like her anger, her fight. I love to see the lioness she hides so well behind her mousey façade and yet I want to tame this hellcat. “I think you like it when I’m mean to you, don’t you? I bet if I reach into your leggings I’ll find you already wet and aching to get fucked in the woods by a man you barely know.”

Siren struggles against me when I slip my free hand into the waistband of her leggings, slipping into her panties and we both inhale sharply when I cup her pussy and find her slick with both her sweat and her arousal. “Did you walk around wet all day remembering how full you felt seated on my cock?”

I shove two fingers inside roughly, watching as her jaw drops open, those fucking lips, those eyes, widening then closing. “Were you disappointed we were interrupted? I was,” I admit, “all day I walked around with your scent in my nose, your flavor on my lips and tongue, remembering the feel of you and how I was denied feeling this pristine pussy milk me.”

I withdraw my fingers and rub her essence across her bottom lip, and then push them past onto her waiting tongue, fucking her mouth with my fingers. “I could have killed him for ruining that sacred moment between us…” I run my tongue along her lips and into her open mouth, tasting the delicacy that is Raven Olivia Monroe and I groan into her mouth.

“I want you to run, Raven. When I catch you, remember there is no one out here to hear you or stop me. I’m going to fuck you like the beast I am, on the ground or against a tree, but I’m going to fuck you like the dirty little whore you are.”

I release her arm and without a backwards glance, she takes off into the trees. I have three things on my side: 1) I’ve been running in this forest for the last three years. 2) She’s fast, but I’m faster. 3) She’ll get tired or exhaust her leg and have to stop.

After two minutes I go after her, dashing between the trees, only squatting now and then to look at the pattern her feet leave, tracking my prey. Letting instinct take over, I ignore the hooting of the owls nestled overhead, the last chittering of cicadas that haven’t gotten the memo that summer is over. The last rays of the sun are still glowing when I hear twigs snapping to my left.

It's quiet.

I can't hear her but in a demented way I've become accustomed to, I cansenseher. I can feel her fear, her excitement, her need to abandon the demons in her mind, mirroring my own sentiments.

She needs to be fucked. Hard. Owned entirely.

Another snap, this time behind me, sneaky little minx, trying to get back to the trail. I turn in time to see her take off in a sprint and I give chase, catching her in a tackle and when we fall to the soft earth, she struggles and my dick hardens to stone.

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