Page 84 of Speak

I punch in the gate code, the garage immediately accepting us by opening its door. We set our things down at the entry and she grabs us by the hands, leading us upstairs. I go to her medicine cabinet and pull out an oxy, giving her only one for pain. She takes it but refuses the sleep medication.

We all climb into her large bed big enough for five. When I ask her why it’s so big, she says she always wanted a dog or two and she wanted them to be able to sleep with her comfortably.

When she finally drifts off to sleep, I hear a restless Jonas toss and turn. “What is it?”

“Are you still sure about Maverick?”

I inhale deeply and rub my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “No. I’m not,” I answer honestly. “But I know men like Harrington. If this were the animal kingdom, Maverick would be an apex predator. He’s caught her scent and had a taste of her. He wants her. Badly. I think, with enough reason, and maybe a few threats and possibly blackmail, and just Raven being herself, there’s a chance he won’t betray her or us.”

“But you think she needs him?”

I sigh and look up at the glowing constellations on her ceiling. “I think, a part of her needs what we can’t offer. You and I cater to her. She has us wrapped around her pussy and her little finger-“

“And now her ass.”

I scoff. “Yeah, that too. He can fully discipline her and have no qualms about it. We see one of her tears and we break for her. He sees them and gets hard.”

“That’s so fucked up.” He replies.

“You have no idea how fucked up a man like Harrington truly is.” I reply, tucking Raven in closer to me, letting myself relish in the fact that I’m finally, finally laying in a bed next to my little bird, cage free. The way it was always meant to be… even if the dog she wanted came in the form of a wide receiver that snores.

We wake up to a loud banging sound just a few short hours later… Raven’s gone.

Chapter Twenty-One

Maverick.

There’s something quite infuriating about unwanted depression establishing itself in the marrow of your bones like a bitter cold. It’s been ten days of this. Of this…miseryI can’t shake. It’s maddening to wake up and thoughts of Raven are on my mind. It’s aggravating to go to sleep with images of her flitting in my brain. I can’t shake her. It’s pure unbridled torment.

Did Jonas finally sink into her? Did Damon?

I’ve gone on the University’s student portal and looked up her picture and her phone number, plugging it into my phone against my better judgement and right when I’m about to text I erase the entire thing. What can I even say?

Hey, it's your professor?What about,I’m dreaming of cumming in your tight little ass so much I wake up humping my mattress and then have to jerk off to your picture on the student portal like a horny pre-teen? Because instead of taking you the way I want, I resort to fucking my fist because you’re my student and this is entirely inappropriate.

I groan, dropping my head and then shaking it.

“She blossoms with kindness.”Damon said. I will always reiterate; I amnota kind man. I do not care about her delicate little feelings. I just want to rid myself of this need to have her submit tome and be at my disposal, waiting for me on her knees, to worship me and then pound into her from all angles.

Would she cry out for me? For God? I’d be merciless like He was in the first testament. Unrelenting and decimating. Fuck.

Ten fucking days of these type of conceptions and effigies. Plans on how to ruin her curvaceous body. To bite her, palm her, spank her, devour her, mark her, claim andruinher… I’m in a constant mental headspace of losing touch with who I am and finding my inner beast - becoming one and the same a day at a time. Encroaching on depraved and yet still self-aware enough to realize I’m simply going mad.

Why? What is it about her? Why? Why?Whydo I want her?

Those thighs, the warmth between them, her nectar, silky hair, smooth skin, perfect tits, her scent, those lips, those fucking eyes made of molasses and honey, like Aztec gold and brass. A treasure one would get lost searching for…

A siren singing of treasure below the sea, alluring and dangerous and exciting.

Is that what it is? She excites me?

No. Sheenragesme.

Her silent insolence. Defiant. Too proud to admit when she’s needy.

Ten. Days. Of. This.

I suppose the only good thing that’s come of campus being closed, is that my morning jogs have elongated into trekking through the trails of the wooded area of the lake that surrounds my house. I wake up Sunday morning and begin my routine by making my bed, brushing my teeth, drinking an entire bottle of water, stretching with yoga poses, and then throwing on my joggers and an RMU sweatshirt. I go downstairs and turn the timer on my Keurig so when I get back from my run, I have a mug waiting for me.

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