Page 14 of Don't Speak
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I wake up to what has probably been the worst nightmare I’ve had in a while. They come and go sporadically, but reliving the day I found out my sister was dead is not how I want to start my morning. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the scent of that room—the smell of sterile death. I can still see her lifeless body lying on the cold steel table. The peaceful, serene look on her face. It still hurts just as much as it did seven years ago.
Wanting to make myself feel better, I pull open the camera feed, and what I see leaves me in absolute shock. There, on the screen, is my little lioness pleasuring herself, and fuck if it isn’tthe hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I turn up the volume, listening to every breathy moan and pleasure-filled whimper.
I am instantly hard, almost painfully so. I pull my cock out, vowing to have enough restraint not to finish. Grabbing it with my hand, I lean back in bed against the headboard and lightly stroke it. It’s not enough to make me come, but it’s enough that it gives me a little bit of a reprieve.
My lioness’ breathing quickens, and I know she’s close. I give my cock another light stroke, the feeling leaving me frustrated yet pleasured at the same time.She’s so fucking beautiful like this.
Within seconds, my lioness is screaming her release when my name leaves her lips. It takes all of me not to burst on the spot, but I fight back every urge my body is giving me to do so. I will not come until I am deep inside my goddess.
I tuck myself back into my pants and get out of bed to start my day. I periodically check the cameras throughout the morning, but for the most part, it’s pretty uneventful. She went grocery shopping, did the laundry, and situated her cat and his needs for the week. It’s not until her phone rings that my curiosity is piqued. Amelia is at work, so I know it can’t be her.
“Hello?” I hear her say.
The phone isn’t on speakerphone, so I’m only able to hear one side of the conversation.
“Hi, Mom…” she responds, and I immediately feel rage consuming me. This bitch has the audacity to be calling her right now.
Nikki’s mom is a real piece of work. She made her do something no mother should ever make their daughter do, and it was a slap in the face to sexual assault survivors. I’ve had that bitch on my list for years, but I wanted it to be after Nikki, and I got to know each other and until I was certain it was whatshe wanted. Despite everything her mother has done, Nikki still loves her.
“What do you want?” she asks, her tone sounding very no-bullshit.
I can only imagine the mother of the year needing one thing. Money. Money for her alcohol and pill addiction. Whatever man she entertained this week probably up and left her, leaving her high and dry. It’s the same old song and dance. Although, I am curious to know how she was able to call Nikki. Nikki blocked her number years ago.
“Of course you do. Why else would you be calling? Is your new flavor of the week up and leaving you again? The fact that I blocked your number didn’t give you an answer?”
Bingo.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Dana. You may have birthed me, but you were no mother,” she spits before hanging up the phone.I am so fucking proud of her.She wasn’t this person when I first started stalking her almost 5 years ago. She was timid and compliant. She would do whatever her mother asked whenever she asked it. Then, one day, she finally got sick of it. She chewed her mother out for how shitty she was, unleashing a torrent of emotions on her over what Dana made her do and how she’d never forgive her. Dana has been blocked ever since. It was the first day my little lioness grew her claws. She’s been a fierce one ever since.
After the phone call, my lioness gets in the shower, and this is where I log off. She’ll be at work within the next thirty minutes if I know her, which means I need to get there in fifteen. She appreciates punctuality.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My shower couldn’t be hot enough. In fact, if it burned, I’d welcome it. Hearing her voice brings up so many painful memories. Memories I have been running from since I was a kid. Memories that haunt my nightmares. I hate her. I hate that she took the one thing I needed most. My mother. The thought of what I could have had taunts me every time I see a mother-daughter duo out in public. Every time someone announces they’re getting married and their mom goes wedding dress shopping with them. When someone announces they’re pregnant and their mother is there by their side. Watching all the mother-daughter duos getting their hair and nails done orgoing shopping together. Sadness consumes me at the thought of what could have been if things had just been different. If she had been able to control her drinking. If she had never met Sean. Tears form as I think about everything I didn’t get to have with the person I loved most in this world.
I’m cutting time a bit close today due to the events, so I steel myself, masking the emotions I’m so used to disassociating from, and shut the water off, getting out, and throwing myself together in a presentable manner. I give Simba his evening pats and rush out the door. The whole drive there, I try to think of something else other than the witch who ruined my morning, but all thoughts lead back to Dean. We’re working together tonight, and after my dream, I hope I can keep it together. Besides, I just met him. I can’t fuck him yet, can I? Even if I wanted to, he isn’t interested. He’s just a nice guy. With a darkness that calls to yours.
I pull into the usual spot but head around to the front to walk through the front doors. Something about descending the spiral staircase just makes me smile, and I think I could use that right now. Walking through the doors, I begin my descent. The smooth iron of the stairs feels cool to the touch, and with each step I take, a peacefulness washes over me. This is why I don’t want to have to leave this place. I’ve had the longest sense of normalcy here.
With only a few steps to go, I turn around a corner, and there he is, standing behind the bar in a black tee and a pair of denim jeans, shining the glassware. He looks up at me, his hair the perfect length and his eyes shining with something almost akin to desire. I chalk that up to my mind playing tricks on me and step onto the floor, walking toward him.
“Wow. I’m not used to people beating me here,” I tell him.
“Yeah, well, I had nothing else going on today. I decided to get a jump start on anything that needed to be done before weopen,” he tells me. Self-sufficiency is really becoming a turn-on. All of the others I’ve trained, besides Cora, always showed up at least 30 minutes late, and they were slower than molasses at making drinks. You gotta move quickly if you want to work here.
“Well, tell me what still needs to be done then, boss,” I joke, but Dean’s head snaps in my direction, and the fire that burns in his eyes is back. It lasts for only a second before he tells me, “You can grab these glasses and put them back on the shelf if you’d like.”
So, I do. I grab all the newly shined glasses and head over to the shelves to stock them, making sure the martini glasses are hung by their stem in the holder. Once I’ve finished, I go to take a step back when I’m stopped by a hard body. That’s not the only thing I notice that’s hard.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to squeeze behind you as you stepped back,” he says apologetically, grabbing each arm to stabilize me.
Heat creeps up my neck at the feeling of his hard cock in his pants. Why is he hard right now?
He seems to know what I’m thinking and quickly steps back. Okay, so maybe he does find me attractive. My heart picks up at that thought.
I play it cool, pretending I didn’t even notice.
