Page 53 of A Voice In Chains
“Seems you finally grew a backbone. It was about time.” He aims the weapon at my head. “Say hello to your parents for me.”
Bang!
I wake with a start, gasping for breath, my brow slick with sweat.
Another nightmare.
Zach is still asleep.
We’re alone. It was just a dream.
Just a dream.
But I still feel eyes watching me from the shadows. It’s my mind playing tricks, imagining things that aren’t real. Earliertoday, I used my voice when I spoke to Zach, which was a significant moment for me. I haven’t talked to anyone in years.
For the longest time, my silence was a weapon—the only weapon in my arsenal.
My voice was also my uncle’s prize when he broke me.
I rub my face and take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. Zach barely stirs when I lie down next to him, and with my arm around his waist, I press my nose to his neck and breathe in his soothing scent. We’re both naked from our earlier lovemaking.
He stirs before turning around and pulling me close.
“You okay, baby?” he whispers sleepily.
My chest tightens, and he lifts his head off the pillow, but it’s too dark to see my face clearly, for which I’m grateful.
“Another nightmare?” he asks softly, sliding his fingers up my arm and leaning in to rest his forehead against mine. “You can talk to me.”
I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
His soft breath drifts over my face. “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I protect people. They don’t protect me,I think, as he kisses me.
We settle in, and Zach nuzzles my head in the crook of his neck, playing with my hair. “Try to sleep, okay?”
I wakehours later with Zach’s enticing lips around my dick. I don’t know how long he’s been blowing me for, but I have to shove his pillow over my mouth or risk alerting his family.
He sinks back down my thick length with a satisfied, masculine hum, and I bite the pillow to muffle my groan as he sucks harder.
It feels… Fuck, there are no words for how good it feels.
I’m almost on the edge, thrusting into Zach’s hot mouth, when the door handle turns.
Zach’s dad knocks on the door. “Are you awake, boys?”
I try to shift away, but Zach holds me down by my hips, and even though he’s hidden beneath the blanket, it’s moving up and down, and I’m red-faced and about to blow my load into Mr. Beckett’s son’s mouth.
He’ll get the shock of a lifetime if he enters the room now.
Another knock. “Zach? Are you in there?”
My head drops back. There’s not a muscle in my body that’s not locked up tight and ready to snap with the tension.
Zach’s devilish mouth feels too good now as his father raps his knuckles against the door a third time.
“I think he’s in the shower,” Zach’s dad says, when another voice joins him.
