Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Arkin
I ’m dreaming.
I have to be. After all, my uncle is still in prison and not here in the bedroom with us. But as I rub my eyes to clear my vision, he steps out of the shadows with a gun in his hand, his eyes wild and cruel. His tattered, grease-streaked overalls hang loosely from his wiry frame, and a faint scent of engine oil lingers around him, a frayed flannel shirt peeking out from beneath. “You spoke, Arkin. I thought we agreed that your voice is mine.”
I shake my head in denial. I didn’t speak. But my uncle has that wicked gleam in his eyes, and I know that gleam. It’s how he looks when he’s about to hurt me.
Scuffed and caked in dried mud, his boots thud softly against the floor. “Don’t lie to me, son. You let that boy hear your voice. Remember what I said would happen if you talked again?”
You would hurt the people I love.
He reads the answer in my eyes. “That’s right. You know I always keep true to my promise.”
Zach sleeps soundly beside me, with the quilt around his waist, and I angle my body to protect him, muscles taut with fear.
My uncle scratches his grimy temple with the gun. “What are you going to do? Take a bullet for him? How very noble.”
He steps closer, his mud-caked boots sinking into the soft rug, the floorboards creaking. “You forget something. I know where your siblings live.”
No…
His lips curl back, revealing his tobacco-stained teeth. “Your sister has grown into a fine young woman. I followed her to the duck pond the other day. You know, the one in the village, about a ten-minute walk from their house. She wore a cute lilac dress.”
I fist my hands. Stay away from her.
As he moves around the bed, he raises the gun and pulls back on the hammer. “You can’t protect everyone.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “You’re not real. This is a dream. You’re in prison.”
The gleam in his dark eyes deepens. “Am I? Are you sure?” Then he chuckles cruelly. “You know I’ve always loved our games, son.”
“I’m not your son.” My voice is low and terse.
“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. Earlier today, 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 wake hours 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.
“What about Arkin?”
His mum.
Zach rips off the quilt and smiles like the devil. His hair is a mess, tousled in all directions, and his cheeks are flushed.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he shouts. He holds his finger up in front of his mouth and then leans down to suck my orgasm out of me.
One thing is for certain: Zach is quickly mastering the art of giving head, and as his warm mouth envelops my dick, the world tilts on its axis, and I fist my hands in the sheet.
“Breakfast is on the table.” His mum’s voice drifts through the door.
Zach pops off my dick with a wicked grin. “Thanks.” Then he whispers, “I’m having room service.”
This time, I’m the one who braids my fingers through his mussed-up hair and guides him back down to finish what he started.
Zach sucks and slurps. What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in eagerness, and it doesn’t take long to get me over the finish line.
Moments later, I melt into the mattress while he swallows down my cum.
Zach sits up and wipes his chin. “You sleep like the dead.”