Scream For me

I SIT on one of the decks with Weston’s parents as he puts Daisy to bed. I offered to do it, but he insisted, his threat from dinner lingering.

“So, are you from Chicago originally?” Alec asks as I sip a small glass of Prosecco, the warm night breeze on my face.

“I am, born and raised.”

“Are your parents still in the city?”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“No, my mother passed away and-”

“Oh, that’s tragic. I’m so sorry,” she interrupts.

I smile awkwardly because I never know what to say when I tell people that and they respond like that. “Thanks, and my dad lives in Florida now.”

“Ah,” Alec says, nodding his head, “the retirement life.”

I look at Alec’s profile. Strangely, Weston looks nothing like his father who is shorter and squat, his barrel chest and broad shoulders making him appear larger than he is. Weston is tall and lean like his mom and has her eyes but not her blond hair, which if I had to guess is probably from a salon anyway.

I don’t have to turn around to know that Weston has joined us; I can hear the ice in his glass as he steps over the threshold behind me. “Are you married, kid?” “Jesus, Dad,” he says.

“Uh, no, I’m not.”

“Why not? A beautiful young woman like you should have a husband and kids by now. How old are you?” Weston lets out an exasperated sigh, but I don’t take his father’s comments personally. I know it’s an old-school way of thinking.

“I’m twenty-seven. I was engaged previously but unfortunately, he passed away before the wedding so obviously, we couldn’t get married.” I say it with a weird smile-I can feel it on my face-but it’s because it’s such a depressing answer. I guess I could have just said because I haven’t met the one yet, but I like people knowing about Carson. It might make them uncomfortable but it’s not a part of my past I’m ashamed of or will hide.

“You poor thing.” His mother clutches her chest. “You’ve dealt with so much loss.”

I see Weston out of the corner of my eye staring out over the water. I know he understands the feeling of loss. I want to reach my hand out and grab him, but I don’t.

“Well, I think I’m going to retire early tonight. Been a long day. I appreciated the conversation and company. Have a good night.”

“Good night,” his parents say in unison, but Weston doesn’t say a word.

I walk inside, heading downstairs and through the hallway. I wash my face, apply a heavy layer of moisturizer, and brush my teeth. I remove my dress and root through my luggage, trying to find my pajamas, but I don’t see them.

“Shit, are you serious?” I pull everything out, going through it again, but I still can’t find them. I refold my clothes, placing them in the chest of drawers, and open the armoire to hang up my dress. A single white Oxford is hanging in it. I run my hand over it, glancing over my shoulder as if anyone would be in my room with me.

I reach up and slide the shirt off the hanger, slipping it up my arms. I’m almost finished buttoning it when a voice from behind startles me.

“What are you doing?”

My head snaps up. “I forgot my pajamas,” I blurt out as I turn around to see Weston standing in my doorway, one shoulder leaning against it. He’s changed into his pajamas, a pair of black pants, and a black t-shirt. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes scan me, then he presses off the doorframe to walk toward me. He hooks his finger beneath my chin, his expression almost cold. “Take it off.”

“Sorry,” I say again as I begin to fumble with the buttons. I realize it must seem weird to see me wearing his shirt, even after this afternoon.

Maybe this was his wife’s favorite shirt of his or something.

When I reach the last button, he spins me around to face away from him before pulling the shirt slowly down my arms and tossing it onto the bed. I’m left standing in just my underwear. I cross my arms over my naked chest. He drags the back of his fingers down my spine slowly until he reaches the top of my ass.

“Guess I was wrong,” he mutters, hooking his finger in the waistband of my panties. “I didn’t peg you as a thong girl.” I don’t respond and he removes his hand quickly. I hear a slight rustling and feel his arm gently graze my back. I look over my shoulder at him and see him pulling his shirt over his head.

“Arms up,” he says and I obey, lifting my arms as he pulls his t-shirt down over my arms and head. “That will be way more comfortable.” He pulls my hair to the side, planting a featherlight kiss against my neck.

The shirt is warm and it smells like him. It hangs down to right above my mid-thigh. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?” he murmurs against my skin.

I turn back to face him. “Yes.” I know I risk ruining the moment but I have to ask him again. “Is there anything going on between you and Natalie I don’t want to be the cause-”

“No,” he says firmly. “I have no feelings for her, never have. We are not a couple nor together.” His eyes search mine, probably trying to gauge if I believe him.

I change the subject. “Is this the part when you apologize for being too rough earlier and tell me you crossed a line you shouldn’t have because you feel pity for me now that you know about my fiance?”

“No,” he says quickly, reaching up to brush my hair over my shoulder.

“Not unless you want me to lie to you?” I shake my head no. “Good, because I’m not sorry. I know I was rough but you enjoyed it. I probably should have asked if it was okay to speak to you in that manner, but I could see it in your eyes-you liked being at my mercy, didn’t you?” His eyes dart back and forth like he’s trying to read my mind.

“Yes.”

“Good, because all I’ve thought about tonight is how fucking sexy it was to know you were sitting there beside me so politely with a belly full of my cum.” He leans in, his hand coming to rest against the side of my neck as his long fingers wrap delicately around it. “The only thing that would have made it better was if your pussy was dripping with me too.”

My knees wobble and I’m half tempted to beg him to take me right now. I want him to. I want to be completely at his mercy with every inch of my body, but he steps back.

“Good night, Miss Flowers.”

“Hey,” I say before I can stop myself. He stops in my doorway and turns around. “Why did you put me in a room at the other end of the boat from everyone else?”

He smiles for a second, but then it vanishes. It’s almost devious the way he looks me up and down like he’s ready to pounce. My stomach drops as his eyes grow dark.

“So that I can fuck you for as long and hard as I want and nobody can hear you scream.”