My head shoots up, and I meet eye-to-eye with tat-man once again. He smiles from the stage and salutes me with the beer in his hand just as Trevor pulls me out of the party, and the front door closes in my face.
“Holy shit, your mom would kill you if she knew what you were wearing right now,” Trevor scolds, shoving me into his car. “What were you thinking coming to the party in that?”
My bottom lip trembles. “I thought I looked good.” It’s hard to mask the vulnerability in my voice. Tonight is not going as I planned.
“You look like a hooker. Let me guess. Staci put you up to this? Only Staci would think it was okay for you to leave your dorm looking the way you do. What the hell were you thinking, Symone? Guys are going to get the wrong idea about you. You’re a nice girl; you don’t need drunken idiots feeling you up and trying to have sex with you!” Trevor glances over at me and frowns.
“Maybe that’s what I wanted to happen.” I meet his eyes and he looks away from me.
“Why would you want attention from guys like that loser you were talking to? He has a bad reputation, Symone. He’s the kind of guy who will chew you up and spit you out. You shouldn’t talk to someone like him.”
“He seemed nice enough. I wasn’t necessarily dressing up for him. The point of this outfit is to attract men in general.”
“Oh you’ve, attracted them alright—and every other dick within a four-mile radius.”
I beam. At least guys are looking at me for once in my life. My entire adolescence was spent being the primary target for verbal bullying. I’m the smart girl. The nerd. The girl who would rather sit in her room curled up with a good book or watching sci-fi and fantasy films than go to a party. People picked on me for my childish wardrobe choices, my love for all things Star Wars, and the fact that I was too nerdy to hang out with someone like Trevor Donahue. If it wasn’t for him being my best friend, I’m sure the bullying would’ve ended up in violence on more than one occasion. It’s kinda nice to be noticed, though. Knowing that guys, including Trevor, are looking at me differently makes me almost proud to be dressed like a hooker for the night—almost.
“So, that was your plan? You were going to show up to my party, drink a little beer, and then go home with the first guy that flirted with you? I wouldn’t allow that to happen, Symone. You’re my best friend.”
“I just wanted to have a little fun. I wanted to let loose and feel pretty for once in my life.”
Trevor looks over at me again and sighs. “There’s a difference between pretty and street corner.” Despite how right he may be about my resemblance to a call girl, there’s no way I will allow him to continue talking about me in a derogatory way. Best friend or not.
“Stop saying that! I’m not a damn hooker. I wasn’t trying to get anyone’s attention but yours,” I blurt, slapping my hand immediately over my mouth.
Trevor pulls up in front of the dorms and stops the car. “Wait, what?” He turns the car off and drops the keys into his lap.
“Nothing, never mind. Tonight, was just one big mistake anyway.” I fiddle with the door handle and try to get out of his car.
“Symone, stop. You need to talk to me. Why are you trying to get my attention?”
I look over at him, forcing back the tears threatening my eyes. I’ve spent half of my life loving this beautiful man sitting next to me, and now all my feelings are about to get rolled out onto the table like a cup full of Yahtzee dice.
“Because . . . well . . . shit . . . how do I say this?” I take a deep breath, pushing down all the nerves rattling my bones and just go for it. “Because I love you, damn it! I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I wanted to come to the party tonight, make you fall in love with me, and give you my virginity. That’s why I dressed this way.” There’s no holding back my tears now. Every screwed up emotion is flooding out of me all at once. Seven years of bottled up feelings have my insides exploding like a water balloon. It started with a small leak, only a tear or two escaping my eyes, then a gigantic hole bursts inside me and I become my own personal fountain of fear. Because that’s what putting yourself out there is: the fear of rejection, the fear you’re going to lose everything you love, the fear of telling the truth. Is Trevor going to call off our friendship now that he knows how I feel?
Trevor’s looking at me like I’m crazy, but miraculously his face softens, and he puts his arm around my shoulders. His muscles tighten around me, and he forces my head so it rests on his shoulder. “Hey, Sym, don’t cry. Look, I’m flattered that you would want to take such a big step with me. You’re my best friend and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” He hesitates for a second. “But there’s absolutely no way I’m taking your virginity.”
“Why not?” I question.
“Because I don’t do virgins. There’s just too much responsibility and pressure involved with them.” He runs his hand through my hair and sighs. “You know I love you, Sym, but it’s more like the over-protective big brother thing, not romantic.”
I pull out of his arms and glare at him. “So you’re saying there’s no way you would ever sleep with me?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know maybe if you weren’t a virgin I would consider it. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before. It’s just . . . well . . . I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship by fucking it up with sex. I know you like me. I know if I sleep with you, it will just make you want a relationship, and that’s something I can’t give you. You mean way too much to me. If our relationship failed, then so could our friendship. If I knew you were mature enough to handle a strictly physical relationship without getting all clingy, I wouldn’t even question it, but we both know you’re not capable of that.
“So you’re saying I’m incapable of handling a physical relationship with you or anyone else without getting feelings involved?”
He cups my face and smiles. “You’re too nice, Symone. Girls like you just can’t handle casual sex.”
“You know what Trevor? Fuck off!” I pull the handle on the car door and wobble out onto the sidewalk.
“Oh come on, Symone, don’t be like this.” I hear him get out of the car, but I’m already half way into the building before he can catch up to me. He gets to the door just as it slams shut in his face. Luckily, without a key there’s no way he can follow me.
He pounds on the window. “Symone,” He screams through the glass.
Penny, my resident advisor, is coming down the stairs just as I start up them. She sees Trevor by the door and smiles. “Trouble with the boyfriend?” she asks laughing.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumble, continuing to walk up the stairs.
“Too bad. He’s hot.”
I look over my shoulder and lock eyes with Trevor one last time. “I know,” I reply to her before finishing my ascent to my room.
If Trevor Donahue thinks I’m too good for a casual relationship, then he has another thing coming. I’m going to prove to him just how casual I can be. It’s time for Symone Esquire to stop holding on to her virginity and open her legs to a whole new world of possibilities. That’s right, Trevor, hold on to your zipper, because the next time you see me I will be hymen -free and a master of the naked tango!
V. Kelly
Author Bio
V. Kelly grew up in Reno, Nevada. She now lives in Oklahoma where her family takes up most of her time. Not to mention a full-time job, she writes in her spare time to break of the insanity of it all. She has always had the writing bug, but it wasn't until July 2, 2015, that her dream of becoming a published author finally came true. Writer of Contemporary romance, Erotic romantic comedies and everything in between, V's main focus is making people laugh.
If you love to laugh, smile, and have a good time while reading a book, then V. Kelly is for you!
Author Links
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/vkellyauthor/
Website: [email protected]
Amazon: V. Kelly Auth
or
Twitter: @VKellyAuthor
Lost In Silence
By Tracie Douglas
Synopsis:
ALICE IS LOST
Lost from her family, friends and the life she once lived. Alice Michaelson is held captive in the dark silence that had become a nightmare. Until one night when the door to her prison is left unlocked and she flees.
HUDSON FINDS HER
Living job to job, haunted by his own set of demons, Hudson Rivers finds himself disarmed by a single glance and he vows to protect the shell of a woman hiding in his closet. But protecting her means keeping her close and that threatens the emotionless life he’s been careful to create for himself.
They both fight their growing connection...
Will they find themselves lost into a world of silence, afraid to let one another in?
Or will they submit to the power of fate and all that it throws at them?
***WARNING***
This book is intended for readers 18 and older. This book contains dark themes, explicit language and sexual content that may not be suitable for some readers.
Read Lost in Silence here:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1RRm7Wl
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1V5xpnI
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1S2a6LX
Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1Sulf9X
Prologue
Somewhere in the world
Every night before I fall I sleep, I make a wish to never wake up. Death for me would be a celebration. No matter how much I beg for it, cry for it, or pray for it, I wake every morning.
Disappointed to wake yet again this particular morning, I rub the sleep from my eyes, preparing myself, because he’ll be here soon and I need to be ready.
Last night, he locked me in the guest room. While any normal person would be grateful to sleep in a bed, I wasn’t. I’d rather sleep in my closet with my threadbare blankets than in that bed. Which is why I slept on the floor next to the bed. I was playing with fire, I knew, because he could come in to check on me at any moment. Luckily, I’m a light sleeper. The key in the lock would wake me instantly, giving me just enough time to climb into the bed.
I stretch my body, feeling the heavy chain anklet weighing me down, the other end attached to the bed, reminding me of my prisoner status. I glance at the clock on the wall, willing time to slow, but it never does. I don’t have much of it, so I roll over, push myself up off the floor, and walk to the bathroom. My chain drags behind me, giving me enough slack to use the facilities.
I turn on the shower and step into the icy water. Since I’m not allowed the luxury of hot showers, I’ve grown used to the cold. At first, it was a form of torture and power; now, it’s just a routine. Using the bar of soap he provides, I lather my body and hair, gagging on the smell of baby powder. It used to be my favorite scent, and since he was a master of manipulation, he used it against me. The scent sickens me and has become a signal, telling my body to prepare for what is to come. I shiver, the anticipation overwhelming. No matter how many times I prepare myself exactly like this, it never gets any easier.
I quickly rinse the soap away, pushing away my lingering fears, and shut the shower off. I pat my body down with the scratchy towel hanging nearby. I comb my hair until it is slightly damp and return the towel to its designated hook. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I walk toward the wardrobe. I’m allowed clothing only on days like this. Entertaining days. Although I wouldn’t call these outfits clothing. I feel more naked wearing these garments than as if I were actually walking around in the nude. I reach for the long, white, gauzy scrap and pull it out over my head, adjusting it as it falls down the length of my body.
Glancing at the clock again, I see I have finished with a few minutes to spare. The room is already in perfect order, something I made sure of before falling asleep late last night. I sit down and arrange myself, per his instructions, in the chair special-ordered for my guest. It is an oversized, overstuffed, ornate throne. Apparently, my guest has a thing for fairy tale princesses. A new one for the book of characters I’ve been instructed to play. Too bad fairy tales aren’t real.
Today, I was a princess, frozen like a statue, a masterpiece, waiting for my Prince Charming.
It isn’t long before I hear the key slide into the lock. As usual, he’s on time. The door quickly opens and closes as the two men step into the room. One of the men standing in front of me is my prison warden, the man I hate more than death itself. The other man is my Prince Charming. Both send chills down my spine and leave a sour taste in my mouth.
“Prince Valiant, there are your quarters,” my warden’s words break the silence, his cold eyes resting on me. They rake my body and the room, checking for any discrepancies. He’d use any reason to punish me, not that he needs one. “Honored Sir, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Aleta, Queen of the Misty Isles.”
My blood runs cold as a wave of shock rolls through me. I was to play a role from a childhood story, and not just any story, one of my favorites. My eyes meet his, something they rarely do because of the repercussions. A sickening smile spreads across his face as the recognition of my shock seeps into his eyes. This was planned, another manipulation of something I loved to further torture me.
Prince Valiant steps closer to me, a dark mask covering his face, obscuring his identity. I’m not surprised, since very few of my guests ever take it off or go without one. Likely, he would remove it once I’m blindfolded. I’ve grown used to being blindfolded. These men get off on the unknown, and if I can’t see what’s coming, my reaction to the physicality of it becomes more intense and real.
“My lady,” he bows deeply, and truthfully, I find his ability to bend in such a way shocking. He’s not a small man. In fact, I’m a little worried about being crushed underneath his portly shape, although he isn’t the biggest man I’ve been with. His hidden face looks up at me from the floor, waiting for me to allow him to stand. I hesitate, once again catching the warden’s eyes. They glitter with warning, reminding me of my instructions. I am Valiant’s Queen for the next twenty-four hours. I’m his to do whatever he wants with. I’m expected to give myself freely to him. No objections and no exceptions.
Holding his gaze, I flick my hand, allowing Valiant to stand. He does quickly, but his breathing is now labored and a sheen of sweat covers what skin I can see beneath his period-style clothing. He is definitely dressed for his role.
“Have I upset you, my lady?” Valiant asks, taking a step closer. I cast my eyes down, away from both of them. I couldn’t answer Valiant; not that I was instructed to be silent, but because I no longer had the ability to do so.
“She doesn’t speak,” my captor tells him. Valiant turns, his mouth open to object, but he’s cut off. “The Queen suffered a terrible accident some years back, destroying her vocal chords.”
He lies, as usual. There wasn’t an accident. My inability to form words was caused from something much deeper, much darker. A moment in time I would never forget.
“How unfortunate,” I can feel Valiant’s eyes on me as his body shifts toward me, resonating curiosity. I’m easy prey for him now. “Does she communicate in other ways?”
“She has no voice,” he explains, but now he sounds annoyed with Valiant. “She won’t need to communicate.”
“What if I want to do something she doesn’t like?”
“She can’t object without a voice, can she?”
Valiant touches under my chin and lifts my face. His chubby fingers feel clammy against my skin, and I know his whole body is in a sweat. The sour smell of him pierces through his expensive cologne, causing my stomach to turn, and my thoughts once again return to the worry of being trapped underneath him. My eyes meet his, and I notice the excited twinkle blinking at me from their depths. He likes this new development.
“Does she scream?”
“She does not.” My captor’s words are meant to be a reminder for me, but they are unnecessary. I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to
, making me good at the silent game.
“Excellent,” Valiant murmurs and releases my chin. His hand slips down the length of my neck, under the sheer gown and over the swell of my breast, his fingers clamping onto my nipple. He tests this new bit of information by pinching hard. I close my eyes tightly, trying to block out the white-hot pain radiating from the sensitive nub. I hate nipple play, more so because men always test my reactions this exact way. Valiant gasps at my lack of reaction, and a smile plays on his face at once. He turns giddy and hastily begins unbuttoning his jacket, his pasty hands struggling with the buttons. “I’d like to get started now.”
My captor nods before quietly opening and closing the door. The only sound I hear is the key slipping back into the lock. I know what my behavior means to him, and I will comply, knowing he is watching, recording my time with Valiant. He always does. It is a sick fetish of his, watching these men do things to me they would never do to a free woman. There are times he makes me watch the sessions with him, typically the most brutal of them. He studies my reactions as I watch and remember each strike against my skin. He finds it fascinating.
Valiant circles me, bringing my attention back to him. His shirt hangs open now, revealing more of his pasty skin, making his scent much stronger. He watches me with malice in his eyes as his hand reaches out to slap me hard across the face. He groans in pleasure at the sight of his red handprint on my pale skin.
“You must forgive me, Aleta.” His voice is ragged as he licks his lips. “I’m afraid this new development has caused a change in my plans.”
His confession isn’t surprising in the least. There is something about a voiceless woman many men find intriguing. I lift my eyes, meeting his with strength, daring him to test me. The gleam staring back at me says it all. The next twenty-four hours are going to be hell, and he is going to enjoy every minute of it.
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