Silence Reveals Hidden Answers’ by Michael Anderson novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

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Harvey Prescott.

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Before I even step into the shower, I can hear the water running. I tear my shirt off, leaving nothing but skin and ink, and push open the glass door.

Jennifer is waiting, already looking at me the second I enter, as if she’d been counting the seconds. The water must be warm cause her usually pale body is flushed all the way to the tits. And I mean to the tips. Her nipples are hard, pebbled peaks against her breasts, rising and falling with her heavy breaths as the shower water rolls down from both perky, shiny breasts to her belly.

And to…

Never in my life have I forgotten to breathe before. I forget to breathe. It’s a first.

She pushes a hand through her wet hair, sending more streams of water coursing over her chest. Her lips part on a shaky inhale, like she’s fighting for air just as hard as I am.

That’s it. I cross the distance in one stride, the spray hitting my chest as I reach her. My hands, steady when holding a gun, are shaking as I grip her petite waist. I pull her to me roughly, her slick breasts crushing against my chest, and my mouth finds hers.

I cross the distance, and the shower blasts over my chest at the same time. My hands are shaky for some fucking reason as I put them on the handles of her petite waist and bring her roughly to my chest, so her breasts press against mine. I start kissing her mouth, tasting the shower water on her skin, biting her lips, eating at her mouth, her chin-

I fumble with my trousers, never breaking the kiss, kicking them aside. The sounds of our mouths are lost in the steam and the rush of water as my hands hug the whole of her slippery soaped body. In the next second, I stop kissing her and turn her roughly against the bathroom tiles where the spray of water is still falling.

One hand is on the wall, I put mine over it and begin to kiss her neck, the slope of her beautiful back before I feast my eyes on her ass. Gorgeous. I let one hand go and dig into its largeness, slapping her there.

She gasps and looks back at me over her shoulder with desirous eyes.

Her buttocks are with generous hips that a man can hold and practically die in. It’s perfect for thrusting. I take off my drawls and throw them every which way away from me. I put my hands on Jennifer’s waist and make her arch curvier before smacking her ass again, earning a whimper that goes straight to my core,

Gently at first, I press my swollen head of my cock against her entrance and her back melts like a candle under heat. Her honey pot knows me now-it does not make me search. I find her breasts against the tile and I hold them tight as I plunge.

Inch by glorious inch, until I’m buried to the hilt, my front pressed against her back, my hands groping her

breasts.

“Grrrgh, a!” I snarl, throwing my head back. I begin to thrust, whimpering like I’m not a man like I’m not the

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Chapter 42

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one in control and like I don’t have a gunshot wound somewhere in my leg. The sound of me thrusting in and out is slick, wet.

Jennifer gasps and moans moving in time with mine, driven by the force of my hips against hers.

“Harvey…mmmh, ah there!” she cries out as I shift my angle. I start bringing her hips back to meet my cock instead of driving in all myself.

I pull her away from the wall then, lifting her effortlessly. She wraps her legs around my waist, impaling herself on me again as I press her back against the tiles. I need to see her face.

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips bitten red. Water or maybe tears of pleasure tracks down her face. Her breasts are bouncing in my face as I hold her up with one hand cause she’s light. I lower my mouth to one and pound her at the same time like I’m making butter.

“Harvey!” Her legs tighten and her nails dig into my shoulders.

I swallow her cry with another fierce kiss. I don’t let up. I don’t pull away. I give her everything. My mouth movrs from her lips to her breasts, worshipping her body until she lets out that sound… the one I’ve mastered by now that tells me she’s tipping over the edge.

When I follow her, my own release doesn’t just hit me; it pulverizes us both, leaving me wrecked and welded to her in the steaming water.

I remember, vaguely, that she originally came in here to get clean. So I give her a thorough bath.

*****

By the time I come back to the bedroom with the bag of warm fast food Elio left, Jennifer is wrapped in a plush robe and her hair is twisted in a towel. She looks up from her phone and her pouty mouth softens when she sees the food.

“You still like milkshakes?”

She giggles, a hand going to the towel on her head. “Of course. What did you get yourself? Some lemon cocktail, like you always have?”

“Elio knows to get me lemon soda already. I say, setting the feast out on the bed over the board. Her eyes go wide as she peers into the boxes.

“Oh, chicken!?”

“Jen loves chicken, doesn’t she?” I say, the nickname feels natural on my tongue.

“You do know me well, baby.” I watch her take a sip of the milkshake and her eyes brightens before she digs into a chicken strip. I smile as I watch her eat from the tray. But it’s the ‘baby’ she called me that really does it right in the center of my chest. Jen’s baby. Hmm. I like the sound of that.

I grab a clean shirt from my bag and change. When I drop the bright pink towel she’d lent me from my waist, she gasps as if she’s seeing me for the first time. As if I hadn’t just been inside her minutes ago. What’s she being shy about now? I shrug and pull on my boxers, then my pants.

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When I turn back, Jennifer is pretending to be deeply interested in a piece of chicken that hasn’t been touched.

“You look like you work out.”

“I do.” I sit on the edge of the bed, and she bites her lip.

“I like that… that style,” she adds, a blush creeping up her neck.

“Noted. I’ll do it again. Give me a call next time you’re about to shower.”

She lets out a soft, flustered laugh and hands me a piece of chicken. “Can I ask… where you learned it?”

The question makes my face go still for a second. I know it does. I can feel the chill settle over my features.

“I mean…” she backtracks quickly, “I’m not trying to know about your past relationships. I’m sure you’ve had some. I mean, of course you have. You thought I was with Baxter, years passed, you moved on, probably, so…” She’s doing that nervous rambling thing, asking for something she obviously wants to know but is scared to hear.

“I’m not trying to know the girls from your past as long as I don’t know them in real LIFE. You know what? Forget about it. Forget I asked. It’s stupid.”

“Jennifer-”

“No. No. Forget I asked, Harvey.” She shakes her head, shutting it down.

I just nod, letting her have the escape route. It’s good for me. I don’t exactly want to mention Jenna either.

“Have you seen the news? Apparently, the wedding went on. Baxter and Nisha did get married.”

“Of course.” I take a swig of my soda. “Francis Prescott would burn the city down to save his own image. He hates lies more than he hates failure.”

“How’s it gonna be when they get back?” she asks, picking at her fries.

“Family meeting. Definitely.” I lean back against her mountain of pillows. “Lots of shouting. Veiled threats. The usual Prescott family therapy session.”

“Hmm.”

“And then,” I continue, because she should know the full spectacle, “Baxter is gonna be miserable. He’ll be drinking, clubbing, making a scene…straight up pathetic. He married Nisha to look responsible, to prove he’s ‘settled’ so he could inherit when the old man retires.”

I slap my knee with a fucking laugh because I’in getting to the diabolical part.

“Problem is, Francis told me a while back he’s not retiring until the day he dies. And if you know anything about the Prescott men, they live a long, stubborn time.”

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