GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (29 page)

…One week later

“T
his is some
bullshit, Silver! You’re cheatin’!” He cursed so loud, she was certain his damn windows would burst.

“No, I’m not. What a sore loser, I swear! You suck at this game. Accept it.” She scooted towards the edge of his couch, gripping the Sony PlayStation game controller and console she’d brought over. The man had asked her what she wanted to do. Her answer: Whip his ass at Bloodborne. The silly rabbit accepted her challenge, not realizing he’d been set up; she was a damn pro, and though she had an unfair advantage, she enjoyed beating his cocky ass down into the ground. Besides… revenge and victory were sweet.

After dinner the previous evening, he made her go down to a local drinking hole she’d never seen. The place was grimy and full of odd people, most of whom were intoxicated and drowning in cheap beverages. Nevertheless, she’d made the foolhardy mistake of playing a shots game with him, only to have to be picked up in his arms and carried out like some victim of a vicious attack. She was so damn embarrassed, but had lost the use of her legs.

Having most of her wits about her, she’d protested as he carefully deposited her in his truck. He drove her home, took her keys out, and all she recalled was him placing her down in her bed, pulling the covers over her, bringing the trashcan close to the side, then kissing the top of her forehead before disappearing out the door. When he called her the following morning wanting to know what she wanted to get into, she immediately brought up the idea of a marathon of various games. He said he didn’t have a system, so of course she volunteered her own.

Zenith was undoubtedly convinced they’d have a good time, but she was hell-bent on ruining his entire day—by winning over and over and over again at whatever they played! Sure, it wasn’t his fault she’d gotten sloppy drunk while he stood cool and unnerved, clearly able to hold his liquor, but it
was
his fault that he’d tricked her and was gulping down water the entire time under the guise of vodka. His mission, he’d admitted, had been to force her to ‘get silly’ and lose another brick in her cold, stone wall, as he liked to call it. Apparently, she made a true fool of herself. She’d sung loudly off key, and lifted her shirt in the truck and showed him her breasts. He let her keep it up…

She’d recited some of the most disgusting, yet witty jokes he’d ever heard, which he was happy to convey now that she was sober, too. Her head had been throbbing all morning, the kind of pulsating that made her think the bastard had climbed between the walls of her skull, set up shop, and beat the living daylights out of his cymbals and hi-hat. The embarrassment was too much to bear… and now, revenge was being sweetly served with a whopping side of whoop ass.

Out of the corner of her eye she could almost see the man clearly in her view. His thick, black brows were all bunched up, his lips in a hideous snarl, and his eyes intense as he stared at his television screen. His shoulders were hunched high, back arched forward and his long, jet black hair flowed all the way down his back in its semi-wet form. He’d just gotten out of the shower when she arrived, and he’d answered the damn door with no goddamn shirt on…

She’d tried to pretend to not notice… but from the smirk on his face, he’d spotted the hunger in her eyes at the sight of him, too. After telling her to make herself comfortable, he told her where the restroom was and explained, with a twinkle in his eye, that his Paw had gone to the Senior Center.

Disappearing for a few minutes down a hall, he came back with a couple of bottles of water and a dark red tank top with the words “Everything Is Gravy” printed across the front. He handed her the water and then she got to setting up the system. He complemented her a bit as she explained what she was doing, and she was certain he only pretended to understand. Nevertheless, she appreciated his attentive ear, but did not deviate from her dastardly plans to take the son of a bitch down a peg or two.

“Ah ha!” he screamed out with joy, shaking his fist in the air. “Got yo’ ass!”

“None of that matters. You are no closer to returning to the Waking World… and you only killed two; five more are coming. You don’t have enough ammo… Good luck with that.”

She could almost feel the steam rising off of the man, but she continued to stare straight ahead, her fingers moving rapidly to make Hunter, the main player, jump around and bludgeon a gruesome beast to death.

“Silver?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re too good at this… You have to do something about this.”

She gave him the side-eye. “What are you talking about?”

“The other night you said you wanted to create a video game, to run the entire show. You wanted to go through the entire production process from start to finish.”

“Yeah… I do.”

“Then do it. I’m not saying I’m the best at these sorts of things; obviously I’m not, but you are exceptional and you have the background knowledge to really do this. You understand the consumer point of view, you know? And you understand how to get it done. You could totally pull this off. I’m going to need you to make that move.”

“My boss isn’t listening.”

“
Make
her listen. Stop asking for an opportunity. Just
take
it.” He shot her a stern look, then turned back towards the game “I gotta piss,” Zenith announced nonchalantly after a few seconds, and stood.

“I do, too.” She paused the game and got to her feet, too.

“Where are you going?” Even in his bare feet, he made her feel like some tiny child. She wasn’t short; she grabbed her 5′9 height with pride, but Zenith was 6′3, with wide shoulders, a long neck, and a well-defined jawline. The bridge of his nose was long with slightly flared nostrils. His lips were full, especially the lower one, perfectly shaped, soft and fleshed out with a rather deep cupid’s bow. The formidable intensity in his heavy hooded, black, glossy eyes made him at times appear bored to death when turning his head. The whites of his eyes were so startling, they almost looked unreal, and his hair, so dark and thick against his light brown skin, made a sexy, dramatic contrast.

“I asked where you were going,” he repeated, causing her to realize she was staring directly at his crotch—at the goddamn bulge in his jeans the size of a fucking grown man’s fist… and she doubted it was a pair of socks. Startled, she looked up into his eyes.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

“But I said I was going before you.”

“Ladies first…”

She pushed against him, but he stood firm like some cylinder block. On a hiss, he moved out of her path, mumbling something under his breath.

“Don’t talk back.”

“Don’t listen then.” She paused, looked over her shoulder, and shot him the middle finger. Laughing, he picked up his bottle of water off the table.

There she stood inside of the lavatory in her flimsy white socks… one of which had a hole in the bottom. She hadn’t realized it when she’d put the damn things on. She quickly moved past the temporary distraction of her attire, for something caught her eye.

Seriously?

Cupping her mouth, she stifled a laugh at the sight of the dental partials floating in a clear glass with a faded decal of a topless Hawaiian woman on the front.

Poor Paw… They need to put this away. It could get knocked over or something.

She pulled down her black jogging pants and gray and black striped boy shorts, getting ready to plop her ass down on the seat, then thought better of it. Taking a good look at the thing, she examined it closely. Looked clean enough…

Not trusting her own judgment, she tore off several sheets of toilet paper and layered the thing, then took her position. The fluffy, baby blue toilet matt felt good under her toes. Moving her feet back and forth, she cupped her chin and moved the shower curtain in the small enclosure slightly back, taking a look at the tub.

It’s relatively clean… Hmmm, good for him.

Leaning forward, a stack of some papers atop a stand caught her eye. The cluttered mess was turned a million ways in a jumble of disorganized, glossy pages. She reached out, grabbed the top sheets, and realized it was an old magazine that was falling apart… and then, her lips curved in a devilish smile.

So this is your reading material, huh, Zenith?!

Right there in plain view was an old, ratty copy of the pornographic magazine, ‘Black Tail.’ She flipped through the damn thing, careful not to damage the pages any further.

“You like black women with big asses, I see…” she said under her breath, noticing the women with rather rounded rears seemed to have the most wrinkles and creases on the pages, due to ‘increased exposure’, no doubt. “Well, I have a nice ass, but it is no way like these… fake ass women. This shit is degrading.” She kept flipping. “Is this what you think a real woman is, Zenith?” She found herself going from slightly amused to somewhat annoyed. “We’re just something to ogle at it, huh? I don’t have a problem with porn,” she continued to rant to herself like a mad woman.

“But this is just gross. Look at her damn tits! They must weigh 60 lbs. a piece!” She tossed the damn thing down, jumped up from the toilet, and wiped herself in a quick motion. Turning on the faucet, she plunged her hands in the water, still going off inside of her mind about what an animal he was, a pig, a horrible person. Then, she caught her reflection in the mirror and burst out laughing.

“You’re crazy, Silver. You know that?” she said aloud as she dried her hands off. She reached for the knob, turned it, and “Ahhhh! Goddamn it!”

“I was coming to see if you were alright! I heard you raising your voice, like somethin’ was wrong, damn!” He threw up his hands in surrender. She leaned against the wall and gripped her chest, eyes closed.

“Yeah, I’m fine…everything’s fine,” she said, damn near winded.

“What was all that talking about?” he asked, stepping a little closer to her.

“Didn’t you say you had to use the bathroom?” she asked in annoyance.

“I do… but who were you talking to?”

“Jack Frost and Snow White. Now move.” Chuckling, she pushed into his chest, feeling rather frisky, combative and… turned on.

What the hell!

She’d just seen a slew of naked black women. She’d left holding near and dear an image of what promised to be a long dick jammed into his pants. And now, she caught a whiff of his skin. He smelled so damn clean, so damn good, so damn sexy. A damp, at least 26 inch clump of slightly crimped hair batted against her face as he leaned in close to her, pushing his chest into her breasts.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“You like lookin’ at porn magazines?” he asked in a low, husky voice, his lips curved in a most obnoxious smirk.

“That’s none of your business.” She smirked back.

He tossed a glance past her into the open bathroom, apparently noticing the damn magazine on the ground. He gave a faint nod then inched closer to her, if that were possible.

“It’s my business if you’re going through my Paw’s stuff. This isn’t your house. You’re nosy…a snooper.”

“Don’t try to say ‘Black Buns’ is—”

“’Black Tail’… It’s called ‘Black Tail.”

“’Black Buns’, ‘Black Fun’, ‘Black Tail’, ‘Black Mail’, ‘Black Butt Attack and Killa Ass Crack’, ‘Big Black Mack in a Cadillac’—who fucking cares?!”

“Obviously, you do.” He placed his arms on the wall with her in between, boxing her in. His tongue licked around his lips like some slow serpent breaking out of a bag. He winked at her, egging her on.

“It’s not your grandfather’s.”

“It is. If it wasn’t, you think I’m afraid to tell you so? I like ass, too… but magazines really aren’t my thing.”

“You are trying to pin that shit on the old man, knowing he can’t defend himself. Shame on you.” She attempted to cross her arms over her breasts, but the bastard left her no room to reposition herself.

“That innocent old man, as you try to make him out to be, is one of the most ridiculous people you’d ever want to meet when it comes to women, sex, and saying the wrong thing at the wrong damn time. He’s probably always been this way, but you know how kids and old people are; they’ll say whatever they feel like saying. Now, take it or leave it. That is
his
shit.” He motioned toward the open restroom door. “And you were lookin’ at it. That was a choice you made. You’re too old to stand here acting like you’ve never seen another naked woman before.”

“That’s not the point.” She tilted her chin a bit higher and smiled, showing all her teeth.

I wouldn’t mind biting him right now…

“Now you have an attitude. That’s unfair, but I like it… Jealousy looks cute on you.”

“You told me you didn’t like jealous girls…”

“You’re not a girl. You’re a woman.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight as her pussy quaked and a lump caught in her throat. With a groan, he swiftly knocked her knees apart and settled in between her thighs, grinding long and slow against her. Deepening the kiss, he pressed her body up and down the wall. His hair swayed, leaving a cool, slight wetness against her flesh. Trailing his hands down her face, he traced her shoulders, then down her arms. He grabbed her hips with a firm grip, deliberately pushing his dick into the crease of her zone. The hardness of his nature seemed to have no beginning and no end, and the way he looked at her with each forceful thrust sent her somewhere forbidden and drenched in lust.