Hunting Silver

Hunting Silver

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Summary

I am restructuring the summary of this novel, because I decided to take it in another direction. Thank You, ~LMWrites

Summary

I am restructuring the summary of this novel, because I decided to take it in another direction.
Thank You,
~LMWrites

Chapter1 (v.1) - One: Silver

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 21, 2018

Reads: 440

Comments: 3

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 21, 2018

A A A

A A A

SILVER

I’ve never been a believer of serendipity, but the story of my and Walker’s relationship can only be based on that concept. Flash back to Henderson North Carolina, two years ago, where it all began. I interned at the small southern town’s library, Bishop Library, where I shelved books and worked closely with the library manager to learn the Dewey Decimal System. I had just graduated Summa Cum Laude from NYU and racked up large amounts of debt, so this prohibited me from remaining in the state I called my new home. Overall, I was the broke bookworm who was forced to move back home with her mother indefinitely in a quick, one stop town people only drove through. That same bookworm was down on her luck this one faithful evening at Bishop Library, nothing went right this day and she ruined her favorite blue blouse with permanent oil stains from her sub sandwich earlier. On top of that, I was forced to work the circulation desk, or check out point, in the center of the entire library. I remember this day as if it were yesterday, because I considered it one of the best in my life. 

I sat at the desk alone, initially, when Constance Murphy decided to join me. Constance was considered the most annoying of the library staff. She was in her mid-forties and about as thin as a rail, but that didn’t make her annoying. She was notorious for taking pity on people and subtly, but brutally, recommending the next best things for them to conform to her standards of beauty. She was also one of those dreaded southern black cougars who attended her Baptist church religiously and could hurt the best of them with her bible crew and gossip.

It just so happened that our schedules crossed this day and that she was best friends with my mother.

I was reading one of my favorite romance novels when I felt that familiar, calloused, touch on my wrist.

“Hey, Ms. Silver. You married yet?” Constance asked, syrupy sweet in her southern dialect.

I choked down the retort I’d wanted to fire and pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, glancing at her. “No, ma’am. Just graduated college a month ago, though.”

“Oh. Bless your heart. I got something for you.”

“Oh?” I asked, feigning interest.

She dug around her purse for a few minutes before pulling out a bottle of vinegar. “This is for you.”

I eyed the bottle for some time before asking. “Constance, what is this? You want me to cook you some chitterlings or something?”

She laughed good naturedly while she clapped her aged hands together. “No, baby. It’s this new diet my daughter’s trying. It works! She adds three parts of this mother vinegar, one part lemon juice, and a dash of cayenne pepper to her water. I swear ‘fore everything my baby dropped a good fifteen pounds within the last week. It’ll clean that stain off your blouse, too.”

I could taste the blood in my mouth from biting my tongue to keep from cursing her. “Thank you, Constance. I’ll give it a try.”

She stared me down with her waxy smile. “Okay, well take it. You know it isn’t ladylike to keep sporting this baby weight. I think if you lost a good…twenty pounds you’ll be decent. Right?”

I felt the sting of her words more than anything, and I cleared my throat to keep the tears at bay. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much.”

She Paris-kissed my cheeks. “Oh, baby, you’re oh so welcome. I’m going to tell your momma all about this when I get home. In Jesus name, amen. Just think of me as one of His prophets showing you the way to happiness and marriage.”

My eyes were glued to my book. “Yes, I will. Thanks.”

“I used to be fat, too, you know. Until God showed me the way through fasting and Jenny Craig.” She assessed my body haughtily. “Jenny wouldn’t work for you, though. And we got to do something to brighten that skin up. I’ve heard of fine chocolate, but baby, you’ve got to go a little brighter to get a man down here. Just like I did.”

“Well, I happen to like my women dark.” Came a deep voice.

We looked up to see a tall, chocolate, man in an expensive suit. His shoulders were huge and his smile was predatory. He stared only at me, it seemed, or through me.

“Oh,” Constance said, flushing from embarrassment. “Hello, sir. I don’t think I recognize you. Are you new here?”

“Yes.” He answered instantly, but still stared only at me. “I moved here from Philadelphia three weeks ago.”

“Nice to meet you.” I whispered timidly. This man took my breath away. I found myself finger-detangling the curls in my shoulder length wig.

Constance still found a way to slither into the conversation. “Philly, huh? Why, I got a few cousins up there. You need help finding a book or anything, I’m right here.” She extended her hand to him and offered her usual coy grin. “Oh, and I’m Constance.”

The man reached over to grab my dark chubby hand in his. When he brought it to his lips I thought I’d die. “Thank you, Constance. But I think I have everything I need right here. What’s your name, beautiful?”

I opened my mouth but no sound came out.

“She’s Silver. Silver Cozart.” Constance spoke.

The man’s smile widened and his gaze finally turned to Constance. His eyes penetrated her as well, though there was a change in the glint there. “Constance, I do not entertain married women. I have an eye for noticing what others overlook, and I noticed you slide your wedding ring into your bag there.” His head nodded to the canvas bag on the floor. She kicked it further under the desk. He relentlessly assessed her. “Also, I can appreciate a warm, generous woman. One who also has curves and something for me to grab. Maybe, just maybe, if you put on an extra twenty pounds…you’ll be decent.”

My mouth fell open from the shock. That bitch got served.

Constance looked equally astonished by this, her body was writhing visibly in anger. “You…brute! That’s no way to talk to a southern belle.”

He looked at me again. “Well then, I’m glad you see the error in your words. I think Ms. Cozart will be checking me out, ma’am.”

Constance glared at me. “I knew you was the devil.” She grabbed her bags and stomped away.

“Silver Cozart, is it?” He asked once she was gone.

I gulped, looking everywhere else but at him. “Um, yes. The library will be closing soon, sir—”

“Walker.” He interrupted, reclaiming my hand. “Walker De Silva.”

I snatched my hand away. “Sir, Walker, I think it’s best you get these books and leave.” I held my hand out for the three books he held.

He smirked. “Yes, ma’am. Yes, Silver.”

I swear my pussy felt the vibrations of his voice when he said my name, because it creamed instantly. My hands shook as he handed me the books. This was the most attention ever I’d received from a male. Was this a cruel joke or something?

“I hear the mild accent in your voice. Were you born outside the US?” I asked, lamely attempting small talk to avert his attention from my now-swollen nipples.

Si.” He said. “I am originally from the Dominican Republic.”

“Ah, cool.” I said, rather lame again. Once I checked all his books out of the system I handed them back. Instead, he held my hand again. “Mr. De Silva, please—”

He kissed my inner arm and trailed down to the palms of my hands. The kisses were slow heat building that ignited the fire within me. I wanted him so badly, but was too afraid to say anything.

Buenos dias.” He said before walking proudly out the door.  I went straight home after my shift and fingered my pussy until I screamed, all with him in mind. I prayed to God that he’d walk back into that library again. I waited several weeks, but he never did. It was as if he disappeared completely.

Remember I talked about the whole serendipity thing? Well, this is where it gets weird.

My mother, Pam, busted into my room with a stack of newspapers. An entire month had passed since that day, and she still got on me each day about my job. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her, the daughter of the famous Cozart family who started one of the most prosperous textile mills in North Carolina. It was not as affluent as it sounded, the company went bankrupt soon after it was off the ground and left the family in loads of debt even my mother couldn’t avoid.

“Silver, look at these listings! There are at least five or six Help Wanted ads for domestic work near Oxford.” She flopped on my bed beside me.

I closed the latest Latisha Cohen novel, my favorite romance author, and faced her. “Mom, I already told you, I like my job.”

She grunted. “That dumb little internship of yours. The only reason I let you work there is because of my extra set of eyes, Constance. Come on baby, get real.”

I sighed exhaustedly. “Mom, library science is my dream. I know I’m not the factory working son you always wanted.”

She waved my words away. “Oh hush, this is a new age now. You can still work in the factory.”

“Mom, that’s not the point. I didn’t bust my butt for that degree to do factory work.”

“You’re right. The point is paying where you stay. And these domestic jobs are the next best thing in this town. Now, here.” She shoved the papers in my hands, forcing my novel to hit the floor.

“All right, all right.” I caved. “But you set it up, I don’t want to look through those slave jobs.”

 

The next day, on a Wednesday, my mother burst into my room yet again. It was eight in the morning and my only day off from the library. I wanted to rest so desperately.

“Mom! Leave me alone." I groaned. "Why are you in here?”

She was trembling with excitement and singing “the lord’s praises” in her morning grog voice. Without regard, she flicked the lights on and began rummaging through my closet.

“Mom!” I screamed.

“Call yourself Kizzy Kinte, ‘cause you’re going to work today. I got you a housekeeping gig on a big estate near the edge of town. Real nice place, too.” Pam Cozart fished out a long black dress and rubber sole shoes. Yes, these items were in my closet.

“Get up, baby! Today is your official first day.” She sang and pretended to dance with the dress.

I sat up and glared at her.  “Mom, get out. Please.”

She ignored me, and continued to dance. “Silver gonna’ make that money!”

“Mom, is there even an interview process? What the hell, I’m just expected to start today?” I complained.

“Yep! It was an immediate hiring.” She sang.

My patience was wearing thin and I didn’t trust my next actions. “Okay, okay. I’ll go. Will you please leave?”

“Yes ma’am!” She chirped and left.

 

An hour later and several other outfit tries, I stood on the front steps of the pristine mansion. An overly pompous mansion, in my opinion. It was about fifteen minutes from town on a very secluded piece of land. The front of the house had immaculate carvings in stucco with two large lions that blockaded the front porch. It was a hundred degrees in the North Carolina heat and so I opted to wear my natural hair this day, pulled into a large bun atop my head. I wore a black shirt and gym shorts, hardhearted if this stood between me getting the job or not. I desired not to be there. I did not belong there. I pushed my glasses on my nose and readied myself to ring the bell. I stood there a solid ten minutes before I gave up and walked to my car. I almost started the engine before a man ran out to stop me.

I rolled my eyes. Damn it. I figure no one was home and that I’d had a clean break. Swallowing my pride, I climbed out of my small Toyota to greet my future employer.

My heart and jaw dropped when I saw who it really was.

Walker De Silva, AKA Mr. Sexy from the library.

My body was frozen but on fire at the same time, which was not to be attributed to the ninety-degree heat.

He jogged the rest of the way to greet me, and I suppose the glare from the sun limited his view from afar. Once he stood in front of me, he uttered a slew of apologies.

Lo siento mucho.” He was straight out of breath and kneeling to catch another one. “I was in the study when you rang, could barely hear you over the music, too. Another reason I need a maid.”

I bit my lip. “Um, no sweat. It’s all good.”

He seemed to freeze as well. “That voice. I knew it!” Without warning or any regard for my personal space and preferences, he straightened his back, embraced me, and stuck his tongue down my throat.

“Silver Cozart.” His eyes were closed as he spoke, and I had zero will power other than to return his kisses. “I don’t even need to see you to know. My darling, fate has treated us well.”

He leaned in to kiss me again, but I shoved him away. “No, Walker, you barely know me. I’m not your darling and fate does not exist!”

The jerk. I turned to walk back to my car. I couldn’t take the temptation; the temptation to slap was just as strong as the urge to rip his clothes off. This was all the more reason I needed to distance myself. I was a good girl. Good girls didn’t do things like this. If Mom discovered I’d even kissed a guy she’d kill me.

He grabbed my wrist to stop me, succeeding. “No, querida, please indulge me. At least for a little while?”

I fought against his hold to no avail. “Get off me. I am dying in this heat.”

With little effort, he pulled me against his chest again. I felt all my weight slam into his hard frame just then. I was immediately impressed by how unfazed he was by it. He grabbed my ass and slapped it, to my surprise, and the sound echoed through the large plantation.

I was speechless.

“Come with me, no?” He insisted and guided me to the house anyway. “We have an interviewing process after all. Don’t want me to write you a bad review, eh?”

I frowned at him as we walked. “Is that blackmail?”

His smile was dangerous. “Yes.”

Once we entered the house he guided me quickly to the Victorian sofa. The house was large and… empty.

I was thoroughly shocked by this, as there was very little to clean. I sat down on the couch and moaned unexpectedly. The air conditioning in the joint and the comfortability of this sofa had me doing mental backflips.

Walker sat in the lone chair across from me, his leg crossed over the other. I sat that way, moaning for a good three minutes before looking over at him. “Are you going to interview me, or what?” I spat.

He smirked. “Yes, but not in the conventional way, querida.

I withdrew, slightly fretful. “Okay…shoot.”

“It will be in the form of a game, how I will test your aptitude for this position.” He said, standing up.

I gulped as my eyes drank him in. The finely tailored suit, his obviously chiseled body, and even the sweat that dripped down his face turned me on. I licked my lips, wanting a taste. A bite. A swallow…

“The name of the game will be Five Questions. I’m going to ask you questions about yourself, and if one is yes, I step towards you. But if it is no, I step back. By the end of the game, if I am not standing in front of you then you can leave and be done with me. Deal?

I was unsure about the actual stipulations of this game, but I decided to play along. What was the point of this? “Deal.” I said.

Si. You are originally from Henderson, yes?” He asked gently.

“Yes.” I answered. He stepped forward.

“You have your bachelor’s degree?”

I was getting nervous. “Yes, sir.”

“Refer to me as Walker in this house. You may also call me Daddy.” He said as he stepped forward.

I nodded. I was so flustered and horny I thought I’d pop out of my skin.

Bueno. You have not stopped thinking of me since you first saw me. Yes?”

My lip trembled so bad I couldn’t speak. Was I under a spell or something? I nodded.

He stepped forward, and I could reach out and touch him by now. Oh, fuck.

His breathing grew heavier with his next question. “You are a virgin?”

I blushed, ashamed and insanely embarrassed. I shook my head. “No.”

He smiled wide, slyly. “But you are. You were reading Latisha Cohen’s A Virgin in Heat when I first saw you.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, shame roiling through me. I looked away. “Yes, fine, I’m a fucking virgin!”

He took two steps forward.

“Hey!” I interjected. “Don’t cheat.”

“Ah, but I am not cheating. The penalty for lying is an extra step forward. Forgot to mention that.”  He stood flush in front of me, his erection damn near smacking my forehead.

I leaned back, panting. “I guess you’re all out of questions.”

“Oh, on the contrary, querida.” He said, taking his jacket off and chucking it through the room. He looked down at me. “Final question. You want me to touch you. Right here until you scream for mercy, no?

I couldn’t take it anymore. My mouth was dry with desire and I just threw all my morals away. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” I groaned.

He kneeled and parted my thighs. After pulling my shorts off, he did the unthinkable.

He kissed, sucked, and slurped at my juicy core until I screamed his name and a few other things.

I, Silver Cozart, lost my virginity that lazy afternoon, and gained so much more in return. If only I knew what I was in store for.

 


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