“Yeah!” he yelled. “I know it was one time, but I’ve been trying to get with you for fuckingyears!”
Ophelia stumbled back in shock. She truly didn’t know he’d been pining after her. She wouldn’t have slept with him if she knew.
“Whatever, you’re a fucking slut,” he slurred, then mumbled “Bitch” under his breath.
“Ben! What the fuck, man?” Etienne placed both of his large hands on Ben’s shoulder, attempting to snap him out of his rage. Jolie, who always loved a good fight, stood next to Etienne, arms crossed.
Ophelia’s head started to spin as anger boiled in her chest, and a hot tear streamed down her face. She pushed Jolie and Etienne aside and looked Ben dead in the eyes.
“Ben, I thought you were a friend, and I was very clear that you have always beenjusta friend. And now I don’t think I can even call you that.”
She grabbed her phone out of his hand, swiftly spun on her heels, and walked out of the bar.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ophelia went home and collapsed into her welcoming bed. She dreamt. Wildly. Fitfully.
She was in the French Quarter alone. It was night, and the fog was thick, like the kind of fog in old Hollywood movies. Wearing a long, silk black dress, Ophelia was running from…something. She kept turning the corners of the street, hoping to get out of the fog and find help, but the misty streets were like an endless maze. She turned down an alleyway, hoping it would lead to something different, all the while knowing it was the wrong decision.
Then the confirmation of poor choice was in front of her—the tiger. It was purring softly as it made its way toward Ophelia in the shadowed alleyway and then paused in front of her, waiting. Her tiger would help, she reassured herself.
The surrounding walls were covered with markings. Words written in blood glistening in the moonlight, but she couldn’t make sense of them.
A warm, strong hand pressed against her back. The tiger growled in response. She held her breath, praying she’d survive whoever was behind her.
As if under a spell, she turned on command. It was him. The beautiful man from the bar bathroom. Her tiger growled again inwarning. Ophelia glanced at it, but the man from the bathroom didn’t take note of the tiger at all.
“Ophelia,” whispered the unknown man into her ear.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see you,” he said, moving even closer to her in a seductive slink. For every step he took, she took one back until her bare shoulders hit the damp brick of the alley wall. The gelatinous, wet blood soaking her skin. She didn’t flinch from the discomfort. Entranced, she let the wall hold her as she scanned his lean, muscular form. He was so beautiful and languid with long fingers and his skin…He glowed. Confusion clouded her mind even though her body felt excited…
“You’re going to give me yourself, my wild one,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “Do you understand? You’re going to give me your orgasm first, and then when I’m done with you here, you’ll give me your soul.” He purred into her ear, and her core burned and pulsed in anticipation. The intoxicating stranger traced a finger from the divot at the bottom of her throat, between her breasts, over the black silk fabric of her dress, and down to her navel. Her breath hitched, and goosebumps erupted over her skin. He kept moving his long index finger to the top of her panties. He leaned forward, leaving an inch of separation from their bodies.
“Yes,” she breathed. His finger moved over the thin fabric of her dress and panties and pressed directly onto her clit. He wasn’t touching her flesh. He didn’t need to. He was bringing her pleasure to the surface with extraordinary ease.
“That’s it, wild one, give it to me. Feed me.”
Ophelia was rising to her climax, and at those last words, her perspective shifted. She was outside of her body, looking down upon herself, the stranger, and her tiger prowling in the alley’s darkness. It was all wrong. Very wrong—the blood, the dark alley, her tiger growling, his bizarre words. His seduction over her was too strong. She was overdosing on his words, his touch. He was bringing her to the brink of toxicity.
Wake up,she screamed at herself.Wake up! Wake up!
The stranger was still touching her, and she watched as her body began to writhe. He was bringing her there, and her back arched. Then the avalanche of pleasurable pulses cascaded through her body.
She wokewith a galloping heart and sweat coating her skin. She slipped her hand into her panties. Wet. Slightly pulsing still.
What the fuck.
Her tiger was there. Warning her. Protecting her. She’d wanted the man from the bathroom, and then suddenly didn’t. Her feelings had shifted on a dime from arousal to fear. But she came undone for him anyway. “Feeding” him, whatever that meant. She sat there uncomfortably with the conflicting feelings from her dream.
She checked her phone for the time. It was seven at night. She had slept all afternoon. An unread text prompted her to check her messages. A text from Etienne. With surprise, she opened the message.
Etienne: Hey O, how are you? I’m sorry for the way Ben treated you. I have never seen him like that before. I’m fucking furious with him. Hope you’re okay.
Ophelia didn’t know what to think. Etiennenevertexted her, and now he was checking in on her and sincerely apologizing for being a shitty friend. She wasn’t sure how to respond. It wasn’t his fault, but it was nice to know that he also thought Ben’s behavior went too far.
Ophelia: Hey, thanks for checking in. I’m okay. Definitely taken aback by it all.
