by Abbi Glines
I needed a diversion from the thoughts roaring through my head. Ophelia was the perfect solution. Not only did she do an excellent job easing all the chaos inside me but she was safe because she didn’t get attached to men. She was a free spirit with fucking walls protecting her from anything real. I’d laid in bed last night thinking about that and why she had those walls. There had to have been pain in her past that taught her to be careful. Protect herself. I knew neither of us were in danger of falling in love or wanting more. Which was why coming here was so easy. No one needed to love me. To love me would be tragic. For any woman.
The door swung open and Ophelia waved me inside. I noticed the difference immediately. The exposed beams and stainless steel appliances and countertops were the same. The industrial feel, however, wasn’t as noticeable with the way it was now decorated. It was full of energy where once it had been more classically decorated. A mix match of color and a free wild style was the only way to describe it now. The furniture was eclectic. A bright blue sofa with pillows covered in yellow feathers on each end was the first thing that caught the eye when you entered the open flat. The massive painting of what was an abstract of what I recognized immediately as New Orleans French Quarter.
“Where did you get that painting?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of it.
“It’s amazing isn’t it?” she said with a wistful smile. “It’s Lila Kate’s. I don’t get to keep it. She’s moving it to her master bedroom in her new house once she decides on the new furniture she wants in there. I can’t remember who the artist is that painted it. I just know it’s all the places that mean something to her and Cruz. Their story . . . I guess . . .” She trailed off then and looked away as if she realized I had been a part of that story too. It was her time in New Orleans with Cruz that she’d fallen in love with the bad boy and realized I wasn’t what she wanted.
“He had it made for her then?” I asked, truly not at all bothered by the idea. I was glad Cruz Kerrington had turned it around before he lost the best thing that ever happened to him. I was also glad I hadn’t loved a woman that could never love me equally. To Lila, I would have always been second best.
“Yes,” Ophelia said then walked over to the kitchen. A bright blue toaster oven, espresso machine, and blender sat on the counters. The same blue was also the color of the hand towel and ceramic containers. I liked the way the place fit Ophelia’s personality. She had made it hers.
She stirred the blue pot on the stove then went to check the oven. “Not too much longer,” she said with a nervous smile. I was trying to figure out what had suddenly made her tense. “Here’s a plate.” She offered a small bright yellow plate to me that had the word EAT written on it in a bold blue print. “Help yourself to the stuffed jalapeños. I’ll get you a drink.”
I crossed the living area and took the plate from her by reaching over the bar. The stools were metal but painted bright colors with different faces that resembled works by Picasso on the backs of them.
“Do you want whiskey? Or red wine? I’m afraid I don’t have beer.”
I studied her a moment before speaking. “You went from relaxed to tense. Why?” I asked her bluntly. No point acting like her mood hadn’t changed drastically within seconds.
Although she didn’t respond right away, her eyes flicked very briefly over my shoulder toward the painting before she went to grab a glass from the cabinet. “I didn’t realize I was tense,” she replied. Like hell, she didn’t.
I understood the difference in her demeanor now though. I’d missed it because she was so wrong with her train of thought that it hadn’t dawned on me. Ophelia obviously believed I’d cared more for Lila than I had. “The painting,” I began. “Lila and Cruz, our past, none of that bothers me. I was over it all before I drove out of Sea Breeze on Cruz’s bike.” No reason for her to think my baggage had anything to do with her boss and former roommate.
Her shoulders relaxed. It was very subtle, but I still noticed.
“She was never meant to be mine. I don’t entertain the idea of anyone being my future. That belief is naïve.”
Ophelia’s smile fell some then. I couldn’t think of why she wouldn’t just agree. It was clear she felt the same way. She didn’t open herself up to men the way most women did. My being honest about how I felt shouldn’t put a damper on things for her. It should be a relief.
I took one of the jalapenos. “Whiskey will be fine,” I answered her earlier question. Then I took a bite from the stuffed pepper in my hand and watched her begin fixing my drink.
“Ice?” she asked.
“Three cubes,” I replied.
She cut her eyes at me with an amused expression and counted out three ice cubes before free pouring the whiskey. That was more than two ounces but not too much. She had a good eye.
When she placed the glass on the countertop in front of me, I finished off the appetizer in my hand. “These are amazing. Thanks for cooking. I’d have gladly taken you somewhere tonight. I didn’t expect you to go to all this trouble.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Those stuffed jalapeños were a cheat. I bought them prepared at the deli across the parking lot. All I had to do was put them in the oven. This”—she waved to the other items cooking—“is one of the few things I can cook. It’s nothing special and you may hate it. If you do, then you don’t have to eat it.”
I liked her honesty and ability to make fun of herself. She didn’t care about impressing me or anyone for that matter. She didn’t make excuses for things or try to be someone she wasn’t. She was confident in who she was and didn’t try to meet some higher standard to impress. That kind of self-worth was admirable. It was also sexy as hell.
“If it sucks, we can order pizza,” I stated the obvious. Although I’d told her that I was good with taking her out, now I had her all to myself I didn’t want to give that up.
“Mexican. If it sucks, we can order Mexican. There’s a new place in town and it’s yummy. Besides, I have my heart set on tacos.”
I almost said we could have gone there, but I didn’t. If she wasn’t going to lie about dumb shit neither was I. No reason to say I wanted to go out when I wanted to stay in. I came here to be near her and enjoy the way she made me feel. Staying away from everyone else would only make that calming effect her presence had on me stronger. I took another pepper and ate it while she pulled out what looked like tacos standing up inside some kind of slots that held them.
“It at least looks edible,” she said with relief in her voice.
“If that’s tacos, I’ve got to know what’s in the pot. You stirred it a lot and I’m trying to figure out what could possibly go with tacos that needs to be cooking in a pot and stirred so often.” My first thought had been beans or rice, but she’d worked over what was in the pot too much for it to be either.
“Queso,” she replied with a wide grin. “I might not cook much, but I make killer queso. And they’re not just any tacos. They’re baked grouper tacos.”
Right now, I would eat anything she put in front of me if I could just stay near her longer. This was the most peace I’d experienced in what felt like a lifetime.
MAY 26 / 7:40 PM
Ophelia Finlay
I KNEW AFTER the third glass of red wine I was at my limit. The fourth glass had been a dumb decision, but he had been smiling at my animated description of those who believe the earth is flat and it was such a rare thing for this new darker Eli to smile that I felt like I’d conquered the beast every time his lips curled up. It was as if I craved the sight. I was tipsy, but I was positive that if I was completely sober, I’d feel the same way.
Eli’s hand was resting on my upper arm as I reclined back on his chest. We had taken our drinks to the sofa after dinner and continued our conversation about the belief in flat earth and how ludicrous it seemed. Then it had turned into a debate over man walking on the moon and had it actually happened. At some point between his fourth glass of whiskey and my third glass of wine we had t
urned on the television and where I had left Game of Thrones paused appeared on the screen.
Eli had given me a look as if he’d caught me being naughty before pressing play. I’d had to explain several things to him, but he seemed to be caught up and understanding what was happening. He had stretched out his arm and told me to lay back. I’d done so without question. This was how we’d finished two episodes and the rest of our drinks.
My focus had not been on the show but rather on how good he smelled. How hard his body was and how close his hand rested to my right breast. Lust had reared its head and I knew my breathing was a little quick. Although I was trying to control it and not get too carried away with my imagination. I knew I should call it a night, offer him the guest bedroom since he’d drank too much to drive and it was late, and then get up before I did something stupid. The wine had made this worse and I knew it.
The next episode was about to begin when Eli shifted away from me and I watched him set his glass down. Just the slight distance and space between us disappointed me. I’d been trying to get up, but the actual moving away from him hadn’t been something I was prepared for. Before I could accept that our night was over and this delicious warmth I’d been in the past hour and a half had come to an end he leaned back and resumed his position.
Needy me snuggled right back against him like a damn puppy dog. I should be disgusted with myself, but this felt too good to care. I inhaled deeply and the scent of him made my nipples harden. I was getting lost in my own little sexual fantasy. The wine was to thank for this. Not that it took wine to make me want Eli Hardy. I wanted him without the wine. But the wine had made me clingy and unable to act like I wasn’t wanting to crawl all over him.
“Ophelia.” His voice was deeper and huskier than normal. I shivered a little and squeezed my thighs together. “You keep that up and I’m going to fuck you on this couch.”
I froze. Just for a second. The word “fuck” had startled me as much as it had excited me. No man had ever warned me he was about to fuck me. A normal girl should be offended by that, right? Who wanted to be told they were going to get fucked?
Me.
Apparently, I wanted to be told by Eli Hardy that he was going to fuck me. Because I literally moaned with anticipation and grabbed his shirt in my fist as if I was making sure he didn’t leave and that he followed through with his threat.
He turned his body slowly then moved over me until I was lying flat on my back and he was staring down at me. “Is that what you want?” His voice was hard and demanding. It only made me more crazed. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” I whispered my eyes locked on his.
“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.” He ran a hand up my thigh and continued underneath the sundress I was wearing.
“I want you to fuck me,” I said the words he wanted and grinned up at him wickedly. He wanted me to ask for it then I’d play that game.
He growled and the slow ease with which he had been moving changed. The sundress was jerked up and I lifted my upper body so he could remove it from me completely. I was left in nothing but the white lace panties I had chosen not thinking he’d see them but because they made me feel pretty. He stilled and his eyes took in my breasts and stomach before moving down to the panties. Both his hands reached for the sides of the lace and I lifted my hips so he could slide them down my legs. He did so quickly, not giving me time to adjust to my sudden nakedness.
I was bare. Nothing hidden from his eyes. I flushed, but the heat in his hungry glare was the cause, not embarrassment. He wanted this as much as I did. The ache between my legs grew stronger and I wiggled beneath him in a silent plea. He lowered his head in response and licked my left nipple before pulling it into his mouth and sucking hard. My cry of pleasure caused him to bite down as he moved his hand to slip it between my legs and run a finger deliberately over my sensitive clit. The sharp pain from the bite mixed with the satisfaction of his desired touch gave me an exquisite jolt.
“AH,” I exhaled with a loud cry. His mouth moved to my right breast to suck, but his hand remained teasing me with rough large fingers. Sliding over the heat there and making me more crazed with desire than I’d ever been.
“This,” he said, shoving a finger hard inside me as he held my gaze. “You want me inside here?” he was asking again. I was quivering beneath him like a maniac in need. What more did he require as affirmation I wanted him to fuck me. Just like he asked me already. I was willing and begging. If he didn’t soon, I may die.
“Yes!” I sounded as desperate as I felt.
“Birth control?” he asked as he unzipped his jeans, keeping his eyes on me.
I nodded my head. Although no man had ever entered me without a condom on. I was very strict about safety. I should tell him. I should require he use one . . . but I realized in that moment no matter how bad Eli Hardy had gone, I trusted him. With this, I trusted him.
He grabbed my left leg and pulled it up higher in the crook of his arm. Our eyes held as he rocked his hips and filled me with one firm thrust.
The stretch of his entry made me go from sounds of gratitude to begging for it. He was thick and it stretched me. The pain from his size, however, was thrilling more than anything else. I’d never had a man in me with a cock this large. There was something to be said for it and I might become addicted. Each thrust touched the right spot without me having to maneuver my body to help him. How amazing was that? I became lost in the sensation not sure I’d survive this. How much pleasure could one person experience before it was too much?
“Holy fuck you’re tight,” he groaned, looking down at me. His pupils were large and the darkness in his eyes looked almost sinister. It was titillating. That ominous gleam staring down at me. His body covering mine. “So goddamn wet,” he cursed but there was satisfaction in his tone.
His crude descriptions of my sex sent me straight into my first orgasm. I arched my back underneath him and clawed at his arms as it burst from deep inside me. I’d never orgasmed like this. Before this moment, all my orgasms had been from direct contact with my clit. This one was not, and I felt more moisture lubricate our joining. Had I done that? My body shook from the experience. I was unable to give it more thought. His breath was warm against my ear. I felt his lips brush just against my temple. My eyes wouldn’t open yet and the heat from his breath against my neck caused me to shiver.
“That’s just the first one, baby. I’m not about finished with this sweet pussy. Feels too damn good. Not sure I can stop fucking it.” His words did exactly what he had known they would.
It ignited the fire inside me again. How many times would he be able to do this? As I panted and grabbed at his biceps, he pumped harder into me. I could see the same insane desperation in his eyes that I felt, and I lifted my hips to meet his thrust. Hungry to be there again. I began to scream his name as I burst into beautiful chaos deep inside and rode the waves of delight unaware of anything but how mind-blowing this was.
I was weak as I descended back to earth but when Eli pulled out of me, my eyes snapped open and I wanted to protest. Before I could form words to tell him I wanted more, he was lifting me up and turning me to lean me over the back of the sofa. My stomach pressed against the cushions and his hands grabbed my thighs and moved my legs farther apart. I understood then what he was doing, and I leaned forward more and jutted my bottom out toward him.
His large hands grabbed my waist in a tight grip, and he moved in from behind me. With one hard jerk, he pulled me back as he slammed into me. Stretching me again with his hard length. Making me moan loudly with my greed for more of what he could give me. He grabbed the back of my hair with one hand and squeezed my hip with the other. The control of the way he handled me should be frightening. But it wasn’t. Eli was different. He wasn’t the same guy I’d once met, but I trusted him without question.
“You asked me to fuck you,” he said with a harsh tone that made me tremble. I liked it when he talked that way while he was ins
ide me. “Now I don’t think I can stop,” he warned as he began to move faster with such hard thrusts the slapping of our bodies as he pumped inside me grew louder. As did his groans. “Yeah, fuck yeah, God your ass is perfect.” He cupped both of my butt cheeks in his hands. “FUCK!” he shouted as the warmth from his release shot inside me. The heat, the way his body shook, the growing wetness now coating us both sent me into the third and final orgasm. Before the darkness wrapped me up and pulled me under. The freedom of letting it take me was beautiful.
MAY 27 / 5:03 AM
Eli Hardy
I’D BEEN DRESSED for well over thirty minutes. I should have left already. It was the right thing to do for both of us. Ophelia was without a doubt the best sex I’d ever had in my life. There wasn’t even a close second. Being near her eased me and gave me peace that had become so foreign to me. She was like crisp spring water to a thirsty man.
I hadn’t been prepared for how being inside her would affect me. That I didn’t see coming. Until last night nothing had made me forget, feel like I had hope, gave me joy anymore. Not one damn thing I’d tried had relieved the despair so twisted inside me that I couldn’t break free of it. Nothing that is until I’d been inside Ophelia. Sex wasn’t meant to heal or move you. It was for pleasure. Last night had been pure lust. For both of us. We’d wanted each other and acted on it.
Finding myself again, the man I’d thought was gone, while I fucked Ophelia was so damn tragic I didn’t know how to wrap my head around it. Why couldn’t I feel that way without sex being involved . . . hell without a woman being involved. I didn’t want to connect with a woman again. I’d tried that, allowed myself to accept it, then I’d been marked for life because of it. Ophelia came into my life too late. Last night didn’t change the events that had transpired the past year for me. If it could, I wouldn’t be standing here trying to leave. I’d be in that bed still holding her.