Page 26

Twenty-Five

Ophelia

I can’t believe Eve and Quinn did that for me. It’s a single bright spot in the fucked-up nightmare of this evening, the one thing that stops it being unbearable. I’ve only known these women a couple of days, and they’re on their knees in their lovely dresses. For me.

The pathetic thing is, I can’t think of one person I know in the outside world who would do anything half as kind.

My dad only allows me to be friends with a certain type of woman. Any friends who don’t fit the social mold he wants are discouraged, first subtly and then with a firmer hand. I have a lot of acquaintances among the wealthy socialites, women I exchange air kisses and vapid gossip with. But not a single one would dirty an evening gown for my sake.

The Compound should be the loneliest place on earth, but it isn’t.

Quinn gives me a wicked grin, then stretches up to Jacob. They aren’t as in-your-face affectionate as Gabriel and Eve, but even so, I can see the connection between them. The little glances and subtle touches. He’s terrifying, a giant who could snap her in two, but she needles and sasses him like it’s a game .

She returns clutching a toast point smothered in paté. Before she takes a bite, she whispers, “The hot salve is evil. Jacob once tied me up and covered me in it as a punishment. I had to lie there and watch one of his stupid soccer games, and he played with my nipples the entire time. He gagged me to keep me from screaming.”

“Gabriel uses it on me, too,” Eve chimes in. High spots of color stand out on her cheeks, and her words run together as though the wine is hitting her. “Sunday is our day together. Some days, he reapplies it all day long because he loves to make me beg.”

She covers her mouth, cheeks growing redder. I doubt she normally shares this much.

The confessions should horrify me—they’re one more example of how messed up this place is—but all they do is make me feel better. Eve and Quinn have been through the same thing. I’m not pathetic for how I’m reacting to the stupid salve.

Sebastian’s hand on my head snaps me out of the slumber party mood. He finds my ear, and it’s yet another spot he can use to torture me. I didn’t even know I was sensitive there. Why do I have to be? He traces his finger along the edge, and everything comes to life again. My body is a rollercoaster, and every time I hit the downslope, I almost lose my mind with need.

He grabs the leash where it meets the collar and gives a gentle tug up. I rise with the pressure until I’m high on my knees, staring up at him in his chair.

I expect him to be angry, but I’m wrong. I never seem to guess his moods correctly. He angles his seat so I’m between his thighs and smiles.

The intimacy of the position hits me in a rush, and I start to sink back down, but he keeps a tight grip on the collar. “No, you don’t. You’re not having a picnic with the girls under the table. This is where you stay.”

Waiters arrive, older men in tailcoats and white gloves. They don’t even glance at the three kneeling women, just clear the plates and replace them with the next course. It’s like we’re invisible.

The next dish is a tiny coil of thin steak, rare and coated in some sort of sauce. Sebastian spears it. “Open up.”

“I’m not hungry.” It’s a lie, but my stomach is coiled up in knots.

He sighs. “I didn’t ask if you were hungry. Do as you’re told, pet, if you don’t want to add a public spanking to this evening’s fun.”

No. I can’t take one more indignity today. I open my mouth and let him feed me the bite-sized morsel. It’s really, really good, melting in my mouth with the perfect mix of spicy and sweet. I won’t starve in this place, that’s for sure. The food is insane.

Sebastian watches me swallow like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, then spears the steak from his own plate and holds it in front of my lips.

I frown. “That’s yours.”

“I don’t care. Open up.”

I do. I can feel myself slipping into compliance again, but what other choice do I have? If this evening has proven anything, it’s that the men here can do whatever they want to their Wards. I’m sure he could strip me naked, bend me over the table, and fuck me right here, and all he’d get would be a few disapproving looks.

Something deep in my core clenches at the lurid image. Eyes on us. Watching my debasement. Why isn’t that as horrifying as it should be? The salve must be messing with my head .

As I swallow the second bite of steak, Sebastian sets the fork down and takes a deep breath. I can see the moment darkness descends on him. His pupils dilate and his lips part, and my skin prickles like I’m sensing a predator. One hand grips my collar, tight enough to press on my throat, and the other goes to my breasts.

Oh God. Oh no.

If I thought it was intense before, I was wrong. How I felt earlier was a warmup for this all-out assault on my senses. He twists my nipple through the dress, then makes a frustrated noise and shoots his hand underneath, knocking my strap to the side. I yelp at the exposure, but then his fingers are on my sensitized skin, and everything else ceases to exist.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. A lightning bolt of pure need drives into my center. I moan, eyes closing. Gabriel’s voice makes it through the haze. “She’s hitting the peak. If you’re planning on doing something about it, now’s the time.”

Sebastian fixes my dress, then gets to his feet, pulling me with him.

He wraps his arm around my waist and just about carries me through the room. The other diners' faces blur as we reach a door and he pulls me through it. A sweet, lemony scent hits me as Sebastian sets me down and makes sure I’m steady on my feet before he lets me go.

We’re in a five-star bathroom, complete with a marble sink, a selection of expensive perfumes and cologne, and an enormous mirror, oval and edged with swirling gold just like the pictures outside. Sebastian locks the door, then points at the vanity, danger crackling off him in a cloud.

“Bend over. Hands on the bench. Now.”

His intentions couldn’t be any clearer. I picture it and can almost feel it, which sets off another blinding surge of need. I don’t want this, but fuck, I need it. I need it more than anything.

Still, I hesitate. Once this is done, it can’t be undone. If he has me once, he'll do it again and again whenever he pleases. His reluctance to take that final step has been a paper-thin bubble of protection, and even though my body is screaming at me, it’s dangerous to let it go.

He takes a step toward me, then another. Then he’s up close, his hand is wrapped around my collar, and even the scent of him makes my blood race and my pussy clench. He turns my head up to face him as he shoves his hand between my legs.

There’s nothing gentle about how he touches me now. He grips me by the pussy, and the rough pressure of his fingers makes me yell and moan all at once. Everything else evaporates. My whole world narrows to the pressure on my clit as he drags me to the vanity and flattens me against the cool marble.

It’s happening. Oh God, it’s happening, and even though I’ll hate myself later, I can’t find a no. It’s vanished from my vocabulary. He lifts my skirt, bunching it up around my waist, and the pure humiliation of it hits me. Our first time, and it’s not in his bed or some beautiful place. I’m bent over a sink in a restaurant bathroom like a whore.

My pussy clenches again as the chink of his belt buckle hitting the floor rings through the room. Then his cock presses against my entrance, his fingers find my clit, and I forget where we are altogether.

He’s pressed against me, just the tip inside, but he’s not moving. Why isn’t he moving? I push back, all shame gone, but he holds me in place against the marble as he whispers, “What do you say? I told you the magic words. ”

What? He moves his finger the tiniest fraction against my clit, and I cry out. The frustration is shredding my brain. Words? What fucking words?

“Say it, Ophelia, or I swear I’ll tie you up, cover you in the salve, and spend the rest of the night fucking your mouth. Last chance.”

It comes to me, and I stammer the words in a rush. “Please fuck me, sir.”

The wash of shame mixes with desire, and I don’t know which is stronger as he pushes inside me.

Yes. Oh my God. Yes.

I’m soaked, wetter than I’ve ever been in my life, but still feel every inch of him as he fills me. There’s pain as my body stretches, but the pleasure swallows it, consumes it, and uses it as fuel to burn even hotter. He feels good. Better than good. Better than anything has ever felt.

He groans as he settles all the way in, and it echoes through my bones. “Fuck, Ophelia. Jesus.”

He holds there for a long moment, then shifts his fingers on my clit and starts to thrust. Slowly at first, but he builds to a punishing rhythm. It’s almost too much pleasure at once, his fingers grinding on my clit as he fills me, and my control shatters right along with my goddamn mind.

That can’t be me yelling and moaning, can it? It can’t be me pushing back into him and spreading my legs to take him as deep as I can. I’m lost, riding a wave of pleasure that drowns everything else. When my climax hits, it’s an explosion on an oil rig. Every muscle in my body clenches at the searing wave of sensation, and I scream.

Too much. It’s too much .

Instead of fading like a normal orgasm, it goes on and on, small eruptions following the volcanic blast. I shake, my body spasming like a puppet, as Sebastian growls, “Yes. Fuck. Yes.”

He grips my collar and yanks my head up. In the mirror, I see a feral woman, lips parted, hair stuck to her sweaty face, eyes devoid of anything but lust.

“Look,” he commands. The man behind me is a wild creature. His lips split in a savage grin, then his eyes close, and he groans. His hips slam forward one last time, pinning me to the vanity with bruising force. My eyes close, too, and I feel it as he shoots inside me. There’s a finality to it, and I can’t fight the sense of being claimed.

I’m his now. I belong to him.

Stupid. Sexist. Laughable. But it doesn’t stop it from feeling true.

I don’t know how long we stay there, but awareness creeps back in short bursts. Wetness on my thighs. An ache in my back and feet. Sebastian slides out of me, and it stings. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but all I feel is a pleasant ache. A sense of relief.

There should be shame, and maybe there will be later, but right now, I really don’t give a shit if what I just did was wrong. I’m trapped in this horrible place, and Sebastian is determined to break me. So what if I did something that felt good? No one cares about proper behavior here. I could walk out into the restaurant naked, and no one would judge me.

It’s a tiny bit liberating.

Sebastian smiles, and the darkness is gone—for now. He helps me tidy myself up, kisses my cheek, and calls me his good little pet. It should be demeaning, but I lean toward it in the blissful aftermath of pleasure. I can still feel the hot salve, but its power is fading. Soon I’ll be my normal, boring self again .

When we exit the bathroom, our table is almost empty. Only Jacob and Quinn remain, surrounded by empty plates. Quinn gives me a knowing smile. “Better?”

“Much.”

Her smile widens as we sit. “Thank God you’re back. “This gorilla”—she jerks a thumb at Jacob—“just ate everyone’s fucking food. The full five courses.”

Jacob rolls his eyes. “Please. As if that counted as food. Those tiny little bites? Pile it all on a plate, it wouldn’t even be breakfast.”

Sebastian drains the remains of his wine. “Where did everyone go?”

Jacob snorts. “Gabriel lasted all of five minutes with Eve on her knees before he dragged her off. Then Candice flagged an issue with one of the other CIs, and she and Hadrian left to deal with it. We were just about to go.”

Sebastian lays his hand over mine on the table. “Are you still hungry, pet? Should I ask for a doggie bag?”

Quinn rolls her eyes at his choice of words, and I shake my head. “I’m good. Tired, actually.”

Quinn nods. “It’s the salve. You’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

We get to our feet. My heel slips on the wooden floor, and it drags my mind back from the sleepy, comfortable place it’d gone. The shoes. Medical. My plan. I can’t let myself get lazy.

The staircase is my best chance. I clutch the railing as I take careful steps down. It really is a deathtrap in these shoes; no need to fake it. But if I want to end up in Medical and not propped on the sofa with an ice pack, this fall has to look convincing.

Five steps left. Four. It’s time…

I let my foot twist under me. Sebastian clutches my arm, but I drop my weight and slip from his grasp, crashing down the last few stairs.