Chapter 30 Ophelia
OPHELIA
I’m nursing a glass of red wine at the kitchen counter when I hear a key in the door and, a moment later, hear Silas talking to Hamish. I slip off the stool and turn to face him as he comes around the corner, and I gasp when I see him.
“What happened to you?”
His jaw is bruised, and there’s what my brain first processes as splatters of paint on his shirt and face.
I rush to him. His hands come to my arms as I touch his slightly swollen jaw and realize that those blotches are not paint but blood.
It doesn’t seem to be his blood, though.
I lift his hands and turn them over to look at the backs.
He doesn’t hide the bloodied, bruised knuckles from me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says and walks around me to the freezer, which is pretty much empty, so he tries the fridge, takes out a cold beer and holds it against his jaw.
“And Ethan?” I chance to ask.
“He’ll have a black eye. Got off easy, the little prick.”
“Jesus, Silas.”
He looks over at the counter where I left my phone. “You didn’t tell me you had your phone back.”
I pick it up because I’m not giving it up. “I forgot I did. Ethan gave it to me the other day and you’re not taking it.”
“No. I’m not taking it,” he says, sounding tired. He draws a deep breath in and exhales.
I sigh, too. “Let’s go upstairs, get the blood off you.”
He nods and looks almost like a younger boy when he lets me take his hand and we walk up the stairs together. He’s quieter than normal but I guess that’s his meeting with Ethan.
“You know, Ethan and I, that’s long over,” I say, turning to face him once we reach the bedroom.
“I know that,” he says as I begin to strip off his clothes.
“What he and I had, it was never what you and I have. Don’t let him get to you.”
He only exhales, expression serious. Once he’s naked, I reach up to touch that bruise on his jaw before looking into his eyes.
When I stand back and begin to strip off my own clothes, he watches me, the turquoise of his eyes growing darker.
Only when I’m naked does he let his gaze sweep up and down over me.
He draws me in to kiss me again, one hand sliding down between us to cup my pussy.
He draws back to watch me as he plays with my clit, and when I hear my own breath come ragged, he slips his fingers inside me, making me moan.
“Kneel, O,” he says after a few moments.
He stands back to watch me as I kneel at his feet, his cock at eye level.
He rubs my arousal over his length, watching me watch him while pumping his cock in his fist and I remember that first night I was here years ago, when I watched him jerk himself off in the shower. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
He steps closer, forcing me to lean backward, the back of my head coming to the edge of the bed.
“Open your mouth,” he tells me, and I do, greedy for him as he takes a fistful of my hair and tips my head back to slide his cock in.
My hands come to his thighs, and he’s not gentle when he thrusts into my throat, making me gag.
“Take it. Take me,” he says, drawing his length out.
I cough, having just an instant to catch my breath before he does it again, tugging on my hair to raise me up so my upper back is on the bed.
He sets one knee beside my face, still pumping his cock as he watches me.
“Swallow me whole, sweetheart,” he says and pushes his length all the way inside my mouth, down my throat.
I dig my nails into his thighs, panicking, but he draws out again.
“Relax your throat. Breathe when I draw out,” he instructs, moving inside me, taking his time as I try to relax. After a long while, he bites down on his lip and begins to fuck me, to press my head back into the bed and fuck my face.
I break skin on his thighs and gasp for breath between thrusts and he never takes his eyes from me. His taste is salty-sweet and when he’s close, when I feel him thicken, I watch his eyes go impossibly dark.
“Swallow. I want to feel you swallow,” he tells me and throws his head back.
When I feel the first spurts of come, I can’t help but swallow as I listen to his moans of pleasure, my swallows milking him for all he has until, finally, he draws out and stumbles backward.
I fall forward on my hands and knees and pant for breath.
When I look up at him, he’s watching me. I wipe away the mascara I’m sure has streaked my face.
He crouches down, rubs his thumb across my chin and puts it into my mouth. “You missed some. Swallow,” he says.
I do.
“Good girl.” He swipes his tongue across my cheek then kisses me deeply. “I like the taste of my come on your tongue,” he says.
“Me too,” I say and kiss him back.
“Your turn to come.” He lifts me to lay me on the bed, my legs and ass hanging off.
If he didn’t hold me up, I’d slide to the floor, but he does hold me.
He buries his face between my legs and eats me whole, his mouth soft, tongue wet, the scruff along his jaw a rough contrast. In moments, I’m coming, my hips bucking, Silas watching.
When it’s over and I slide to my knees once more, he takes my face in his hands and brings his forehead to mine.
“I love you, O. I love you so much, it hurts.”
I look into his turquoise eyes and watch them burn with the truth of what he says. I think about the boy I once met, the man he has become, the hero who broke, who straddles the line between good and evil, who has always been there to rescue me, no matter how he had to do it.
“I love you, Silas, and one day, when you need me, I’m going to rescue you. I promise.”