Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Ethan doesn’t hear me. I’m not sure if it’s because the music is too loud or if he’s too fucking distracted with his dick in his hand. He’s shirtless, jeans halfway down his ass, a sight I don’t need to see. He’s looming over an equally shirtless Ophelia, who has both hands flat on his chest. A package of condoms sits on the bedside table and when I see it, and see Ophelia’s face, something goes off inside me.
My hands fist and blood rushes my veins, pounding so loud against my ears I don’t hear anything but that rush as I grab Ethan and haul him off her, hurling him against the wall. He crashes against it with a grunt, and when he drops to the floor, I see the dent where his stupid head hit.
I glance down at Ophelia who is clutching her shirt in her hands, eyes wide with shock, but it’s Ethan I stalk toward. As he gets to his feet, he tucks his dick back into his jeans. I get to him in three easy strides, and before he can think, I draw my arm back and smash my fist into his jaw.
Ophelia screams. Ethan is dazed. But all I can see is Ethan with his dick in his fucking hand looming over a very young and utterly inexperienced girl.
“Fuck. Man. What the fuck?”
I swear there are tears in his eyes. I grip him by the throat and slam him against the wall.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demand.
“Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s fucking sixteen!” He touches his lip and his fingers come away bloody.
“Too young, you fucking idiot.”
“Sixteen is legal age to consent. Get the fuck off me!”
I almost hit him again but for Ophelia. “Stop. Oh my God, stop!”
I turn to her, trying to get my rage under control. She’s off the bed, holding her shirt over her bare chest.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask through gritted teeth.
She shakes her head.
“Did he touch you?”
She just stares at me.
“Phee. Tell him. I asked you and you said yes. Tell him.”
“We were just kissing. That’s all,” she says.
“Just kissing?” I glance down at Ethan’s still undone jeans. “What exactly was she kissing?”
“Like I said, she’s sixteen. It’s none of your business what I do with my girl.”
My girl. His words draw a low growl from inside my chest.
“Get the fuck off me or I’ll call the cops,” he says.
“You don’t touch her. Ever. Do you hear me?”
Ethan looks me over, sneers. He’s a cocky little idiot because he must know I can end him. “Why? You want her for yourself? She old enough for you now, is that it? I see you, perv.”
I draw my arm back to punch him, but Ophelia hurls herself at me, catching my arm and yelling for me to stop. I do because I don’t want to scare her any more than she must be. I release him, turn to find her tugging her shirt on.
“Get your things. I’m taking you home,” I say to Ophelia.
Ethan’s words, my girl, are on fucking repeat. I shake my head. She will not be one of Ethan Fox’s string of girls.
“I can take care of myself,” Ophelia says, surprising me. She turns her attention to Ethan. She steps right up to him, more assured than I’ve ever seen her. I watch, open-mouthed, when she raises her arm and slaps him hard.
Ethan stands there, utterly shocked.
“I told you no and no means no. You ever do that again, and Silas won’t be the one sending you to the ER,” Ophelia tells him in no uncertain terms.
I stare at her, eyebrows high, struck mute as she stalks back around the bed and drops to her hands and knees to feel around the carpet.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Stupid contact.” A minute later, she holds it up. “Got it.”
“Good. Get the rest of your things. I’m taking you home.”
When Ethan opens his mouth to protest, I drag him out of the bedroom. “You listen to me, you little punk. She’s a good kid. Legal age of consent or not, she is not for you.”
“Who’s she for then, Silas? You?” He snorts.
“You just leave her alone, or I swear next time, I’m going to beat that pretty face of yours so hard, Mommy won’t recognize you,” that last part I say so only he hears. No need to scare Ophelia, although seeing her in action tonight, I’m thinking I have been underestimating her.
“When Dad sees what you did, you and your goddamn mother will both be out on the fucking street, you son of a bitch.”
Ophelia steps into the hallway, shoes on, purse in hand.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I can get home myself,” she says.
“Yeah, well, I’m walking you. Don’t give me any sass.”
“Sass? How fucking old are you?” Ethan asks. I flip him off as I follow her down the stairs. Once we get to the first floor, she stops and turns to me.