THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

Emma opened her eyes finally after much struggle, and sat up quickly on her bed.

“What the hell…” She whispered vehemently, rubbing her eyes intermittently with her hand.

“What the hell had just happened?” She repeated, as she tried to make sense of what she was feeling. Her thoughts were all the more jumbled, that she was trying so much to make sense out of them.

She held her bent over head in her palms, trying to remember, trying to know if whatever had happened had been a dream or reality. For God’s sake, she was dripping wet and fucking horny! This had never happened before, not even after she fantasizes about Derek so much. She felt invaded.

She ran her hands from her neck, down to the curves of her breast slowly, and then cupped one of the softness. She had been touched. She knew it. Someone had touched her, against her will. Someone had compelled her to react to his touch. Someone had invaded her senses without her permission. And she didn’t know who. Her mind was flurry. Whoever had touched her, had also tampered with her thoughts, not wanting her to really remember his face or when the shit had all happened. She only remembered the erotic touches, and that alone made her hornier and angrier at the same time.

But she wasn’t an ordinary human. She thought, refusing to let this go.

She got down from her bed, and started pacing tro and fro the room, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to remember, but to no avail. There was not even a scent in the room. It all smelt her.

“He is good…” She muttered. “The idiot is good.” She said, wanting to forget the feel of his hands on her skin, on her breasts, but failing miserably.

“I swear I will kill whomever did this…” She swore, desperately trying not to cry out of frustration. To her, it felt like rape. The only different and good thing was that the strange man hadn’t tried to touch her down there. She believed that she would have gone berserk if he had.

Then she remembered Derek.

“No. I’m not cheating on him. I didn’t cheat on him.” She muttered strongly, as a tear dropped from her left eye. She wondered what he would say if she told him this, not that she would tell him though. This would be a secret.

Out of a zeal borne out of desperation to liberate herself from these tempting entanglements of lust, she decided to do a trip down the memory lane, a rewind of the night events; hoping that she would find a clue somewhere.

She remembered up to the time of having a call with her sister’s roommate. Everything after that was a blank. She felt a sharp pain in her head whenever she tried to push through the blockage. But she had never been a quitter. She thought, walking up to the window.

She looked out of the window. The night was dead. There was no noise anywhere. She knew that for sure Derek and Maya had gone to sleep, without checking in on her.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

“Typical…” She muttered, believing that, that was the reaction expected whenever people singled out an odd kid.

With her elbows down on the windowsill, her back, a bit bent, and her head propped on the base of arms, she looked out into the deadness of the night. A soft soothing wind was blowing. The time should be 12am now. She guessed.

She would have loved to go strolling through the corridors of the large mansion to clear her head, but she remembered what had happened the last time that she had tried to do so. She had met a moving painting that had made her look like a mad person in front of Melvina and her husband. She knew that they hadn’t believed her that night, even though she could read from their eyes that they desperately wanted to do so. Their common sense had won over though.

She shrugged, about to get away from the window, when she saw a soft black feather at the farthest part of the windowsill. She picked it up. The feather surely belonged to a big black bird. But what was it doing there? She had a feeling that it had something major to do with whatever had happened to her that night that she couldn’t remember, so , she held it tightly in her hand, reaffirming that she would remember and when she did, the man or creature that had done this to her will pay.

With that established, she won against her fear, and decided to take a stroll around the mansion. Perhaps, after that, she would have the strength to go through her history notes.

And so, still holding the feather in her hand, she walked up to her door, opened it, and left the room.

But after a few minutes, she walked back into the room, then headed straight to the small bathroom which the room had come with, a feature she had been so happy about when she had found out. She had wondered then if all the rooms had had their own private baths.

“I need to wash him off myself…” She kept muttering even as the erotic touches and images continued playing in her mind.

She filled the bath with water and shampoo, then got rid of her night gown which she was sure she would never wear again, before stepping into the bath, all the while refusing to touch her honeypot, not wanting to feel its slickness or dripping wetness. Feeling the wetness on her thighs were enough to make her feel dirty and tainted.

When she got into the bathtub, she picked up the sponge and scrubbed and scrubbed, till her body felt sore, her honeypot included. She didn’t want to feel a trace of wetness anywhere. But her mind was an entirely different matter. She wished she could scrub it clean; especially after hitting the water in the tub sharply in frustration and anger because she had suddenly found herself fondling and pinching her nipples as she had allowed the erotic touches in her mind take over for a few seconds.