Page 8 of Hotwife
I should have hesitated. Anyone would. Any normal, stable person would.
But I didn’t.
Kicking off my ballet flats, I padded onto the plank like a pirate’s prisoner. My blue sundress swished side to side. My heart raced harder than ever before and it felt… exhilarating. Taking a deep breath, I lowered myself onto my ass and sat cross-legged, trembling.
Once my breathing steadied, I leaned forward to peer into the dark water. Nothing but the flounder of water and the deafening hum of a filtration system met me. They’d make an appearance. I just had to be patient. Staff lunch break was an hour long, but they were always late returning. I had at least an hour and a half. My heart rate softened as I stared down at the tank, waiting for any evidence of my favorite predator. Something uncomfortable spiraled in my gut as my heartbeat steadied. I didn’t like the feeling of normalcy. The high had to come back. Something primal inside of me needed it to return.
Against all better judgement, I inched my feet out from under me and slid towards the edge of the platform. The heavy beating in my chest returned, and I closed my eyes to revel in the pleasure of that feeling. Kicking my feet over the edge, I slowly lowered them until my heels met water and my feet submerged. It was surprisingly warm. Duh, I guess I forgot Hammerheads like warmer oceans. My trembling palms held tight to the edge, and I relaxed my legs so that water reached my calves.
My vision went blurry with the distinct possibility of danger. It was unlikely that an acclimating shark would bite, but it also wasn’t unheard of. Though the water was dark, I was sure I’d see one coming… right?
“You know,” a man’s deep voice rumbled from somewhere close behind me and I startled. “When I said you swam with sharks without being bitten, it wasn’t exactly a challenge.”
A gasp shocked through me as I turned my head over my shoulder. Desmond stood at the top of the ladder, wearing a white t-shirt with a heavy-looking camera strung around his neck.
“How-how are you here?” I asked when a flash blinded me. “What the hell? Did you just take my photo?” Stars danced behind my vision as blood rushed to my cheeks.
“You’re asking me how I’m here when you’re the one offering yourself up as fish food?” Carefully removing his camera and setting it on the ground, he took a cautious step onto the platform, causing a disturbing wobble.
“I don’t even know you. And I’m not exactly in the mood to be fucked with right now,” I replied, breathless and gravelly, a tone I didn’t recognize.
“I’m Desmond,” he said, reaching out his hand in offering. “Most people call me Des. Here, let me help you up.”
“Stop,” I ordered without thinking. Something kept me glued to my seat. A freakish determination to keep the rush, to hold on to the danger for just a moment longer.
His deep green eyes scanned my body, and I noticed his jaw tick. “I get it, believe me, I do. But losing a leg isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Raising an eyebrow, I opened my mouth to respond, but fell silent. Des lifted his pants leg, exposing a glint of metal where the flesh of ankle should have been. The sight of it infused a hundred more questions about this man on top of the ones I already had.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pulled my attention back to the dark gray water. “I just need to feel something,” I whispered hoarsely. “Anything.” A renegade emotion sat like a boulder on my chest as I wiggled my toes in the warmth below me. Half of me wondering if I’d be jerked below by teeth at any moment. The other half wondering why I didn’t care about that possibility more than I did.
“I can help with that,” Des replied, his voice softer now. He took two more strides towards me and the plank dipped a bit lower. “Trust me.”
Thunder in my ribcage returned at the feel of his warmth close to me as he towered above me, extending his huge hand. Nodding, I resigned. I had to get up at some point, anyway. Taking his palm in mine, the storm inside my bones hushed for the briefest of moments. It felt… peaceful. His strength overpowered me as he effortlessly pulled me to stand, holding tight to my grip. Our eyes met in a way that made me wonder if we’d met before. He seemed so familiar. A slow smirk curved his lips like a sarcastic comment was forthcoming.
But it was too late.
It all happened in slow motion. The sound of a thrashing splash pulled my attention, and I tried to turn. My heel slipped, and I fell backwards. Warmth and murky wetness engulfed me, drowning my senses and pulling me under.
The first feeling that registered was embarrassment. I would trip into a body of water in front of a gorgeous man. The second emotion gut kicked the first for being such a shallow bimbo and shouted, “You’re in a shark tank, idiot!”
At least if I died, it was in pursuit of dick.
Lack of air burned my lungs, but I didn’t kick to the surface, like any sane person would. I stalled, slowly squinting my eyes open. Tiny effervescent bubbles zigzagged within my short range of sight.
Then I saw it.
Or them, rather.
The massive body of dark grey glided in front of me, displaying his sharp dorsal fin. Eyes bobbed back and forth on its flat head, and while my attention was stunned on his size, another swimming right for me shot a pang of fear through my chest.
Reaching out my trembling hand like I was about to pet a docile puppy and not have it bitten off, the massive predator startled, taking a sharp left turn and bumping me with his pectoral fin. A firm grip grabbed under my arms and propelled us upward, breaking the surface.
I gasped with a feral vengeance, coughing and splashing the surface of the water, and holding onto his thick neck. My rescuer grabbed my waist and lifted me up, where I ungracefully belly-flopped onto the drenched platform, hacking like a seal. The sting of saltwater burning my eyes and lodged in my throat.
A second later, a heavy body thumped next to me, dripping and swearing.
Without thinking, drunk on adrenaline and the image of being swatted by the fin of a hammerhead, I laughed. And I couldn’t stop.