Page 140 of Fallen Omega

And he rocks against me, his erection pressing into me, taunting, and I somehow just manage to resist the urge to rock back against it. Inside me, the heat levels are rising to cataclysmic. My traitorous body wants him. The wetness is growing and the itch only he can scratch grows, too. I’m aching.

“Get off me, Dante,” I manage.

“You want me.”

“No,” I whisper, “I don’t. My body might. But me? I don’t like you. I think you’re awful and you don’t even like me. I’m just a girl to taunt, torture and fuck, aren’t I? Or not fuck and leave orgasmless.”

Dante smooths my hair from my face, my neck, and he still rocks into me. Can a girl come from this? Because my clit is tingling and that pre-orgasmic pressure is building.

“Your mind and your body want me. You’re driving yourself mad with it, aren’t you? Trying to work out how someone as fucked up as you are over me can also want Reaper and his dark and still waters. Those, violent, primal and untapped depths. How you can cream your panties and swoon and want the pretty dude with the dimples and curls and soft Dom ways. At the same time.”

“Go away.”

Dante licks my throat, right where Knight bit. He takes his time, licking it over and over and then…oh god, then he starts to suck.

I can’t help it, a cry breaks free, one that’s pure need and desire.

It hurts and feels phenomenal. It’s the long, slow pull of sexy urge. Ofalmostbeing owned.

And I push into him. I can’t help it.

His teeth scrape against my skin.

I tremble. The cascade of heated excitement that showers down inside me is almost orgasmic, and I push up, harder, needing that scrape and pull, those feelings.

If he breaks the skin, then?—

Dante steps back. Gaze on my throat, a glimmer coming to his blue eyes that whips hard against my senses.

He didn’t break the skin, but he runs a finger over that patch, making a low moan escape. “Put your hair up on your idiotic date tonight.”

Then he’s gone.

I slide down the wall and hit the floor. I’m not sure how long I’m there.

My mind’s fractured.

I’m back to a jumble of skittering nerve endings that Dante caused, one of the reasons I stayed in my room for a few days. I might have stayed forever, missing work, licking the emotional wounds, until Darcy stormed in. She told me to pull it all together and get out there, show Dante and the others what I’m made of.

Day one, I bussed. Same with day two. Yesterday, she told me to wait tables, and for fuck’s sake, not to go into private rooms or let anyone touch me. And Dante watched. Sometimes Reaper, sometimes Knight, too.

I put a cold fingered hand to my face. I get it. They have to rotate, and I noticed before when I did the menial jobs that’s what they do, keep an eye on this place, on what happens.

On me.

Pandora’s Box must be their most important business place.

And I coped, dealt with every wrong thought, every urge, every whisper to run. All of it. I dealt. Stuck myself together again.

Because in the back of my head was that one thing I couldcling to. The early hours rum-soaked kiss from Knight. His asking me out. He didn’t say where or when. Not until the dress arrived today with a note. One word in slanted letters.Tonight.

And now?

Dante’s undone…everything.

“Grow up, Liz, and keep it together,” I mutter.

My heart squeezes and I know I’m not alone. I look up. Into the flat, dark eyes of Reaper, that beautiful scarred face making things in me lurch.

---