Page 145 of Fallen Omega

It opens and lights bloom into buttery, welcoming light.

Then, he carries me over the threshold.

“Do you want to make small talk or just take this to the bedroom?”

I open my mouth and he steals a kiss, my arms around his neck, fingers in his soft curls and I can’t think of a thing to say.

“You want to go to the bedroom, don’t you?”

I nod again.

He grins and sets me down, then stalks me slowly so I back away and hit a wall, and he pins me in, kissing me, nibbling an erotic path over my lips, down my throat, to my cleavage, and back up again.

Knight looks at me. “You’re all wet and hot and wanting. And I bet you’re so fucking pretty naked. Wine?”

He spins away and it takes all I am not to sink down to the floor.

Instead, I follow him.

The living room is comfortable with a wet bar and muted autumn colors. He opens a bottle and pours two glasses as I wander around, touching the fabric of the sofa, running my fingers along the framed photos in black and white, things of beauty. Ugly parts of Starlight City made beautiful, otherworldly, through the lens.

Soft music plays. I don’t recognize the artist, but I know it’s been on the radio. It’s one of the songs that would come on in the kitchen where I used to work.

This is a seducer’s paradise and I hate all the women who’ve been here, every last one.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Liz. You steal souls and hearts.”

His words make me squirm and my chest tight and I don’t know where to look. “I’m not.”

“Take off your shoes, leave on the stockings, and loosen the zip of the dress, just a little. Just so Daddy can see little glimpses of that perfect body.”

Everything’s on fire, and I slide off the high heeled shoes, glad to be out of them and I unzip a little. He nods, and I unzip a little more, then another few zipper teeth.

“Enough.”

Knight holds out the drink to me and sits on his sofa. I stand, not sure what to do, but he touches the seat next to him and I sit. Holding the drink, feeling…I don’t know. Alive, so full of zinging nerves that don’t know what to do.

But he’s calm, that controlling air wrapping around me, showing he’s in charge, and I find myself giving over to it. He asks how homeschooling was, and as he does, he slips one arm strap off my shoulder, followed by the other. Then he observes his handiwork and pushes up my skirt until it’s obscenely high on my thighs.

“Knees together like a good, sweet girl.” He strokes my thigh, and talks to me, just about my life, growing up, my likes and dislikes, what I thought of dinner.

And he listens intently to every word. Nodding here and there, inserting questions when he wants clarifications.

I know he’s older than me and he looks young, he’s got to be thirty at least, but he can somehow pull off the air of being older. Way older, like he’s a father-like figure, my master, the man who’ll provide for and love me, and take care of me.

This is a side of his kink I never really expected. I just thought it would all be sex talk and actual sex. But Knight doesn’t do that. He embodies it and makes it about more than sex, something bigger, deeper, more profound. Oh, it’s soakedin erotic intentions, but it’s real intentions that are born out of the need to dominate, to protect.

He praises me for my perfect nipples, touching them when the air kisses one. “Lovely.”

“Oh.” I got to adjust the top but his hand stops me.

“You’re perfect, stunning. You should always be admired, worshiped, loved.”

And I melt.

He lets me ask things and he answers and my head’s a mess as we continue. He tells me how Dante saved him from prison, recruited him. How he found his calling in the Unholy Trinity.

He tells me harrowing tales that twist into hilarity of his hacking days, selling drugs and the rest, of skipping school, getting into trouble from the father of the first girl he slept with—not an omega—because he accidentally knotted her and her scream brought her father running.

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