Page 165 of Fallen Omega

I frown. “You don’t look pleased.”

“Yeah?” He picks up my hands gently and sees my knees. The scabs are healing but I look a mess. I also feel like I’m ten-years-old and I fell in the playground.

Dante kisses each heel of my palms and lets go as he moves to rummage in a drawer. He’s back with some salve that smells like honey, and he rubs it on my hands.

“Maybe I’m not pleased. Maybe I wanted him to let me kill the fucker. Of course, I’m also glad Reaper was there and handled the bastard. Knight would have beaten him up.” Hestops. Shrugs. “Actually, we’re talking you. He’d have fucking killed him, too.”

He crouches down and rubs the salve on my knees.

“You’re so weird, Dante.”

“Why?” He puts the tube down and starts clearing the desk. “Because I just looked after the merchandise?”

My mouth twitches and I don’t think I hate or dislike him. I think I like him. A lot. Maybe too much, maybe too close to other things and feelings I don’t want to think about.

What’s that thing about love and hate?

They’re so close they’re pretty much the same, just move a needle a notch…

“You’re also an asshole,” I mutter.

He looks at me, and he smiles. It’s a genuine one and my legs give way. He catches me, pulling me against him. “You just figured it out?”

“No, I always knew it.”

“I’m worse than an asshole. I’m not any kind of hero. That’s Knight. And he’s a dubious one at best.”

I take a risk, slide my palms up along his chest. He doesn’t forbid it. “I didn’t ask for a hero.”

Dante doesn’t say a word and time stands still. There’s a moment, a real one that pulsates through us and the room, and then it’s gone and he lets me go. “Ever had a fantasy you never really thought of acting out until you were in the fucking moment?” He looks me up and down, gaze lingering at my breasts where my nipples poke out, and says, “Of course you haven’t. Take off your fucking dress.”

I do. I’m not wearing a bra. I didn’t bother putting one on this morning, figuring I’d wait until the cleaning was done and I grabbed a second shower. And I stand in front of him, panties slightly twisted.

I look down, my breasts are swollen, nipples hard and jutting, and my pussy is half showing, red and glistening, as are my thighs. And I shiver.

“Lucky you look good like that. Fuckable.”

“You just fucked me.”

“You also came when I didn’t allow it. I did not.”

I swallow, take a step back as panic laced with desire licks at my insides. “What are you going to do?”

He keeps clearing the desk. There’s not a lot on there but he’s meticulous and I think it’s to stretch out my agony. “Live out my fantasy and fuck you on the desk.”

“That’s a pretty tame fantasy.”

“It’s not my only fantasy.”

He doesn’t wait. He picks me up and deposits me, and he dives down between my legs. It’s a show case study in denial because he starts slow. The licks are soft, rhythmic, designed to make a woman disintegrate. And the stroke of his tongue starts at my clit and goes down to my tunnel, licking inside and then up. A measured pace, a thing of beauty that leads me up towards nirvana.

I start panting, I can feel the pressure building, and the orgasm there, just there.

I reach for it and start to shake.

Dante bites me, high, right on my clit and I scream out.

He clamps a hand over my mouth and starts to suck and pull and scrape me with his teeth. It’s too much. It’s a brutal onslaught I need to escape and I twitch, trying to get away. But his other hand holds my right hip, and his body traps my left leg. I’m caught, pinned, and spread out for his mercy.

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