Page 183 of Fallen Omega

“Keep out of it,” Dante says.

I motion my head to the tinted window. “We’re here.”

“So?”

“We’ve got shit to do.” I sigh before making sure Liz is covered. I give her time to pull herself together. “Dante did bad there by revealing Knight’s name. It isn’t his to tell you.”

“Fuck that little prick,” Dante mutters, tugging her skirtdown a little more. “Come on. You look like you just got fucked. It’s perfect. So play along in there.”

“And if I don’t want to?” she asks.

“Still play along,” he says. “Angel, we’re here to catch a ghost if we can.”

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Lizette

Idon’t recognize myself when I catch a glimpse in the dark sex club’s mirrored walls. It’s over the top sensuality in the body of a sexy, wanton stranger, and I hate the three alphas.

Just like I want more of what Dante and Reaper did in the back of the car.

Dante pulls me to him, a hand wrapping around my thigh, as Reaper orders drinks. Dante glances lazily around and then kisses me as his fingers roam up, under my skirt.

I’m quivering, on the brink of coming in front of all these people. Just from the thought of what he might do, and the way I’m at his mercy to be degraded and exalted, to be the pleasure bringer. The receiver, whether I say I want it or not.

And then he actually touches me, a finger that slides along the crease where my inner thigh stops near my pussy lips.

My heart thumps and he pulls back and smiles a dirty, sleazy smile, like he can feel that thump, and I know he can feel the new layer of wetness, of need. I shift, meaning to moveaway because I know I should, but instead I go to him, anxious for more.

“Angel, you’re such a fucking filthy girl under the innocence, aren’t you?” He strokes that spot, leans in. “Admit it, you got hot with two alphas fighting over your little cunt.”

“No.”

“Yes.” The gloat’s almost too much and anger surges, loathing too, mixing with the lust. And he laughs. “Hate me, Angel, but you want me to fuck you here and now, don’t you?”

I want to saynoagain, I do, but it refuses to come.

He nudges the hair from the wig away from my ear and presses his magic mouth against it. “You want it, I know. But, Liz, when you sing, tell me, do you want those men who pant and watch your every move, all with hard and aching dicks in their pants to touch you? Have you? Taste you?”

I turn my head, and our lips are almost touching, and I’m infused with him. His smell, his presence, his heat. “And if I do?”

“You don’t.”

“I fantasize about them all.”

His growl runs through my veins, and I shiver with desire, wanting to rub up against him. We might be alone in here except for Reaper, because no one else exists. Not one person other than them.

“Thank fuck your honest streak appeals because lying isn’t your forte. There are exactly three men you want and two of them are in this room. And you want me no matter how often you wish you didn’t.”

Then he kisses me again.

I expect the onslaught but this time it’s light, slow, the kind of kiss designed to slay with stealth. When he lifts his head, his hand’s moving again.

Dante goes slow, parting my folds, running his fingers along my inner lips down to my ass and then up to my clit.

There’s a part of me that’s screaming, wanting to know ifeveryone can see, and another part that doesn’t care, that likes this wild exhibitionism.

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