Page 15 of His Prize
It helped nothing that his constant, tender caressing threw me into more than a few aftershock orgasms. It felt so wrong for my body and soul to be shuddering with pleasure and contentment while my mind still felt sick and desolate.
“Whatever it is,” my prince said, softly kissing my forehead, “it’ll be okay. I swear it will.”
I shook my head, struggling again, but the futility of it all was too much.
“You don’t know who I am,” I said. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
He caught his breath, and for a moment, I felt the line.
Right before he crossed it.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice serious, like he wasn’t playing a character at all anymore, he was just…him. “What happened?”
I gulped. Rule number one of the Dark Fantasies Club was that you left your everyday, vanilla life behind you. Discussing who you were in your daily life was off-limits.
But I needed him to know I wasn’t the good boy he thought I was.
“I nearly caused hundreds of people to die,” I sobbed, giving up.
“How?” he asked, calmly stroking my arm and my side. When I didn’t answer, he repeated, “Darby, how?”
His use of my name had me catching my breath and glancing up at him. I hadn’t been aware that our names had been given to the alphas chosen to win us at the auction. It wasn’t really a secret. I used my real name on the app when I played. But that tiny rip in the fantasy was all I needed to tear it all open.
“I work as an air traffic controller,” I said, tears streaming down my messy face. “It’s a high-stress job and one omegas used to be banned from. I fought to get that job. I worked so hard to prove myself.”
“I’m sure you’re very good at it,” my prince said, his voice so calm and exuding so much authority.
I shook my head, focusing on the sensation of his cock still buried deep within me as a reminder that I was nothing, I was a vessel, a tool.
“I used to be good at it,” I said. “I used to love the adrenaline and the excitement of organizing and directing all those planes, in the air and on the ground. It’s all about split-second analysis, prioritizing flights, and responding to unpredictable factors. There’s a schedule, but flights don’t always arrive or leave when they’re supposed to. Every minute brings something new and important.”
“I’m sure it takes a clever person with a good head on their shoulders,” my prince said, cuddling me a little closer.
That show of kindness pushed me over the edge again, and I wept, “I cracked.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, so sympathetic it made my tears flow harder.
It was almost like we were a real couple and I’d come home from a bad day in the tower to the comfort of his unconditional love.
“It was raining. A lot of flights were delayed or otherwise off-schedule,” I told him. “And for some reason, the other controllers working that day were all alphas. Those guys hate that I was appointed supervisor above them. They were seething with resentment, which meant I had to handle everything. They wanted me to fail, and I did.”
“Whoa, whoa,” my prince said, his soothing touch stopping for a moment. “You’re part of a team, and your team members weren’t doing their part?”
I grimaced. “I was the supervisor on duty. It was my job to keep order.”
“And it’s a team’s job to play as a team,” he said.
I shook my head. “Everything around me was crazy, and then I slipped. I sent a landing flight to the wrong runway, nearly causing a collision with another plane waiting to take off. If the pilot of the plane on the tarmac had been thirty feet to the left, the planes would have impacted and hundreds of people would have died.”
“But they didn’t collide,” my prince said, rubbing my sore back again as his knot started to go down. “Both planes continued on safely, right?”
“Yes,” I admitted, pinching my face. “But I snapped. I pushed back from my desk, threw off my headset, and just sobbed and sobbed. I had a complete meltdown. The regional supervisor had to come in and scrape me off the ceiling.”
“Did your team members finally pick up the slack and do their jobs?” my prince asked. “The jobs they should have done to begin with?”
“Yes, but I was the team leader,” I cried. “I was reprimanded and put on mental health leave.”
Saying that aloud was withering. I’d fought so hard for that job, and I’d screwed it up. I still didn’t know if they’d let me back in the control tower after cracking the way I had. I was probably doomed to a desk job at the FAA for the rest of my life.
