Page 20 of Touched By Sin
My body sings to his tune. I slide my gaze down and my lips part at what I see: Dariana gazing up at me, her tongue lapping at the desire that soaks my tight entrance. Daemon snaps his fingers, and the other girls walk up to us and stop on either side of Dariana. Their hands squeeze my breasts and slide my dress up and over my head.
It lands on the floor, and the cool air licks at my skin before their warm hands burn me up with firm strokes. My nipples are tweaked and pinched. Fingers slide into my mouth and I’m ordered to suck. They praise me and call me a good girl. I’m sensation, want, and need. The fingers in my mouth slide down my throat, causing me to gag.
“Do you like it, boys? Do you like seeing her come apart at our touch?” Dariana sucks on my pussy lips, slapping my cunt with her hand. The sharp sting is so sudden and unexpected that my back arches off the couch.
“You’ll never see home again,” one of the girls whispers tauntingly in my ear. “Never feel the sun on your face again, and you’ll never know the approval of your God.” The next pinch on my nipple hurts. “You’re just a dirty little slut—a whore to discard when the boys grow bored. You’ll never last.” Her warm breath teases my ear. She grabs my face and brings my lips to hers. Then she darts her tongue out, sliding it over my bottom lip. Her cruelty barely registers.
How can it, when I’m melting into a puddle of want? My pussy pulses and my nipples tingle and ache. This is the highest fall and the sweetest death. Dariana pushes her fingers into me and laps at my clit faster and harder, her pace quickening. The fight is lost. I can’t win against them and their torturous assault on my body. The many hands, intent on shoving me underwater and drowning me in this sea of pleasure.
The air leaves my lungs, and I fall apart with a silent scream as the orgasm rips through me with such force that I’ll never again see the light shimmer on the surface. I’m not sorry; let me be tossed on stormy seas for a taste of this.
“Leave her,” Daemon orders.
Rough hands slap my cheek and grip my jaw, ordering me to open my eyes. Daemon stares down at me, his eyes burning with something dark and nefarious. “Do you still wish to return to your precious Eden?”
What’s the point of fighting him? I’m too satiated from the receding orgasm. “No,” I reply honestly. My lips are dry. I wet them, reaching for his belt buckle, but he grabs my wrist in a tight, painful grip.
“If you want my cock, you’ll have to beg for it.”
Ripping my hand free, I crane my neck, looking him in the eye. “You’ll never hear me beg.”
“Then you’ll never have my cock.” He walks back to the armchair, sits down, and pats his thigh. “Dariana.”
One tap on his leg—that’s all it takes for her to hurry over like she’s waited all night for the chance to fuck him. The jealousy inside churns my stomach, and I snap my gaze to the fire but soon look back when he grabs her ass and spreads her over his lap. His eyes are on me while he kisses her deeply and thoroughly, tastingmeon her tongue. The fire in his eye—the sparkle of a challenge—stirs something dark inside me. I don’t look away. Not when he wants to see me break. I keep watching as she unbuckles him.
Rising up on her knees, she lowers herself back down on his length. And I don’t look away, even when I taste something foul on my tongue. My heart could tear into a million shredded pieces, and I still won’t let him see me hurt. Or so I tell myself until it becomes too much to watch her bounce on him.
My body shoots off the couch without my permission, his dark eyes following me as I flee the room.
* * *
“You look rough,”Ronan says the next morning when he enters the kitchen to find me sitting at the island with a plate of fruit in front of me. I ignore his comment and say, “How come I haven’t seen you eat?”
He’s shirtless, his pants hanging low on his hips. His tattoos draw my attention. They stand out against his skin, complementing the sharp lines of his rippling muscles. When he turns, I scan my eyes over his black wings.
“We don’t eat food like you do. There’s fruit in the cupboard because Daemon ordered the staff to pick you some yesterday.”
There’s so much to digest in that one sentence. “The staff?”
He turns back around and leans against the counter, watching me bite into a juicy green apple. “Daemon’s father has servants. You don’t see them because they keep out of our way.”
I consider this as I scan my eyes over the kitchen. It’s a big, luxurious house, and he has servants, too? His father must be a powerful man.
“What do you eat if you don’t eat fruit?”
Ronan’s smile takes on a darker edge, and he pushes off the counter, slowly walking toward me. “Why do you think we have fangs?”
I stop chewing, sensing a shift in the air.
“We don’t have fangs for aesthetic reasons.” He plants his hands on the island and leans in close. “We feed on blood.”
My eyes widen and I open my mouth to respond, but Alaric enters the kitchen. Dressed in nothing but boxers, he looks delicious. There’s too much skin on display for me to think straight. I never noticed boys like this back home. We swooned over wings, not bodies. My cheeks burn bright red.
“Our little angel here is curious about what we eat,” Ronan says to Alaric.
The man in question joins us at the island, leaning forward on his elbows. “Yeah? What do you think we eat, little angel? Besides pussy.”
I blush even harder. They were up all night, pleasuring the girls. I could hear them through the walls, and it’s why I look like a train wreck this morning. Lack of sleep tends to do that to you.
