“Whatever you say,” he growled. Then I used what I’d learned from those tatted fingers on screen. I mirrored the rhythm, the grip, the desperate hunger. I wanted to be the one taking for once. I wanted to see an Alpha—even a kind one like Uriel—lose his mind because ofme.
I flattened my tongue against his girth, the gag reflex was a challenge I welcomed. I wanted to be stretched, full. As he groaned, his hand finding the back of my head, a small fire lit in my belly. It wasn’t love. It was reclamation.
When I pulled up, I grabbed his thigh for balance and flicked my tongue against his slit. He inhaled sharply and I repeated the action. His chest rose and fell a little faster as I slid down his cock, taking more. He tensed and I grabbed his knot, squeezing the way I remember Dane did.
“Oh, fuck,” Uriel groaned.
My cheeks flushed, and I clenched my legs together at the thought ofhim. I did it again before jerking him while I sucked his tip.
“Harder,” he pleaded.
“Mm,” I hummed, making his hips buck. I pulled off with a pop. “Say,please.”
“For fuck’s sake,please.” There was a slight whine to his tone and I loved it. I thrust myself down on his cock, feeling him in the back of my throat. His hand gathered my hair, and I wish he’d pull it. I slid up his length, saliva slid down my lip as I bobbed on his cock, taking him ‘til I couldn’t. Only when I gagged did I relax my throat and force him deeper.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to come down your throat,” he warned. In response, I gave him what he wanted, I squeezed his knot as hard as I could. And he came.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he groaned.
My gaze flickered up, and I watched as his head lolled to the side. His body trembling as he emptied himself down my throat. There was something about bringing a man pleasure. I dug my nails into his thigh when his thrusts slowed. I bounced up and down, taking him deep as he twitched. Curses flew from his lips as I sucked every last drop. When I was done, I sat up, flipped down the mirror and swiped the saliva on my chin. I closed it, feeling a strange, hollow sense of victory and turned back to him. His eyes were on me, a smile spreading across his face as his eyelids lowered. His cock was still out, and I giggled at the absurdity. We’d gone from talking for a few days to me sucking his dick.
What a time to be alive.
“Your turn,” he whispered, his gaze dark with promise. The victory vanished, and I knew in that moment, I wouldn’t.
“No,” I said, my voice small. “Not tonight. I’m… I’m not ready for that.” I braced for the anger. For the “Broken Omega” insults and “I don’t like being told no” mood swing, but Uriel just nodded. He tucked himself away before looking at me.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. There was a heartbreaking amount of respect in his tone, a kindness that weighed on my chest.
I blinked, the armor I usually kept bolted to my skin starting to feel heavy. I looked at his lips, then back to those eyes that held nothing but patience.
“I just had you in my mouth,” I teased, my voice gaining a bit of its strength back. If he was going to be gentle, I could afford to be brave. “I think you can kiss me.”
“But do youwantme to?” he murmured. The need for consent foreign to me.
“Yes,” I whispered. It was the truth. I hadn’t wanted to kiss him when we started this, but now, I craved it. As he reachedacross the console, his hand coming up to cradle the back of my neck with a tenderness that made my throat ache, I let myself go. Under the safety of the tinted windows, for the first time in years, I almost believed I was okay.
Exorcist
The make-out session with Uriel left me jumpy. He promised to call, and I gave him a non-committal smile. He wanted a partner; I wanted an exorcist.
The moment I walked through the door, the “Uriel high” died. My phone dinged in my pocket as I closed the door, but I couldn’t bring myself to look. My mind was already locking down, trying to prevent the inevitable slide into the past.
The lights were off, the silence heavy and judging. Everything in this house reminded me of him: the chair where he used to lounge, the walls he’d bashed my head against, the floors I’d spent on my knees scrubbing my own blood out of the wood. As I tiptoed past the kitchen, the sharp scent of bleach mixed with old grease. The smell hit me like a physical blow. The hallway blurred, and reality and past collided.
I started up the stairs, my heart heavy, my hands trembling. I stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden memories, but still, I tried to remain in the present.
The mental cloud returned, hovering over my head. A light drizzle, a sign that I needed to get back to my room. With every step, the clouds darkened, and the rain came down harder. My chest ached, throat tightening.
Step. Amos’ laugh bounced off the walls.
Step. A phantom hand wrapped around my ankle.
I wasn’t in a safe stairway anymore. I was running from him. There was a sharp yank, followed by the loss of gravity. My face slammed into the wood as it rushed up to meet me. The broken Omega was screaming, her voice raw as she was dragged toward the basement.
I wheezed, my vision blurring. I scrambled the rest of the way, lunging toward my door. My fingers fumbled with the lock, a frantic, metallic clicking until the door finally gave way. I slammed it shut and collapsed against the wood, my lungs burning for air. I slid down, wrapping my arms protectively around myself.
He wasn’t here anymore.
