Page 43 of Where Angels Fall

It’s unbearable.

My thighs tremble, muscles fluttering like they’ve forgotten how to function. I feel empty and painfully full at once, hollow and stretched and desperate in the same breath.

“I think my little angel needs to come,” I hear Ash huff a laugh. “Don’t you, baby? You wanna come?” He taunts me in a mocking voice.

Above me, the light blurs, my vision swimming as I try to steady my breathing. I swallow hard, throat tight, frustration burning behind my eyes. The table digs into my spine as my body lies there, heavy and weightless at the same time.

I turn my head just enough to find him.

Ash stands over me now, his presence crushing. From this angle, he looks larger somehow, his shadow cutting across my body as his gaze drags over me with slow, deliberate intent. Not rushed. Not hungry.

Patient. Calm, composed, completely in control while I feel stripped bare in every way that matters.

His eyes flick to Leon.

“Get on the table,” he says casually.

Leon stills for half a second before his face splits into a shit-eating grin. Boots scrape against the floor as he circles closer, the table creaking as he jumps on between my legs, just out of the way of Ash’s view.

He unzips his pants, his lean muscles flexing as he does. He doesn’t have a shirt on under his vest, wearing his uniform like a fashion statement. Pulling out his long cock, my eyes widen. What is in the water at this club? Everyone seems to be massive. He grins when he sees me eyeing it in his fist, confidence and cockiness oozing out of him like pheromones.

“Matt, take her face,” Ash mutters, and my eyes flick up, watching Matt loom over me, his own thick and hard cock in his hand, ready to go.

They wait. Wait for their leaders’ orders.

“Use her as you want,” he adds. “Just don’t let her come. I want her begging to me like I’m her God by the time that happens.”

My throat tightens. Shit. Can I do this for another round?

Leon dives first, his cock slipping easily into me after being played with and used. I’m so wet that I can hear him sliding in and out of me. He dusts his thumb softly over my clit, and the friction feels like heaven.

Twisting my head, my eyes flick up to Matt as he waits patiently. Nerves flutter in my stomach at the idea of taking him into my mouth. He’s so damn good at doing it to me, how can I live up to the expectation? But my mouth waters when I look at him straining towards me, and I take him into my mouth, sucking him in as deep as I can go.

His grunt spurs me on, my hand coming up to work the length that I can’t fit into my mouth, and I watch his jaw clench tightly. Lifting his hand, his fingers skim through my hair, moving my head up and down on his own shaft.

“Fuck yes, kid. Suck it,” he murmurs softly, his voice nothing but a rasp. “Such soft lips. They wrap around my cock so pretty.”

The praise sends a shiver through me, especially when Leon keeps touching me, teasing me just enough to keep me right on the edge. My body betrays me, the tingling building fast, threatening to tip me over.

I try to hide it; I really do. But even muffled by Matt’s cock, the sounds I make give me away.

Leon grins down at me, hips settling into a lazy rhythm, before he suddenly pulls himself out. My hands reach for him, silently begging him to keep going.

“Your cunt is perfect, gorgeous,” he purrs, voice like candy wrapped in sex. “But I prefer my head to still be attached to my body by the end of the night.”

When my eyes find Ash, he looks delighted by my suffering. I’d scream if my mouth wasn’t already full.

Leon slides back in slowly, before pulling all the way out, giving me everything and nothing at the same time. Languidly pushing in and then drawing out completely. It’s agonizing. Literal torture. And he damn well knows it.

His hand drifts lower, almost indulgent, fingers sinking into the dark curls above his cock. His fingers linger there for a moment before sliding his hand upward along the sharp line of his happy trail. The movement is slow and deliberate, all confidence and self-possession, his palm skimming over smooth skin as he gathers his vest with it.

It exposes him inch by inch, those immaculate V lines cutting down towards his hips, his stomach taut and lean rather than broad, muscle defined by movement instead of brute force. He’s smaller than the others, younger in the way his body holds itself, all wiry strength and careless beauty. Just golden, glowing skin covered in patchwork tattoos, flexing as he lifts the vest higher.

That’s when I realise, he’s not even looking at me.

As he moves, as he uses me, his attention is somewhere else entirely. His gaze fixed past me, toward the other side of the table. Like I’m only part of the scene, not the focus of it. That knowledge makes my skin heat with lust, a thrill stirring inside of me.

Because I’m doing the same to him. Using him... while thinking about another devil. The devil who is currently torturing me with his men.