Page 8 of The Devil Takes
“If I’m not on them, I don’t…” Fuck. I didn’t even know what would happen. The worst case scenario was pretty much my everyday reality. “Dad doesn’t like it,” I eventually settled on. That seemed the simplest way to explain it without diving into details.
“Your father forces you?”
“I don’t know if I’d say force.” Except, it was kinda true, wasn’t it? Before Dad had chucked the pills at my head, I hadn’t ever thought about it. Part of that was because I’d always just assumed I’d pop my knot at sixteen, like my brothers and my dad had. Hell, Dad was always raving about the fact that even Mom had been at least a beta. It was incredibly uncommon for an omega to be born into a family without one.
“If you are not being forced to take them and you dislike them, then why do it?”
Jee-sus.
Talk about beating a dead horse with a stick. (That was how that saying goes, right?)
“Jee-sus, dude. Just let me suck your dick.” I had never in all my fucking life thought that I would say those words. Ever. And yet, here I was—panting for it, nuzzling against him, begging for a taste of the salty-sweet skin of his cock even though his questions made me want to smash my head against the nearest surface.
“You will touch me when I say you can touch me,” Haden said.
I was dumb, so I didn’t listen.
His pants didn’t have a zipper, but they did have a row of shiny ivory buttons. In a surprising feat of dexterity, I flicked them all open in quick succession. He was wearing underwear. Boo.
Staring at the white trail of hair that led beneath the hem of his boxers, I had an out-of-body moment. My hands looked shaky and cold. My knuckles all fucked from the wind, chapped and dry. I was literally naked at the back of the fucking graveyard, thirsting after an actual demon-devil-thing’s dick. What would happen if someone passed by and saw what I was about to do? Then again, that hadn’t stopped me from getting naked and sitting here for four hours. So really, why would I let it stop me from getting fucked?
Priorities.
Haden made a noise, but it wasn’t soft like the ones before. Playfulness disappeared as he pulled my hair tight, forcing my head back. Tingling all over, I realized he was being gentle before. This hurt. The good kind, and the bad. I gasped.
“If you want to touch me, you need to be obedient,” Haden’s words were a rumbled threat.
“Okay.” I was stupid, not suicidal, so I agreed. Then there was silence as Haden scrutinized my face. His lips had pulled thin, his eyes glimmering with darkness as he traced them slowly down, down, down my body. My cock jumped.
“You want to be touched, yes?” Haden confirmed. He had this weird kind of voice. Rumbly, yet soft. Not too low. Not too high, either. Like it couldn’t make up its mind. Like it was an illusion too—just like his shadows.
“Yes.” Obviously.
“Have you been touched before?”
God, more talking. When would it end?
I didn’t want to talk anymore, I was all talked out.
Obedient, I reminded myself. Or you won’t get what you want.
“No.” Even I knew I sounded petulant.
“Have you been fucked before?” The word “fuck” on Haden’s cultured tongue sent a whirl of want through my body. Fuck sounded sinful when he said it. A word with a purpose. A promise.
“No.”
“Do you desire to be fucked?”
“Oh, fuck yes.” The way my voice wobbled—the words barely more than a gasp—gave away my enthusiasm. The heat inside my body was creeping closer to its peak. It wrapped me in honey from the inside, my limbs tingling, the need growing stronger with every labored breath.
Haden’s scent wasn’t enough anymore.
I needed to taste.
I needed to feel.
I needed—