Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Dante
“ Y ou wanted me?”
Angel stands there in front of me in my office, a vision. Sullied, the way she should be.
She doesn’t need fucking bites for me to know she’s been taken. Not just by Knight, who got her virginity, but also by Reaper.
Knight doesn’t bother to hide it.
She can’t, either. She wears everything on her sleeve, including her longing for and loathing of me, things that turn me the fuck on. The filthy, disgusting things I want to do to her that’ll have her crawling back for more are depraved and divine. But I’m not going to.
And fucking Reaper… the only reason I know he touched her, had sex with her, is because of her. She looks at him like he’s her personal savior, like she wants to nurture his soul by fucking him senseless. I’ve seen the look before.
I’d dismiss it, but there’s a depth to the expression, like maybe she can see into him.
We’re meant to work on finding out how to rid her of the fucking mark or turn it to our advantage, and yes, we’re also trying to find out why the Council is so interested in this particular omega.
There are others.
So, why her?
Beyond her evident attributes.
And obviously, we want to know what the fuck Ghost has to do with any of this.
“Dante?”
I flick my gaze at her. She’s so fucking gorgeous. All that dark hair, those big eyes, perfect lips, banging fucking body. And she doesn’t even know it.
It’s a powerful mix.
Add in that angelic voice…
She’s a commodity.
A potent one.
And while she’s here, I want her to earn money, for us. For her. A win-win, as they say.
I stand by her obeying us—me—or she’s out. She knows we’ll protect her. I’m just going to pull her fucking strings.
Up on the stage is perfect. Patrons can look at her, but they can’t touch. They’ll want to.
They’ll pay to see her in skimpy outfits, maybe do a G-rated strip tease. I like that idea, titillate and never give them what they want with Lizette.
They get the other girls, but not my Angel and certainly not her wares, nothing but a glimpse.
Except they get the gift of her voice.
The more I think about it, the better it is.
Fuck, since the first time she walked into the club, the male patrons couldn’t stop staring. I knew she was a goldmine. Now that I know she can sing, truly sing, that makes her absolutely priceless.
As long as no one fucking touches her.
“Dante?” she presses again with a touch of anger .
I don’t bother answering. She’ll wait.
I haven’t touched her since that kiss before her deflowering. And her pull is just as strong. Stronger.
Part of the magic of my Angel.
If it works on me, and I’m not sure I like her, it’ll work on the customers.
I don’t need to understand my wanting her beyond knowing her gifts will earn us money. Money, I get.
“Sing.”
Angel frowns. “I can’t—” She stops. “I’m supposed to be cleaning the bar.”
Now I frown. “Who the fuck told you to do that?”
“Me. You won’t let me work that often on the floor.”
“I won’t let you be a fuck toy for customers. Not the same. Your punishment is done. Sing .”
“I don’t. I-I don’t sing in public, I mean.”
I smile, and she draws back a little.
“You will,” I say. “You’re a shit waitress, so you’ll get up and sing. Or strip. But if you strip, I’ll have to blind all the customers, and that’s just bad business. So…singing it is.”
“H-How often?”
I think about it. “As many nights as your greedy black heart desires. But I’m thinking at least three times a week.”
She nods and half-looks around, like she might find an escape hatch and make a run for it. She’s out of luck there. “If I have to sing, I can do one night.”
This fucking girl. If she keeps it up, I might like her, and then the world will probably end.
I tap my foot and ask, “Let me guess, that one night will be the quietist one?”
“Yes,” she says eagerly. “Then I can just wait tables, bus, whatever the other nights?—”
“Oh, sweet little Angel.” I pause. “You’ll be on the stage. Performing. All the nights that I command it so. You’re going to be up here. ”
“No.”
“Isn’t there a rule about obeying me without fucking question?” My words are quiet. Deadly.
“Dante, please…I’ve never sung in public before.”
“You need to pay your keep, to pay for your protection. You won’t sing? Then you’ll strip.”
“No.” She heads to the door.
I’m on my feet fast and I slam it shut, keeping my hand on it. “The answer’s yes.”
“I’m not stripping,” she says, looking up as unwanted desire sparks in her eyes.
I feel it too. Cock hardening and the nasty thoughts coming in fast. Fuck.
“Good. Because I’m telling you to sing.”
“And strip.”
“No, I’m not actually asking you to fucking strip, Angel.” I stop. “Not much.”
“Let me out.”
I grab her hand and open the door, dragging her up the stairs and into the club. Darcy’s doing inventory and two deltas are cleaning.
“Everyone out,” I snarl.
The two deltas scram, but Darcy just looks at me.
“You too.”
She crosses her arms. “Leave the kid alone.”
“Liz is fine. Aren’t you, Angel?” I give her hand a squeeze.
She takes a beat, then says, “Yes.”
“Now, go, Darcy. I need the space.” I turn my back on her, knowing she’ll go and motion to the stage. “Get the fuck up there and sing.”
“N-No.” Lizette trembles but she stands her ground. “I need music. And what’s this about stripping, even a little?”
“G-rated.” I pick up the tablet and go to the karaoke music site. “Do you know Queen of Pain?”
“No. ”
I hand her the device. “Get up there, press play, and sing along. And G-rated is taking off some pieces. Maybe down to silk, boy-cut shorts and a balconette. You’d be covered. Nothing showing. I don’t want men ogling you.”
“Just you?”
She’s gotten some balls since I fucked her face. “No,” I drawl, going around the bar to get a drink. She looks at the bottle so I pour her one. “I’m fair. Reaper and Knight can ogle you, too.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I ignore the fucking sarcasm. Instead, I cross the floor and hand her a drink. “Courage from a bottle.”
She downs it, and grimaces.
I nod to the stage. “Go. And you can keep your clothes on. This is your chance to make money, prove you can be the hidden gem, the star attraction.”
Settling back at one of the tables, I set my drink down as she presses play. There’s a microphone that isn’t used, but more for show. This time it’s on and I’ve got it and the tablet tapped into the sound system.
She starts to sing, really sing, and her voice is utterly perfect, each note. But as she gets into it, her voice changes, loosens, becomes a soaring thing that’s alive. Even without moving, she’s mesmerizing. The music takes her, and soon she’s moving, her hips swaying, and I’m lost in her.
When the song ends, I can’t breathe.
I’m about to say something when she picks something else. It’s sexy, guitar and string heavy, and she adjusts the volume and then starts to sing.
The song is fucking hot. About sex, rejection, denial, lust, and love out of reach. A woman crying, losing her mind, getting revenge.
I pick all that up in the first verse.
Lizette jumps off the stage and the power of her voice, her presence, floors me. She’s full of angst and madness, heat and sex. The sound she produces wells from every part of her, it’s velvet in sound, and dynamite in strength.
As Angel sings, she sashays up to me, crooning of things she hasn’t experienced but she makes me believe she has. And then she pushes me back, straddles me and gives me a low, undulating lap dance that almost has me coming in my fucking trousers.
Her ass brushes my thighs, and she dips in, breasts whispering against me as the damp heat of her cunt rubs over my cock.
And I’m fucking powerless.
If she fucking does this to anyone else, I’ll rip their heart and entrails out.
And I want her to do this to me over and over again.
The music ends and she’s still on me. The air vibrates, she vibrates, and all I can smell is her rich gardenia scent, intertwined with mine, making it even more compelling.
She runs her hand over my beard and it snaps me out of it. I snatch her wrist. Our eyes meet. Fire cascades and her pulse’s beat is mine.
Then I move, hauling her up and we stumble over table and chairs, knocking them aside, and I drag her to the area near the bar, dark, private, leading to the locked office.
It’s a silence so full of noise and awareness that drowns us as I push her against the wall.
“And here we fucking are again,” I say, gripping her throat, squeezing so she struggles. “You’re all full of dangerous ideas.”
She smacks at me, and I hold her a little longer until I see it, something that changes from panic to lust, and then I let her go.
Lizette starts to melt forward, but I shake my head, stepping back. “You fucking touched without permission.”
“I—”
“If you want to touch, you ask. If you want to come, you ask.” I tilt my head, observing all the changes, the wild beat to her pulse in her throat, the way the mark flares darker, how her tits rise and fall, and her thighs press together.
She’s wet. Soaked from how she felt as she rubbed on my cock. And the thought makes my dick jerk and leak a little precum. Fuck me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on.
That’s a lie.
Outside of Angel , I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on. She’s a fucking one-stop fun ride of erotic intent.
We don’t make it to even the office door.
“Now I think of it, I need to punish you. Chain you up, get out my whips.”
I don’t keep them here. They’re at one of the places we use for sex, and at our pack building. The women I bring there are ones I tend to fuck on a regular basis. I don’t fuck in this place.
Until her.
What is it about this pretty piece of omega?
She’s got powers.
She’s dangerous.
And I fucking want her.
I trace a line between her tits and down under her skirt to touch the cotton panties. I like her in them. There’s something perverse about her wearing something so plain, so fuck you about them. I think I’ll buy her more. Just plain Jane panties that border on ugly. They’ll make peeling them off her hotter than hell.
Or pulling them down to beat her fucking ass blue. “I’ve got paddles with holes in it. One in hard leather, the other in wood. The holes help bring the pain home. I think since you’ve been fucking the other two alphas, coming all over them, that I’ll beat you with those.”
“No.”
I smile nastily. “Yes.” I lean in and breathe out, “Hard.”
And the little perfect slut moans.
“But since I don’t have them, I’m going to punish you this way. ”
I unbuckle and pull off my belt, dragging her arms behind her and binding them, down to the wrists.
That moan washes over me, another fucking song. X-rated, siren hot, and dangerous.
I spin her so she’s facing the wall and I pull her hips to me. She pushes the side of her face into the plaster, and I just release myself and push her panties to the side. Then I plunge into her tight, hot, velvet depths.
It’s like coming fucking home, and I know I’m going to end up knotting in her. I’ve been fantasizing about it. About rutting her. Knotting is dangerous for me because it unleashes the feral. I don’t need her heat to go into rut. I just need to fucking want her like it’s the only thing in the world. Like I need to implant my seed in her to state my ownership.
And it scares me.
But she’s on the pills she needs, pills to stop accidents, to stop her heat, to let her be normal and not a slave to her physiology.
I pound into her, going deep, holding her ass cheeks, and I know I want that next. I push a finger in and she moans, whispering, “ Yes. ”
“Did Reaper get this?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?” I slam into her, balls slapping her, and it’s so fucking good, holding back’s getting harder and harder.
Her body sucks at me, the tight fit, wrapping me up, not wanting to let me go, and welcoming me with each thrust. She’s fucking so hot. I want it to hurt so good, feel so good. I need to own her, every inch, make her into mine.
“Yes.”
“Did you fucking come?”
“Yes.”
I slam in harder and then I lean over her and bring my hands down on hers, thrusting all the way in. Then deep, small thrusts that make her gasp with every motion .
“Tell me you want me more, Angel. That you crave this depravity. Do it,” I say.
She half sobs as I slam in.
“Do it.”
“I need it. I crave it,” she says with a gasp. “Are you happy?”
“No. Do you want to come?”
“Yesss…” Her hiss wraps around me as I grab her bound wrists and thrust in again. “Yesss.”
“Just like you came for Knight?” I push my mouth to her ear. “You know you can’t come now, don’t you? I’m not going to fucking stop. I’m going to come in you hard, flood you and then feed you my cum, scoop it out with my fingers and stick it down your throat, make you suck my fucking fingers clean. And then? I’ll fuck you again and again and again until you beg to be whipped and paddled.”
“S-Stop…” Her voice wobbles. “You have to stop.”
I suck her ear. “Why?”
“B-Because I’m not strong like you, I can’t stop myself from coming. I can’t.”
“You can. You just don’t want to because you want that paddle, you want to feel the burn, own the pain and you’ll come then, too.”
She’s moaning, crying, her ass rising up to meet me, grinding into me, and I pull back, slam into her once more as I reach around and twist her clit with a vicious, well-timed tweak, one that breaks her, and she shatters, coming all over my cock.
I pull out and she falls to the floor.
“Just where you fucking should be, Angel.” I unstrap her. “Hands and fucking knees.” I look at her, pumping my cock slowly in my hand, not to keep my erection, but to offset the urge to come. To slow down the roll to the inevitable.
I wasn’t planning this, but now? Yeah, I’m going to make it last .
I fucking love denial, but I’m not going to force it on her. It would be a losing battle and besides, there’s a time to withhold orgasm, and a time to threaten and yet give them what they crave. This is the latter.
“Suck my cock, Angel.”
She comes up on her knees fast, hunger bright in her eyes, almost feral, and I’m pushed to the edge. I see something on her hands but her mouth is on me too fast to speak. And I’m lost in the pleasure of her mouth, her lack of skill is morphing into skill as she remembers what I like. And she goes at me, in sucking forceful thrusts with her head.
Oh, fuck. She’s fucking me with her mouth. It’s insane. It’s more than I can bear, and I grab her and hold her, hammering deep and coming down her throat.
Then I haul her up, and turn her hands, palms up, when I see them properly. The scrapes.
Fury sears through every fiber of my being. “What the fuck, Angel? Who did this to you?”