Chapter 4
Lila
Three Days Later
Three days. Three fucking days, and I'm already about to crack. Rising from my bed, I stretch and move, loosening muscles that prefer to just stay tight. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'm bigger than I thought and just kept pretending to be small to keep the illusion up.
Some days, it's so easy just to go along with Dad's delusion that I'm still his little girl, and any minute now, Mom will pop out from the kitchen with a grilled cheese sandwich cut into triangles just for me.
Someday, however, I need to shatter this pipe dream of his and assert myself as the woman I'm becoming, the one who can no longer fit in this fucking child’s bed.
With a soft groan, I sit back down on the bed and cup my head in my hands. Or I could just find somewhere to live. Move out. Get my own place. Get out from under all this pressure.
Jobs. That's what I need. I just need to get a good job. One that will work around my school schedule. But then… I still need to pay the part of tuition my scholarship didn't cover.
Damn it all. Could I just do student loans? No. I tried that when I first applied. Dad and Linda make too much and they're still insisting I'm their dependent even though I'm nearly twenty. Fuck.
A frustrated growl rips from my throat as I pad across the floor and into the bathroom. There's got to be something. Some way. I've got to find a way to make money.
A small memory niggles at the back of my brain, tickling it into action. There were omegas going to the nearby rut clinic to pay their tuition, I believe. Somehow, they had enough to also live pretty well. I'm sure if I'm frugal, I could do the same.
No.
I cut the thought off as soon as it enters.
That's not an option. Besides, I'm sure they wouldn't want a virgin like me fumbling it all up.
As I understand it, the omegas already had boyfriends before signing in.
They knew exactly what they were getting into.
They knew exactly what they were offering.
How in the hell can I satisfy an Alpha when I can't even get a fucking dildo inside my pussy?
Why would they want someone like me when I can barely take two fingers without my body clenching up like a vice?
Yanking the bag over, I rummage around until I find the small cock. It still looks enormous even now.
I bite down on my lower lip as I wrap my fingers around it and grip it in my palm. It doesn't sound like Dad's up yet, but I can't be too careful. Sliding over to my bedroom door, I lock it, then secure myself in the bathroom.
As I move to the other door, I hesitate as I look inside Nate's room. Where mine is all delicate, frilly girlishness, his is dark and masculine. Somehow, Dad didn't have a problem painting over this room even though Mom painted it herself as well.
Perhaps it's because she didn't spend any time on it. Not really. Not the same as mine.
From my hazy memories, it was just a slap of light blue onto the bare walls.
Now, it's a darker shade. Navy, almost. Dad didn't put up much of a fight when Nate said he wanted to change it out, but then, he probably wanted to accommodate the new family joining ours.
It wouldn't be a good first start to refuse such a basic request.
Dragging in a deep breath, I struggle to find anything of her in here. Until she died, this was Mom's office. Spacious, to be sure, but Dad didn't care. Anything for her. Now, there's no proof she even existed.
Old baseball posters and sports paraphernalia dot the walls where she once kept art supplies and paintings. I'm not sure where those are now. I know he donated several to battered omega shelters and hospitals and such.
In some ways, it hurts more that she's been erased from this room, yet I'm supposed to remember her every time I step into mine.
On the other hand, I'm grateful to see that it's not changed since Nate left for basic training.
In some weird, twisted way, we're in this trauma together, bonded in very different ways.
With a wistful sigh, I close the door to his room and lock it. Now, more than ever, I need to get away. There's too much hurt here, too much sorrow that tries to stay buried but can't. I refuse to stay locked in the past.
If that means I have to whore myself out to strangers just to escape, then that's what I have to do. But first, I need to actually prepare myself. Shoving all thoughts of grief and frustration out of my mind, I start the shower and sit at the edge of the tub as the water runs.
Dad can't say anything if he thinks I'm washing up. Pulling out my phone, I open up one of my books and start skimming for a hot sex scene. Now that I'm at home, I don't dare chance pulling up porn and him finding out. I'd never live it down.
Worse, he'd probably force me home and keep such a close eye on me that I wouldn't have the chance to just leave. Ugh. I hate that everything is so complicated. My fingers shake as I scroll through, desperate to find a bit of smut to make this easier.
After a minute or so, I come across a steamy scene with an Alpha dominating some poor omega secretary.
Poor indeed. That bitch is right where she wants to be—bent over his desk with her skirt hiked up, panties ripped off, begging him to fuck her harder.
As I devour the words on the page, I reach between my thighs and stroke myself.
It doesn't take long at all before my fingertips are coated with arousal, making it easier to glide over my clit. Even though I'm nowhere near in earshot of my dad, I keep my moans soft, just barely under my breath.
I can't have him find me like this. Not now. Not when everything feels so fucking good. Leaning back slightly, I stifle every sound that tries to pass through my lips until only a soft whine escapes. It's a pleasurable agony as I ease lower to slide a finger inside.
Tight, but not unmanageable. Unfortunately, the deeper I go, the more my body seems to rebel.
The muscles at the entrance clench, making it a touch uncomfortable.
But I'd be lying if I said it didn't make the pleasure burn all the hotter.
The resistance, the way my body fights the intrusion even as I'm dripping wet, just makes me want it more.
Setting the phone down on the floor, I close my eyes and picture some big, hulking Alpha CEO bending me over his desk as he shoves a thick finger or two inside my pussy, invading me, owning me.
Not asking permission, just taking what he wants while I'm helpless to stop him.
It helps me loosen up enough to go even deeper. Is it possible to get two in?
Slick drips down the side of the tub as I pull out and notch two fingers at my entrance.
Taking a deep breath, I spread my knees and work them in.
It's tight, but eventually I can sink down on them.
God, the stretch. The burn. It's almost too much, but not quite enough.
Moaning under my breath, I tease my clit as I rock back and forth.
My inner walls flutter as my brain concocts all sorts of nasty and erotic images.
Me on my knees, mouth stuffed full of cock, gagging and drooling as he uses my throat, his hand fisted in my hair keeping me in place.
Me tied down to a bed as an Alpha has his wicked way with me, spread-eagled and helpless, unable to close my legs as he pounds into me.
Me fastened to a Saint Andrew's Cross as he takes a flogger to my bare ass, each strike making me cry out, the pain mixing with pleasure until I can't tell the difference.
I long to moan long and loud. I long to scream out my pleasure, but I keep it to myself as I grind my ass back and forth on the cool porcelain.
The cascading shower thunders in my ears, sounding so loud, so perfect to cover up the sounds welling inside me.
But I don't dare. I don't allow even one slip as I reach for completion.
Yanking my fingers out, I take the dildo and hold it at my entrance, hovering as I gulp in breath after deep breath. I can do this. I can fuck this silicone cock. I can take it. All of it.
As I slide in the tip, it gets stuck, just like last time.
However, unlike last time, it actually goes in a bit.
Just a touch, but it's enough to feel it as I clench down.
My pussy grips the head like it doesn't want to let go, muscles fluttering around the intrusion.
It's all I need to finally get a touch of relief as I furiously rub my clit.
Though it's not all the way in, it gives just a hint, just a tiny bit of resistance that tricks my mind into thinking I'm actually being fucked by an Alpha.
My mind's eye races forward, changing the fantasy to where I'm back to being bent over the desk as he lifts my skirt above my ass and forces his way in despite my feigned protests.
Please, no, it's too big, I whimper in my fantasy, even as I push back against him. You can take it, he growls, shoving deeper. You're going to take every fucking inch like a good little omega.
It's fucked up. I know it is. But I don't care.
I want to be ravaged. I want to be craved.
I want to be desired so desperately that he can't wait to have his cock in me—whether I protest or not.
I want him to hold me down and fuck me until I'm sobbing, until I'm begging, until I don't know if I'm saying yes or no anymore because it all feels too good.
For a moment, everything clenches as pleasure explodes through my body.
I rock back and forth, my fingers never leaving my clit as I ride out my orgasm.
Light flashes behind my closed lids as I scrunch my eyes so tightly it makes vague shapes appear and disappear with each thud of my rapid heartbeat.
Ragged breaths escape my lips as I do my best to stay quiet, silent, unable and unwilling to give away the depravity happening in the bathroom.
After a few more jerks of my body, my clit finally becomes far too sensitive to continue.
Wrung out, I pull the dildo from my body and let it fall on the floor.
My pussy clenches at the emptiness, still wanting more even though I just came.
I'll clean it up later, but for now, I just want to get under the hot water and let it wash away my misery. Even though it was the best orgasm I've ever had, I still find myself horny and unsatisfied. The moment the pleasure faded, the longing came back full force.
Why can't I be like Chelsea who can fuck the flavor of the week? Why can't I just stand up to my dad and take control of my life? Why can't I just find someone to set me free?
My muscles scream in protest as I force myself off the edge of the tub and into the hot spray. Tears burn at my eyes, but never fall as I soap down and clean away the evidence of what I just did. It's all so incredibly unfair, but for now, I don't know what else I can do.
I tiptoe down the stairs in my soft holiday pajamas, careful not to wake anyone who might still be asleep. It would be nice to still have a few minutes alone with my thoughts before trying to pretend again in front of Dad and Linda.
A wistful smirk lifts the edges of my lips as I grab a blueberry muffin from yesterday and take it out of the plastic wrap.
It's not all that different from when I was a kid and snuck cartoons on Saturdays, keeping the volume as low as I could so I could watch instead of clean.
Different mom, but same feeling, same sneaking around.
In some ways, I'm glad not everything has changed.
I'm more grateful that I've developed these skills earlier so I can only work on refining them as I continue to age.
It takes everything in me not to laugh as I bite down into the tender muffin.
Say what I will about Linda, she does know how to cook.
Unlike Mom, who considered reheating takeout as being a gourmet chef.
I place it on the counter and look at the kitchen. Things were a bit too chaotic yesterday to really notice. Yet another difference. Before Linda, Christmas was a much smaller, less garish affair. Now, it seems my dad is making up for lost time.
Glancing over at all the holiday decor festooning every available inch, I sneer at the frivolity.
It shouldn't bother me, but it does. It's just one more thing to overstimulate my already frayed nerves.
Despite starting the day awake, getting off just makes me want to curl back in bed and go to sleep.
Frustrated as I am, seeing the jolly fat Santa grinning at me while I'm exhausted and at the end of my rope is the final straw.
I know it's bad when all I want to do is walk up to that smug little face and punch it.
Coffee. I just need some coffee. Maybe then I'll be able to act like I'm in a charitable, holiday mood.
Just as I'm about to scoop out the coffee grounds, a flash of movement catches my eye. A startled scream hovers at my throat, but before I can let it loose, a strong hand wraps around my mouth. The size and strength alone tell me it's an Alpha.
This is it. This is how I die.
I do my best to thrash, to throw the behemoth off of me, but he doesn't budge. In fact, he takes his free hand and wraps it around my waist, pulling me snug against him. Hard, implacable muscles dig into my back as I stand there, unable to fully process what's happening to me.
On instinct, I close my eyes and do my best to go limp. Maybe if I don't fight, I'll manage to live. Holding my breath, I try to memorize everything I can about the man in case I live to tell the tale to the police.
Coffee. The scent invades my nostrils, but I'm pretty sure it's from the grounds in front of me. I have to concentrate. I have to think past the obvious.
Aftershave. Generic. Nothing special about it that I can tell. Fuck.
Tobacco. Going deeper, I pick up on the smoky scent. Is he a smoker? Or is this part of his natural smell?
Spice. Not one that I can identify. It's spicy like ginger, but it's not that. It's unidentifiable.
Arousal. Fuck. That one's me. Probably because I’m still wet from touching myself in the shower.
Or worse, it’s my body responding to being manhandled even though I'm terrified.
Oh God. Can he smell it? Can he smell the effect he's having on me?
Can he tell I just got off and I'm still slick and ready?
Shit. Shit. Shit. This isn't good. This is not good.
"Easy there, Little Lily," a familiar deep voice breathes against my ear. "I'm not gonna hurt you."