Page 25 of Delta (Alpha #12)

"You ain’t seen shit," I snap. "An' if you do see that, you're fuckin' 'allucinatin'."

She worms her arms under mine, hugging my torso from behind, hands on my chest. "Hey, don't be grumpy with me, Rush. I know what you're doing."

"What am I doin', then?" I snap. "Coz it seems like I’m tryin' to make you understand that I'm not who you think I am."

"Pushing me away."

“Yeah, so get pushed, bitch."

She snorts. "Oooh, the B-word. If you think that's all it takes, then you don't know me very well, either."

"Nah, I don't. Don't want to, neither."

"Sorry, not buying it."

I hate her touch—because I crave it. I hate the soft bite of her words—because they sear my soul.

Her soft, small hands drift down.

"Don't," I whisper.

"Why not?"

I can't tell her. I try—I fucking swear I do. I open my mouth to tell her the truth, but nothing comes out.

I'm weak. So fucking weak.

Her hands glide down, down. Rest on my hip bones. I look in the mirror and see her molten brown eyes find mine in the reflection. Hers are filled with compassion, interest, and mischief—a complicated assortment of emotions.

Mine? Tortured.

My cock doesn't care about any of that. All it knows is that her hands are ghosting closer to it, and it likes what that portends.

"Bryn," I whisper, struggling to push the hot ball of truth past the lump in my throat. “I’m—"

She grasps my semi-erect cock in her hand, lazily rolling the pad of her thumb over my tip. I groan, hang my head, because I can't meet her eyes.

"Ssshh," she breathes. "Just hush. And watch."

I should never have touched her. Not once. I know better. But she's under my skin. I crave her. I can't bring myself to look away from our reflection, from her small hand sliding and clutching and playing with my growing erection—I can't look away, much less stop her.

I groan as she toys me to full erection. Like when I went down on her earlier, she takes her time. This is more for her than it is me. Just playing with me, enjoying the feel of my body, my response to her touch.

She leans against me, giving me her full weight against my back, breasts firm against me, skin soft and warm, breath hot on my shoulder.

Gradually, I feel myself rising toward orgasm, pressure welling in my balls, need building. I grip the edge of the sink and brace, breathing hard as she works my length with one hand, the other delicately cupping and massaging my balls.

"Fuck," I breathe.

"You like that?"

I nod.

"Need to hear you say it, Rush."

"Yes, Bryn, it feels good." My voice is rough, a hoarse croak.

I push into her hand, grunting as my orgasm wells within me. I don't have it in me to hold out. Shit, I'm barely hanging on to my sanity as it is.

I couldn't stop this if I tried.

The closer to climax I get, the slower her hands move. I feel her lips curve in a smile against my shoulder, watching me grind into her hand, grunting and growling as I reach the cusp of climax.

Right as I'm about to blow all over the sink and mirror, she drops to her knees on the tile and twists me in place.

There's no warning or lead up, just her hot mouth around my cock, tongue sliding past my frenulum as she takes me.

She doesn't deep-throat me this time. There's nothing to prove.

She squeezes my balls and presses that wicked, teasing finger against my taint and pumps my cock at the base and moves her tight, wet, sucking mouth around my head—slowly, unhurriedly, lazily.

I groan raggedly, burying my hands in the soft curly mass of her hair.

I arch, head thrown back, legs shaking and threatening to give out entirely as she utterly destroys me with her mouth.

Time ceases to exist, and my lungs sear as I struggle to breathe past the spasming ecstasy of wave after wave of climax.

The hot, wet suction of her mouth is an endless wonder, and even when I can't come anymore, she keeps going, fondling my balls and suckling and bobbing sloppily around my cock.

I have to grip the sink with both hands to keep myself upright as she takes me to a level of orgasmic delirium I've never dreamed was possible. Finally, she releases my cock from her mouth and sits back on her heels, grinning up at me like the proverbial cat who ate the canary.

With a raspy gasp, I sag to the floor, staring at Bryn in pathetic, stunned awe. "Bloody…fuckin'…hell."

She drags her wrist across her lips, looking almighty pleased with herself. Rightly so, I'd say. "Feeling better now, I bet."

My brain is scrambled senseless, and all I can do is give her a dazed nod. "Uh-huh."

This gets me a breathy giggle. "Good. I don't know what just happened to make you look so…I don't know…sad and angry, but hopefully that helps a little bit."

I stare at her, guilt shattering through me like a riptide as my cognitive function slowly returns. The guilt is fucking lava in my gut. I could vomit from it.

"You're a fuckin' wonder, Bryn," I whisper. "I don’t deserve any part of who you are."

"Rush," she whispers back to me. "Don't say that."

"Just the truth, love." I shake my head, scrubbing my face with one hand.

"If you knew. If you could see my rotten, black soul…

" I swallow hard, each breath searing my throat with the infernal heat of guilt ravaging my insides.

"You'd run as far and fast as you could.

And you should, Bryn. If you had an ounce of sense in that…

that perfect fucking head of yours, you'd put a hole in my fucking skull and run.

And you should, Bryn. Run and don't fucking look back. "

My eyes burn. Everything burns.

I can't…

It has to be now or I'll cock it all up.

"My mobile," I say, my voice shredded as if I’d swallowed razored blades. "It was my friend. We can go see him now. He'll…he'll sort you out. But it has to be now."

Hope blossoms in her eyes. "He can help me get home? This won't touch my family?"

"Yeah. Home." I can't look at her or she'll see the lie on my face. "Won't touch your family."

She scrambles to her feet, grabs my hand, and hauls me to my feet. "Well, come on then! Let's go!" She's so eager, the poor doomed creature, pulling on her clothes as fast as she can.

I just watch from the doorway for a moment. "I'm so sorry," I whisper.

She doesn't hear.

Not that it matters. There's no forgiveness for the likes of me.

Not after this.