I’m placed down on my back, and the cold stone floor bites into my bare skin. We’re in a large sitting room with a fabric couch and two armchairs. Damask wallpaper peels away from the corners near the door. The chandelier on the tall ceiling is cast iron, with white cobwebs hanging from the candle sticks.
The boy with the bored expression lowers himself down onto his knees in front of me and says, “You’re in Hell now, sweet angel. Your God can’t save you. His power doesn’t extend outside the borders of Eden.” The boy eyes my white, dirt-smeared wings with a satisfied smile. He caught his prize and wants to revel in his victory. His big hand lands on my naked skin and calloused fingers skim over my collarbone and down my chest, over the soft curves of my breasts. “Do you know why you’re here, little angel?”
I stay silent.
“Do you know about my kind?” He pinches my nipple and smiles when I whimper. “We’re fallen angels cast out from the garden you call home.” Trailing his touch lower, past my belly button, his fingers hover at the apex of my thighs before dipping between my legs. “Have you ever been touched, little angel?” he asks, sliding his fingers over my pussy.
I haven’t been touched—I’m not a sinner—but the shameless, feminine moan in the room is mine. It comes again when he pinches the swollen nub between my legs.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
My eyes flutter, and the insides of my thighs dampen.
“Such a good little angel,” he praises, his eyes burning red. “Spread your pretty legs for me. Forsake your God.”
His two friends, seated with their legs spread like kings of their domain, laugh on the couch. I’ve never seen fallen angels before, but everything about them is dark.
Dark hair. Dark wings. Dark eyes that flicker with flames. Even their shadows are dark. Angel boys are different. Light blue eyes, blonde hair, and sparkling white wings that reflect the sun.
“You’re cruel,” one of the boys comments, placing a cigarette between his lips. With a flick of his fingers, he conjures a ball of fire. The embers spark as he inhales deeply and extinguishes the flame.
“Maybe,” the boy in front of me replies, sliding his finger knuckle deep inside me, a wicked smile on his lips, “but she enjoys it.”
He smells of embers and firewood. I like it. It’s the scent the fairytales told me about as a child. The danger lurking in the woods that our elders warned us to stay away from.
“Don’t you, sweetheart?”
A second finger. I can’t breathe. My heart gallops in my chest, and my pussy contracts around him. I would be cast out if the elders found out about this. I’ve been touched by sin, and I’m no longer pure.
“Please, let me go,” I whimper.
“No can do,” he replies, sliding his glistening fingers back out. As I watch, he licks them clean, groaning darkly. “So fucking good.”
The air thickens with swirling cigarette smoke.
“You stole her. What now?” the boy who carried me here asks, his feet propped up against the black glass coffee table.
“I don’t know,” the boy admits, cupping my chin with his wet fingers. He inspects my face as if he’s never seen an angel before. He probably hasn’t. We don’t visit the underworld. “I was bored.”
More laughter. “You’re always fucking bored.”
“I want to dirty up her face. She sparkles, for fuck’s sake. What’s that shit about?”
One of the boys shrugs as he lights up his own cigarette. It amazes me how they can conjure up hellfire with their hands.
“Must be the holiness shining through.” He laughs at his own joke.
The boy in front of me considers this. “Maybe it’ll dull if we fuck her?”
“Maybe,” the boy on the couch agrees.
“Would you like that?” he asks me, jostling my face when I try to peer at his friends. “Want us to corrupt you beyond repair?”
I stare at the small horns peeking through his mussed-up hair. Does he have fangs too, like the stories say?
Leaning in, he whispers against my lips, “When we’re done with you, your wings will be dark with sin.”
“You won’t get away with this!”
His sinister chuckle makes me tingle in unfamiliar ways. It’s masculine and raspy—a pink tongue and a hiss from the coiled snake that lures me deeper into the woods.
Come closer.
“Baby, baby, baby,” he breathes, his hot breath tickling my ear. “You’re not in Eden anymore. You’re with the fallen angels.”
I try to crawl away, but he circles his warm fingers around my ankle and drags me closer. Back home, I wasn’t aware of my nakedness. Now I want to cover myself. The boys are dressed in dark material, their arms covered in intricate tattoos, symbols as ancient as time. I’ve heard about ‘clothes’ in our stories—pants, T-shirts, belts—but I never truly understood nakedness.
Now I do.
“Where are you going, sweetheart? We’re not done playing.”
“Please,” I beg, “let me go.”
He studies me for a moment before crawling on top of me and staring down at my face. His hair falls in his dark eyes when his lips curve into a smile. The white gleam of his teeth sends sparks down to my core. His hands are on either side of my head, his arms straining. I’ve never noticed a boy like this before.
“Never had a man lie on top of you,” he observes, echoing my thoughts.
“You sound pleased,” I retort.
The urge to claw him strikes me out of nowhere as his wings spread out behind him, dark and magnificent. When I gasp, something hard twitches against my thigh.
He seizes my chin, rolling his hips against me. “You’re so fucking innocent.”
His friends laugh while lighting up more cigarettes.
“Daemon, just fuck her already and get it over with.”
Daemon.
“No,” he breathes out, his eyes flicking between mine. “I’ve never had an angel before. Let’s see if we can break her first.”
Something fierce bubbles up inside me, and I latch onto it as I bare my teeth. “You will never break me!”
His eyes flash with surprise. He studies me for a long moment until my white wings ache from being pressed against the hard floor. “We’re three very hungry fallen angels. Trust me, you’ll break.” His eyes travel lower, settling on my heaving chest. He palms my left breast and I arch into his touch. It’s instinctual and so foreign that my eyes widen. His smile grows, revealing sharp fangs.
So the stories are true.
“You’re so responsive,” he observes, squeezing my flesh. I throb between my legs, and it’s a sensation I don’t know how to handle.
“Such beautiful tits, and to be the first one to touch them…” He releases a tortured moan, pinching my peaked nipples hard. “Hell, I’m going to fucking destroy you!”
My neck is bared, speaking a language I’m not fluent in. His lips reply to the calling, descending on my skin. I need something…
“I know, little angel,” he whispers when my hips lift off the floor. “I’ll give you what you need.”
“Your father will kill you for stealing an angel,” one of his friends comments, flicking his cigarette.
Daemon’s warm lips between my breasts travel lower. “No, he’ll want to fuck her himself.”
His hot breath ghosts over my slit, and I shudder, burying my hands in his soft hair. His horns brush up against my skin, and he snarls when I wrap my hand around one. He doesn’t like his horns touched, but he lets me explore him. Like he’s about to chart the map of me.
“Say goodbye to Eden,” he says with a dangerous smirk before covering my pussy with his hot mouth. Sensation explodes. It’s too much and not enough all at once. I’m blown apart, shattering into fragmented pieces. I thought I’d seen the light, but this…
“Such a good little angel,” he praises, prying my thighs open with his hands. He licks and nibbles, sucks and kisses until I can’t remember why I want to return home to Eden. “Hell, this fucking pussy!” His voice drifts through my haze of pleasure. “I’ve found Heaven.”
His friends laugh.
I don’t. I’m writhing on the floor, taking his brutal assault on my body. My wings stretch out until they press up against the coffee table and the walls. When he fills me up with his fingers, I cry out. It hurts, but he makes me take it. Something dark and dangerous spreads inside me. Something that’s thirsty for sin and corruption.
“Is my angel a good little whore?”
I think I am. That must be why my legs are wide open and my pussy grips his fingers like it never wants to let him go. I need more, more, more.
He proceeds to pump me hard and fast, his fingers hooking inside me. My wings scrape on the floor, catching on the worn wood, and I lose a feather. One of the guys on the couch leans down to pick it up. As I crest, he blows it from his palm. The white feather floats before circling back down to the ground, hauntingly beautiful.
A strange, hot sensation builds inside me until every muscle in my body tenses. I cry out, arching off the floor. My body comes alive with intense pleasure that drags me back out to sea and pulls me beneath the choppy waves. Down I go, into the dark depths where supreme silence reigns. My body shudders and writhes, every drop of pleasure wrung from it. When I resurface, the boy stands in front of me with his wings spread out. His muscles strain underneath the black material he wears, and his mouth glistens from my arousal in the low lights, but he doesn’t wipe me off.
“I’ve ruined an angel,” he comments to himself. I’m still trembling, my thighs squeezing together. Noticing, his eyes flick down to my long legs, then back up. “You belong to us now. If you run, we will find you, so don’t even fucking try.”
“What are we going to do with her?” one of the guys asks.
Daemon sits in the chair across from them, gazing down at me on the floor.
“We can’t keep her locked in here.”
Looking away from me, Daemon considers his friend. “We can take her to school with us. Parade her around like a prize.”
His friends are silent before one of them bursts out laughing. “You’re fucking insane.”
The other boy drags his fingers over his stubble and replies, “It’s not a bad idea.”
“We caught her, right?” Daemon says, rooting in his back pocket. “She’s ours now.” He opens a packet of cigarettes, placing one between his lips. Then he flicks his fingers and lights it with the hellfire conjured while I stare at the chandelier on the roof. It’s old as time. Smoke escapes Daemon’s mouth before he breathes it in, pointing his cigarette at his friends. “Little angel, meet Alaric and Ronan.”
They all have black hair and dark eyes, features of the underworld. Ronan has a scar on his eyebrow, and there’s another one near his hairline. Alaric has full yet masculine lips and sharp cheekbones. His eyes are a lighter brown yet almost black, a combination I can’t make sense of. Perhaps it’s not the color that’s dark but the essence that shines within. Daemon’s hair is tousled and overdue for a haircut. It’s not straight, but it’s not curly either. It has a kink at the ends that would disappear if he cut it. The gleam in his eyes is crueler than his friends. He’s bored with life here in the underworld. Daemon is the trouble-seeker and the boy who hunts for meaning in the wrong places.
“The rules where you are from don’t apply here,” Alaric tells me. “In fact, there are no rules in the underworld. Here, you fend for yourself.”
I’m from a place of togetherness. This world sounds cold and unwelcoming.
“You can’t trust anyone,” Ronan adds.
I slowly sit up and fold my wings around myself to cover my nakedness, but Daemon shakes his head.
“You don’t hide from us.” When I don’t immediately unfold my wings, he shoots to his feet and surges toward me. “I gave you a fucking order.”
Alaric laughs. “Calm down, brother. She’s scared. Let her adjust.”
“I want her scared.” Crouching down in front of me, he tips my chin up with his finger. “You do as I say, or I will have to punish you.”
My wings slowly unfurl, and Daemon looks like a kid at Christmas with a new toy.
“Good girl for listening to me,” he says, patting my cheek patronizingly.
As he goes to sit, I flip him off. His friends laugh, but don’t rat me out.
“We should get her some clothes,” Daemon tells the others, his elbow on the armrest, scratching his cheek in thought.
“Why?” Ronan asks, rising to his feet. He disappears into the kitchen and returns with beers.
“I’m not letting anyone else see her tits,” Daemon comments.
I’m surprised he cares.
Alaric looks amused. He reaches forward to grab a beer from the coffee table, and then, as he pops the lid, he says, “I’ve never known you to be possessive before.”
“I’m not possessive.”
Alaric takes a large gulp of his beer and looks at Daemon, his eyebrows raised.
“I’m not.”
“Sure.”
“Shut up!”
Ronan watches me closely, then, “Have you ever seen an erect cock?”
Alaric chokes on his drink and starts laughing. My cheeks burn, but I refuse to look weak in front of these fallen angels. I hold his gaze, pretending to be braver than I am.
“Answer me!”
Daemon leans forward and grabs a beer as I shake my head.
“No.”
They exchange an amused look.
“Never seen a hard dick, huh? How do they make babies in Eden?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, feeling foolish when they laugh. “We’re born of the Light.” I lower my head so they can’t see my burning cheeks.
Daemon clears his throat. “Did I say you can look down?”
I glare at him, and he flashes a hint of fang as he smiles.
“Come here,” Ronan tells me, putting his drink down on the coffee table. I go to stand, but he shakes his head. “Crawl to me, little angel.”
I look between them uncertainly.
“What are you waiting for?”
My hands connect with the cheap rug, and it scratches my palms as I slowly crawl over to Ronan. His shoes come into sight, and when I’m settled on my knees between his spread legs, he lifts my chin with his hand. His fingers land on his belt, and I fight the urge to look down. The sound of his belt buckle being undone has my heart racing in my chest. After sliding down his zipper, he shifts. “Look down.”
My throat is dry, and I try to swallow past the strange lump. I’m growing wet between my legs.
“Look. Down.”
My eyes fall on his thick, veiny length against the black fabric of his T-shirt. And as I watch, he fists his cock and strokes his hand over the length.
“Keep watching, little angel.”
A white liquid collects on the tip. He swipes it, letting go of his cock to dip his thumb into my mouth. “Suck.”
It’s salty and delicious. I try not to look too eager.
He’s back to stroking his cock. “I’ll let you watch today, little angel.”
I glance up at him, but he slaps my cheek, ordering me to keep watching. I’m aroused. I’ve never felt anything like this overwhelming desire to let these men use me.
His hand moves faster, jerking the length with expertise. “Do you know what happens when a man comes?”
I shake my head.
Behind me, Daemon chuckles. It’s a low, masculine, and gravelly sound that speaks to something nefarious inside me. “You should give her a demonstration.”
“Trust me, I fucking intend to,” Ronan replies breathily, his hand sliding into the back of my hair. He sits forward and brings his cock closer to my mouth. “Stick your tongue out like a good girl, little angel. It’s time to stuff your hot little mouth full of my cum.”
Curiosity gets the better of me and I comply, looking up at him.
“Fuck,” he groans, stroking his length one more time.. then twice.. three times. “Spread your wings. I want to see them.”
His grip on my hair turns painful. It only hurts more when he stiffens and jerks his hips forward. A hot liquid shoots over my face. I startle, but his hand in my hair prevents me from moving. “That’s it,” he breathes, milking his length. “Look at me, little angel. Such a good little whore, so greedy for my cum.”
Two more spurts of his white, salty liquid. One on my tongue and one over my nose and cheek.
“Hell, that was something else!” He zips himself away and falls back against the couch. I don’t know what to do or how to act. His release is sticky on my skin and it’s humiliating, but that’s what he wants. I like the way he looks at me right now, satisfied and smug. He is pleased to have marked me in front of these other males. Even if they’re his friends. It’s a primal claiming.
Alaric blows cigarette smoke up at the roof. “Do you like being our whore?”
I’m taken aback by his question. “Whore?”
Alaric gestures at me. The release on my face. “You’re an angel covered in semen. Cum. So I’ll ask you again, do you like being our whore?”
Do I?
I look between them. First Daemon and then Ronan, who watches me from beneath lowered lashes.
Alaric throws his empty beer bottle at the wall and shouts, “DO YOU?”
I yelp when the glass explodes, and he asks again with a devilish smile, “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” My voice trembles.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“At least she’s honest,” Daemon drawls, peeling off the label on his beer bottle.
“Come here.” Alaric sinks back down further on the couch. “Show me.”
I slowly crawl over to him, settling between his legs and awaiting further instructions.
“Open your mouth.”
I do.
He sinks his fingers inside, pumping lazily. When I gag, he smiles. “An angel who likes humiliation. We hit the jackpot, guys.”
“She’s fucking perfect,” Daemon agrees behind me.
“We’re not good guys,” Alaric informs me, as if I didn’t already know. “We ruin pretty things like you.” His fingers slip down my throat, and I choke as his other hand fists my hair. “We’ll pluck your wings, sweet angel.”
I moan even as salty tears seep out.
“We’ll hurt you and make you cry.”
My clit throbs painfully.
“Do you want that? Do you want us to make you cry?”
I nod eagerly.
He slides his long fingers out and grabs my chin. “Open your mouth.”
I do, clinging to the darkness in his eyes that will lead me ashore.
“Do you want us to hurt you?” he whispers, leaning in.
I nod again.
“Such a good girl.” His voice is a dark promise, and I know I’ll never see the light again.
He spits in my mouth, digging his fingers into my cheeks. “Swallow.”
His saliva slides down my throat and he smiles cruelly when I open my mouth again to show him. “Good little angel whore. You’ll let us all fuck this mouth and paint your pretty little face with our cum, won’t you?”
Before I can nod again, he rises to his feet, picks up another beer, and walks out. So do the others, too. The door clicks shut behind them, locking me inside. I blink. What just happened?
