Chapter 4
1333 Words
Chapter 4
Sophia POV
The silence after Dylan spoke still rang in my ears.
“She’s cherry,” he had said. Just like that. Like it was nothing.
I stood frozen by the stairs. My fingers were curled into the hem of my oversized shirt. My heartbeat thudded so loud I couldn’t hear anything else, not even my own thoughts. I felt like I wasn’t inside my body anymore.
Alex and John stared at me like I was a stranger. A liar.
Dylan just folded his arms across his chest, looking satisfied. Calm, too calm. I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear. But I just stood there, breathing shallowly, swallowing the lump in my throat.
And then the door opened again.
The front door.
I smelled her before I saw her.
Elena.
My mother.
And right behind her came General Gray, my stepfather, the man who married my mom after rejecting me every day since I moved into his house. He never even tried to hide how much he disliked me. I was a waste of breath to him. A weak, silent Omega who didn’t belong in his pack, his house, or even his world.
They both walked in, their presence making the air feel colder. The three boys quickly stepped away from me, as if nothing had just happened.
“Hey, Dad,” John said casually, picking up a jacket from the couch as everything was normal.
Alex chimed in, “Elena, you look nice.”
She gave a small smile, her lips barely curving. She didn’t look at me. Not once
General Gray walked in like a soldier on duty, tall, straight-backed, eyes like iron. He scanned the room, his gaze slipping right past me. Like I wasn’t even standing there.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and sharp. “I trust you haven’t all been wasting time.”
“No, sir,” Dylan answered.
“Good.” His cold eyes flicked toward the hallway. “I’ll be upstairs, Elena, don’t forget to call Alpha Royce later.”
“I won’t,” she said softly, still not looking my way.
And just like that, they were gone. The air shifted again. Lighter, but not better.
I stood there by the stairs, my legs feeling like wet noodles.
Nobody said anything after that. Alex walked to the kitchen. John went upstairs. Dylan... he gave me one last look and followed his brothers like nothing had happened.
No one spoke to me.
No one asked if I was okay.
*******************
Dinner came, and I barely touched my food.
The boys were laughing, talking like nothing had happened earlier. Like the world hadn’t tilted off its axis. Like Dylan hadn’t exposed me, cornered me, touched me, shattered everything I was trying to hold together.
Alex was telling a story about school, and John kept making jokes about it. Dylan just smirked here and there, cool and calm, sipping from his glass like he was the king of this messed-up castle.
And me?
I sat there quiet, shoulders tense, eyes on my plate. I didn’t even lift my fork properly. I just kept pushing the same three peas back and forth like they were puzzle pieces I couldn’t fit together. I could feel Dylan’s gaze burning into the side of my face every few seconds, but I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. If I did, I might explode.
My mom sat two seats away. She didn’t say a word to me. Not even a glance.
After dinner, I went straight to my room. The second the door closed, my breath finally came out in a shaky rush. I crawled into bed, curling under my thin blanket like it could protect me from all of it.
I stared at the ceiling in the dark. My chest felt heavy, like someone had stacked stones on it. I wanted to cry. I needed to cry. But the tears wouldn’t come.
I just laid there, frozen, blinking up at the shadows on my ceiling, my thoughts racing like a storm that wouldn’t stop. I felt hollow. Like I didn’t even exist.
And eventually, I drifted off, not because I was tired, but because my body gave up before my mind did. And then...
I woke up.
At first, I wasn’t sure why. The room was dark, the moonlight soft through the curtains, but something was… off.
My legs… were spread apart.
Warm breath fanned over my inner thigh.
My eyes snapped open.
“Dylan…” I gasped, my voice barely a breath.
I blinked in the dark, the moonlight slicing faint lines across the ceiling. I thought I was dreaming at first. But then I felt it again.
Warm. Wet. Slow.
His tongue moved between my legs like it belonged there.
I jolted, hands fisting the sheets beside me. My knees tried to come together on instinct, but they couldn’t. His hands were there, firm on my thighs, holding me open. Holding me still.
“Dylan, stop.,.” I whispered, but my voice cracked halfway through.
He didn’t stop.
He dragged his tongue up again, slow and deep, and my back arched without meaning to. A soft sound escaped my mouth, and I bit my lip hard to stop another.
He didn’t speak at first. Just kept moving, tasting, breathing against my skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of me.
My legs trembled. My heart was racing so fast I could barely breathe.
“Please…” I tried again, but it came out more like a whimper than a protest.
Then I heard his voice, Low, Soft and Dangerous.
“Shhh,” he murmured against me, lips brushing places that made my toes curl. “You don’t want me to stop.”
I did.
I didn’t.
I couldn’t tell anymore.
I wanted to slap him, scream or cry.
But I also didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to lose the heat building inside me like a rising wave. My hips jerked again, on their own, and he groaned, like he was the one losing control. I bit harder into my bottom lip. I could taste blood now, but even the pain wasn’t enough to block out the rush of feelings tearing through me. Shame, Need, Fear and Hunger.
“You taste like you’ve been waiting for this,” Dylan whispered, lifting his head just enough for his breath to ghost against my skin.
I hated him. I hated the way he made me feel.
Tears welled up in my eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?” I choked out.
He didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me, face still between my legs, his hands holding me like I was his.
“Because you want it,” he said simply. “Because you need to remember what it’s like to be wanted.”
I gripped the pillow beneath my head, knuckles white, legs still shaking as Dylan’s tongue moved again, slow and deliberate, like he wanted me to beg. My breath hitched, the room spinning around me.
“Dylan…please,” I whispered, with tears building up in my eyes, but it didn’t sound like begging anymore. It sounded like surrender.
He groaned low in his throat, like my voice turned him on even more.
Then…
*Knock knock.*
My whole body froze. Another knock but louder.
“Sweetheart?” My mother’s voice, muffled, curious. Too close.
Dylan didn’t stop.
“Are you awake?” she asked. “I thought I heard something.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth, eyes wide. My heart slammed against my ribs. Dylan’s tongue moved again, slower now, taunting.
“Elena, wait….” came a man’s voice outside. My step Father
The doorknob turned.
“Don’t,” I whispered in a broken breath, but Dylan only looked up at me with a wicked glint in his eyes, and didn’t stop digging his wet tongue deep inside of me.
The door creaked…...
- Writer
