Holiday Intrusion: A Dark Omegaverse Christmas Romance by Nora Ash

Author:Nora Ash [Ash, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Huldra Media
Published: 2023-11-27T18:30:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

CHRISTMAS MORNING

The next time I wake up, I’m alone.

I squint blearily against the dim light filtering through my woolen curtains, half expecting my intruder to still be somewhere in my bedroom, waiting for me to wake up so he can have me all over again.

A confusing rush of heat floods my muscles at the thought of that. I whimper when my pussy attempts a weak clenching in response. Ow! Ow-ow-holy-shit-ow!

Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to spend time pondering whether last night was just a dream, that’s for sure.

I lie under the thick pile of blankets, trying to quiet my breathing so that I might hear him. But there’s no sound of life, nor the sense of someone else being in the room with me like there was last night. When I strain my hearing to listen for movement downstairs, there is only silence.

I don’t know why my heart drops at that. Strike that—I do know, but I really don’t want to admit it, not even to myself. Who hopes their rapist stays around to celebrate Christmas morning?

The same girl who asked him to stay and snuggle. Christ.

I grimace at my pathetically spiraling thoughts and force my stupid brain to return to a state that's at least semi-functional. It’s not my fault. I can’t help that my entire system is still flooded with endorphins, or that my bedlinens smell like sweet-spicy musk and male. The sooner I get out of bed and away from everything that reminds me of him, the sooner I’ll be able to think without my ovaries’ mushy interference.

Only the bed isn’t the only reminder he left behind.

My abdomen protests violently when I roll myself off the mattress, and when I make my legs take my weight and force myself upright, my knees nearly buckle.

Yep. That still hurts. No wonder women who get a choice in the matter don’t sign up for a second ride on this particular carousel. Perhaps I’d still be able to move with some dignity if he’d had me just the once.

Though if he had, I wouldn’t have learned how good sex can feel. Jesus Christ on a cracker.

I shuffle to the bathroom while pretending it doesn’t feel like I’m still straddling a fencepost and manage to stumble into the tub. As much as I want to collapse into the warm embrace of a bath, I opt for switching on the showerhead instead. If I sit down right now, I’m not getting out again before New Year.

His semen is everywhere. Crusting down my inner thighs, matting my pubic hair, and streaked across my belly. Smeared across my butt and all the way up my lower back. I don’t remember him coming anywhere but deep inside, but perhaps this is just what happens when your guy overfills you, then keeps pumping. Pure physics.

Not "your guy," Eve. Get it together.

There is nothing dignified about how I have to lean against the cold tiles and carefully—ow, so carefully—spread my labia with two fingers, then aim the showerhead up to rinse out my poor vagina.

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