He is the answer. His cock. His knot.
Him.
“You aren’t ready.” He nips at my ear.
“I am.” I wrap my legs and arms around him, attempting to find my way to his cock, to show him how wet I am. How absolutely ready I am to take him.
He groans as my nails dig into his back. “Sweetheart. Are you sure? Once we start, you are going to be in and out. Are yousurethat this is what you want?”
What choice do I have?
But I don’t say the thought out loud. Half-way into this, I decided there was no turning back. And it could be worse.
But this alpha? I don’t want him because he is an alpha.
I just wanthim.
And I need him to take me before the last remaining synapses of my brain calculate what that means.
It’s one thing to break my promise to Tony out of necessity and another to do it out of want.
Betrayal.
The word echoes around my skull, attempting to land.
“Yes.” I push down the agony. The heart-wrenching shame of what I am about to do. Instead, I tug the alpha back to me.
I know this time, he only moves because he chooses to. I am no match for this man’s strength. He allows me control in this moment. And I need it.
Control is a heady feeling that leaves me craving more and more. It is a sensation that I am not accustomed to.
This time, when our lips meet, it is a frenzied exchange of passion. I attempt to tell him the story of my life with my mouth and tongue, and I truly believe he is doing the same.
An isolated farmer.
A lonely omega.
He adjusts himself until I can feel the soft tip of his cock pressing into me.
Our kiss breaks, and I pant beneath him.
“Even with the scent-suppressants your slick is sweet. I wonder how it will taste,” Luck murmurs fervently in my ear, nuzzling it. “All you have to say is stop, and I will. I promise.”
And I believe him.
Digging my fingers further into him I tug him down until the entire head of his cock is inside of me, he pauses for a single instance before pressing further and further—
“Mmmm…” I moan. My body is on fire,toohot.
“There’s something wrong with her!” A man hisses from nearby. “She isn’t perfuming, but her body has gone up nearly ten degrees in the last hour, and she keeps moaning and groaning. She even stuck her hand inside my pants in her sleep.”
Blinking a few times, I attempt to figure outwhatexactly is going on. I was dreaming—not for the first time—of my encounter with Luck. But I am not in Serena’s guest room, nor am I in my bed, or anywhere else I recognize.
Dark eyes stare back at me. Both familiar and unfamiliar.
“Are you awake?” There’s concern in their voice.
The concern is what jogs my memory.
