This is heat, after all. That’s why it’s so easy, why every orgasm builds in two minutes and explodes out of me. I tremble and moan on the kitchen table, but he doesn’t stop, he fucks me with deep, even, powerful thrusts, perfect.
My hips knock against the table’s edge, my dick’s hanging there, hard and bouncing. I’ll probably have bruises, but right now, I don’t care.
I’m getting fucked in my own kitchen, by my own stalker, dear Fate have mercy!
All this time, I feel his body behind me, the strength in him, that massive physical power, all that delicious energy of a young, powerful alpha, exactly what I need most right now. My pleasure swells, builds, but it still isn’t fully satisfied. I want more. And more!
Then I feel it.
Something inside me starts to expand even further! In a split second, I sense his intention—he wants to pull back. But I weave my fingers through his, tugging his hands forward on the table just enough to let him know I don’t want him to retreat.
"Stay!" I gasp.
Fuck. The knot swells inside me, and for a moment, I regret telling him not to pull out, because it feels like it might split me open.
I take a sharp breath, filled to the brink of pain but never crossing it. That balance between pleasure and discomfort is oddly freeing. A long, drawn-out moan escapes me, and my cock sprays another load, all while the stalker stops thrusting.
I hear his breath right behind my ear. I know, with the knot’s expansion, he came too.
We both freeze.
I pant, trying to wrap my head around the fact that we’re locked together, even though we’re officially strangers…
It’s a tricky thing.
And a hint:
A knot expansion is technically impossible for people who don’t share at least some emotional bond!
Even in heat, alphas who don’t have a close emotional connection with an omega can struggle with this.
Yet here we are.
"Why are you doing this?"
I whisper it as I press my head to the table, the cold surface cooling my flushed cheek.
"Did Bay send you? My ex boyfriend. He’s the only one who might still care about me after all these years, or at least that’s what I think…"
I don’t expect an answer. But I repeat the question quietly.
"Did he send you to protect me?Tell me he did!Tell me, please," I plead.
Then he answers me.
This time… he uses his own voice, but the whisper is so soft and barely audible it’s impossible to pick out any individual traits, nothing that would make it recognizable… it’s a delicate rustling voice I can’t place.
"In a way."
That’s all he says.
But that also can mean anything.
A small shiver runs through me, and I let out a sharp breath.
"What does he have to think about the fucking in the park? About me calling my stalker to come back here to…?"
I say it exactly in this way, since if it’s him, the question is… valid. I want to know what he thinks about the idea of me, in theory, wanting another guy.
