My breath turns ragged. I’m pulsing and throbbing down there.
“Have you ever been knotted?”
“No.” Another sharp clench and another fresh gush of slick.
His nostrils flare, and his eyes lift to pin mine. The strange rust-streaked gray color should be cold, yet his gaze blazes with heat
“Some alphas can knot all the time. You heard of that before, Esme?”
I blink at him, shocked. Only a mated alpha can knot. I heard it can occasionally happen when alphas and omegas are in the early stage of bonding, before the omega goes into heat. It’s an indicator of a pair-bond. It’s just a rumor, though, something I’ve caught in whispered conversations I’ve heard over the years.
Rumors because no mated omega ever goes back to the omega community again.
“Do you want to be knotted?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to invest?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
Chapter Three
Zeb
She’s sweet and needy. Soft in all the right places. But I get the impression something is holding her back.
The steady diet of instruction manuals and vids I’ve consumed in the limited time available since I was given this mission feels woefully inadequate. What the fuck do I know about omega care?
I trust the off-the-record backroom chats between alphas—and my instincts—more than anything I’ve read or watched.
But I’m out of my depth. No point in pretending otherwise.
I’ve spent my life winging it. When I shift my body form, it also messes with my mindset. That’s one of the reasons I hate staying in any form too long. You start to lose yourself. I spent a month as a theta once. I could feel the arrogance creeping in, burrowing under my skin. I still shudder when I think about it.
I’m not an alpha.
Definitely not her alpha.
But I can fake it because that’s what she needs.
It’s pretty fucking heady hearing her give her investment, getting her mentally to the place where she’s ready to admit it.Addictive. There was a moment of resistance—almost defiance. Omegas always seem sweet, but this one? Esme has got a little fire under the sweetness. Maybe I never knew omegas at all.
The bonded ones are different, though. They’ve got this same spark.
What the fuck am I doing? Thinking there’s a spark between us? None of this is me. I’m wearing someone else’s skin. I’m not an alpha. She’s never going to be for me. The real me could never be enough.
I’m in a punishing mood so I stuff two fingers into her pussy. I’m not gentle about it. She goes off. Climaxes right there over my hand, sweet mewling sounds of shock and pleasure pouring from her perfect, pouty lips.
I shove deeper, smashing my thumb over her clit. A low earthy groan accompanies her pussy crushing the hell out of my fingers before she rides them with abandon.
Well, that’s quite a show… and off-the-charts hot. My dick is thudding behind my zipper. It’s all in on this mission and the perks that go with it. I understood that omegas were exceptionally responsive. But this is something else. Don’t think I’ve ever been this close to losing it just watching a woman come.
Her climax goes on and on. She’s fucking tight around my fingers. Fuck, her pussy is going to feel good around my dick. With her wrists bound at her lower back, and her dress tucked under her arms, her tits are thrust out like an offering, quivering with her panted breaths. Her pussy drips slick over my knuckles and fatigues. There’s so much blood trying to pound into my dick, I’m in danger of blacking out.
Finally, her shuddering climax peters out, and her eyes flutter open.
I slide my fingers out of her and stuff them into my mouth, with a low growl that sounds alien even to me. She tastes sweet.Like cotton candy. No pussy should taste that good… Hell, I’m not going to last thirty seconds unless she takes the edge off.
