It’s wrong. It’s violation. It’s everything I was trying to avoid.
It feels like coming home.
“You feel it,” he says. Not a question—he already knows. He can probably feel my confused tangle of emotions bleeding through the bond from my side.
“What did you do to me?”
“I claimed you.” His hand slides up to cup my breast, and my nipple is so sensitive that even that gentle touch makes me gasp. “The bond forms during the first knotting. You’ll always be able to feel me now. My emotions. My desire.” He rolls my nipple between his fingers, and lightning shoots straight to my clit. “My pleasure when I’m inside you.”
I cry out, my hips jerking against him, and the movement makes his knot tug at my entrance in a way that’s almost painfuland entirely too good. Through the bond, I feel his surge of satisfaction at my response—feel how much he likes watching me squirm on his cock, helpless and overwhelmed.
“I don’t want—”
“You do.” He pinches my nipple, and I feel my pussy flood with fresh wetness around his cock. Through the bond, I feel his dark amusement. “Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind hasn’t caught up. And I can feel everything now, Hannah. Every flutter of your cunt. Every spike of pleasure you try to hide.” His other hand slides down my belly, over the swell where his seed fills me, and finds my clit. “Every time you clench around me and wish you weren’t enjoying it so much.”
I nearly come off the bed.
“Fuck—” The word tears out of me as his fingers circle the swollen bundle of nerves. I’m so sensitive from everything he’s already done to me, and the pleasure is immediate and overwhelming. “Please, I can’t—”
“You can.” He rubs harder, and my thighs fall open without my permission, giving him better access. “You’re going to come on my knot, Hannah. Going to feel that pretty pussy squeeze me while I’m still filling you with cum.”
I shake my head, but my hips are already rocking against his hand, chasing the pleasure I don’t want to want. His fingers work my clit in tight circles while his other hand torments my nipple, and I feel the orgasm building at the base of my spine—feel it coiling tighter and tighter while his cock pulses inside me and his knot stretches me open.
Through the bond, I feel his anticipation. Feel him waiting for me to shatter, eager to experience my pleasure alongside his own.
“That’s it,” he murmurs as my breathing goes ragged. “Good girl. Let me make you feel good.”
The praise breaks me.
I come with a scream, my pussy clamping down on his knot so hard I see white. The orgasm tears through me in waves—my walls rippling around his cock, my clit throbbing against his fingers, every ridge of his shaft pressing into my spasming flesh. It goes on and on, pleasure crashing through me while he keeps rubbing my clit, keeps murmuring praise against my ear, keeps pumping me full of seed that has nowhere to go.
And through the bond, I feel his pleasure layered over mine—feel his satisfaction at my surrender, feel his cock twitch inside me as my orgasm milks him. It amplifies everything, his pleasure feeding mine feeding his, until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
By the time it fades, I’m sobbing.
“Good girl,” he says again, and my spent cunt clenches weakly at the words. Through the bond, I feel how much he means it—feel the genuine approval, the possessive pride. “Such a good omega. Coming so hard for your Alpha.”
I hate myself for how much I needed that.
I hate myself more for how much I want to hear it again.
Time loses meaning.
The knot releases eventually—I feel it shrink inside me, feel the sudden gush of his seed spilling out of my stretched hole. So much of it. Hot and thick, flooding out of me and soakingthe furs beneath us. My pussy clenches around the sudden emptiness, and the loss is so acute it makes me whimper.
I should be relieved. Should use this moment to gather myself, to remember who I am, to rebuild some fragment of the resistance that’s been crumbling since he first touched me.
Instead, I hear myself whisper: “Please. Please, I need—”
“Need what?” His voice is dark with satisfaction. He knows. He can feel it through the bond—the hollow ache inside me, the desperate craving to be filled again. He’s going to make me say it anyway.
“I need you inside me again.” The words spill out without thought, without shame. “Please, Alpha. I need your cock. I feel so empty—”
“Good girl.”
He flips me onto my stomach before I can prepare, and my oversensitive nipples drag against the furs. I moan at the friction, my hips lifting instinctively, presenting myself to him like the omega I’m becoming. I don’t even think about it anymore—my body just knows what position he wants, and it offers itself up without consulting my brain.
Then he slams back into me, and I scream.
