I blush, which is new for me.
“Can I?” Emery asks as if we haven’t already crossed the line. As if this wasn’t going to happen next anyway. Not that I was entitled to anything more. She’s just in such a state that I think only an alpha’s knot can help her now.
Emery wraps her hand around it, slick with her own arousal, and strokes me. I nearly lose it right there.
“Emery,” I say, voice low.
She looks at me, wild and hungry.
“I want to give you my knot,” I say, blunt as a hammer. “It will help you. But only if you want it. There is no pressure for anything.”
She nods, frantic. “Please. Please.”
“Are you sure?”
“Whitlock, if you don’t enter me right now?—”
I cut her off by lining myself up at her entrance. “As you wish, my angel.”
The head of my cock slips through her folds. She’s so wet I slide in with almost no resistance, but the heat is so intense I have to stop and breathe for a second.
Emery doesn’t wait. She rocks her hips up, forcing me deeper. I go slow, even though my body wants to take, to rut, toclaim.
Emery wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me in, gasping when I bottom out. Her nails rake my shoulders, marking me. I thrust, slow and steady, feeling the way she tightens around me every time I move.
The world narrows to this. To her, to her scent, to the way her body fits me exactly right.
She moans, high and sharp, every time I fill her. Her hands claw at my back, then my hair, then my chest. She whispers my name, over and over, like it's the only word she knows. I feel the base of my cock begin to swell, the alpha's knot forming, and when I push it against her entrance, her eyes go wide with recognition.
“Yes,” she says before I can ask. I push it inside her. Emery winces in pain.
“Emery—”
This time she presses a finger against my lips. “I am more than fine. I am on fire. Please. Don’t. Stop.”
I obey my omega. I last maybe two more minutes before the edge comes, fast and brutal. My knot expands inside her, locking us together.
I slow, trying to hold on, but she notices and whispers, "Don't stop, please.”
I lose it.
I cum inside her, hard, and the world blanks out. The orgasm that rips through me is volcanic, the kind of white-hot, nerve-melting finish that makes my vision stutter and my arms seize with the urge to clutch her close, never let go. The world contracts to a pinpoint—the pulse of my cock, the heat of her, the desperate, staccato sound of both our breaths. And the way she clamps down around me, legs tight at my hips, hands digging into my hair, is so raw and real I almost can’t handle it. I barely notice that I’m making noises too—groans and curses and her name, over and over, like I’m praying to her and only her.
When I cum, it’s not just a release. It’s a surrender, a giving-up of the self. I knot inside her and the sensation is so powerful, so fucking animal, it sends a second wave of aftershocks through my whole body. She cums with me, her body shuddering in a perfect counterpoint, and I feel the way we lock together—her slick, my knot, her pulse fluttering under my hands, the gasp she lets out when she realizes it’s real. I hold her as she rides out the sensations, little aftershocks quivering through her, and every single one of them spikes pleasure back into me.
Time stretches and snaps, like a rubber band. I’m only dimly aware of the rest of the world—the distant hum of a streetlamp outside her window, the idle churn of the air conditioner, the fact that my heart is hammering so loud it must be audible through my chest. All I can really focus on is the feel of her around me, the heat and pressure and intimacy of being locked inside another human being, the surge and retreat of pleasure until there’s nothing left but a dazed, weightless quiet.
We stay that way until my knot deflates, neither of us able to speak, just breathing each other in. The room is a mess, the bed is ruined, and neither of us cares.
Emery strokes my hair, slow, and says, “You’re good at that.”
I snort. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
We lie there, not talking, not moving. At some point, I slide out of her and clean her up with a towel. She’s half asleep, eyelids heavy, but she smiles when I tuck her under the blanket.
“Don’t leave,” she says, barely awake.
“Never,” I say, and mean it.
