"Look at you, Chief. So wet for me."
I admired him right back— that fine, veiny shaft, the head already beading with pre-cum, the length promising to stretch me in ways my toys never quite could. He smirked, as if reading my mind.
"I hope this will suffice compared to your other ways of relief." The teasing edge in his voice made me blush a little, heat creeping up my neck despite the badass facade I clung to.
I arched an eyebrow, refusing to let him have the upper hand entirely.
"You sound jealous, Deputy."
He chuckled, low and dark, his hand still pumping his cock lazily.
"I am jealous—of that vibrating contraption in your nightstand. Saw it when I was doing my due diligence, changing your clothes that night you were unwell. Hope I can compensate for snooping."
The admission—honest, unashamed—made me laugh, a real, breathless sound that cut through the tension. God, this man. Playful even now, but with that underlying maturity that keptsurprising me. I reached down, my hands finding my folds, spreading them further so he could see the slick gushing out, coating my fingers and dripping onto the table.
The scent of my arousal spiked, lavender-vanilla turning heady and desperate, mingling with his blood orange to create something intoxicating, almost overwhelming. "Now come and fuck me, Deputy, before I get impatient."
He cursed under his breath, eyes widening as he bit his bottom lip harder, like he needed to pinch himself to confirm this was real.
"Fuck, Chief..." No more words. He stepped closer, gathering my slick along his length with a few strokes, the wet slide making us both groan. Then he positioned himself at my entrance and slid right in—slow at first, the stretch burning deliciously as he filled me, inch by veiny inch. I gasped, my walls squeezing him tightly, like my pussy didn't want to let him go. He groaned in relief, bottoming out with a shudder, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
"God, you're tight," he muttered, his forehead pressing to mine for a second before he began to move. Slow thrusts at first, building momentum, his cock dragging against my inner walls with perfect friction. I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, our bodies slamming together in a rhythm that echoed through the barn.
We kissed—messy, needy, tongues battling as moans escaped between breaths. His scent wrapped around me like a claim, that candied orange turning possessive and dark, while mine answered with desperate pulses of lavender and cocoa, the air thick with our combined essence.
The pace quickened, his hips snapping forward with increasing force, the table creaking beneath us.
Hay scattered further, the barn's earthy smell fading under the onslaught of our scents and sounds—wet slaps, huffed breaths, my moans growing louder as he hit deeper.
"Fuck, Oakley," I gasped, my nails raking his back through his shirt. He cursed again, shifting his angle just right to hit my g-spot, and that was it—three swift thrusts, and I shattered, cumming hard around him, my pussy clenching in waves that milked his cock. Slick gushed, soaking us both, the release ripping a cry from my throat.
He came undone right after, groaning as his knot began to swell at the base.
"Fuck," he hissed, nestling into my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin. "I'm gonna pull out."
Panting, I lifted my head, meeting his darkened eyes.
"Do you want to pull out?"
"Fucking no," he admitted, voice strained, his knot pulsing inside me, stretching me further.
I laughed weakly, the sound breathless and edged with disbelief.
"You're not actually going to knot in me, Torres."
His fingertips sank deeper into the flesh of my hip, pulling me even closer, our bodies flush as he muttered against my skin, "You don't think I want you? That I want this to be a permanent thing?"
I huffed, enduring the aftershocks rippling through me, my walls fluttering around him.
"You may regret it." Independent me, always the last line of defense, even now—hardheaded, guarding against vulnerability.
He chuckled, low and sincere, pulling back enough to look into my eyes. The hazel depths were serious, no playfulness now—just raw intent. "The only thing I've ever regretted was assuming you weren't a damn cowgirl who can ride faster than me."
My eyes widened as realization hit—he was serious. This wasn't just heat-of-the-moment talk. In this society where bonds could lock you in forever, he wanted it.With me.The damaged Omega with scars under her tattoos, a ticking clock from the suppressants, and a corkboard full of mysteries in a town that reeked of buried secrets.
"Oakley," I whispered, a warning laced with uncertainty. The town's shadows loomed even here—the missing Omegas, the suspiciously clean crime stats, the uncertainty of who was pulling strings to erase me. Knotting? That was permanent. Risky. In a place like Sweetwater Falls, where danger hid behind postcard-perfect facades, tying yourself to someone could be a death sentence. Or salvation.
"Either tell me yes or no, Chief," he said, voice tight with strain, his knot swollen to the point of pain.
