“No biting. You hear me?” Corin’s bark makes me flinch even though it’s not directed my way. The words vibrate in my teeth to the edge of pain. “No biting.”
“No biting. Mate.” The words are muffled against my throat, but clear. Then, as his warm tongue shifts to lick at my shoulder, a well-enunciated“Johanna,”almost like a plea.
“Good a—urgh.” Corin coughs. There’s athumpon the other end of the line.
“Johanna, don’t say any designations—especially his,” Dan says. “Only call him by his name. Got that?”
“Yeah. Designations bad?” I totally missed that part in school or, more likely, forgot it over the intervening decades. Good to know, since Nathan’s got both arms in a loose circle around my waist as he licks and sucks at the point where my neck and shoulder meet.
“Pretty much a guaranteed trigger. We’re on our way, okay? Hold on.” A sudden rattling underscores the urgency in Dan’s voice. “Make him say your name as often as you can. Call him by his name. Don’t let him bite you—oh, and don’t let him knot you either. In this state, if he knots, he’ll bite—he won’t be able to resist.”
“Got it. Can you catch a ride fast?” I try to calculate how long it will take them to get here, but in the moment, that kind of math is beyond me in the moment. Nathan’s scent fills my lungs, weakening my resistance.
“I’ve got a zipzap. We’ll be there.” The rattling increases, followed by the sudden whine of wind. “Stay on the line. Corin will hold the phone while I drive. Do whatever you have to do, but don’t let him bite or knot you. He wouldn’t want to do it this way, doesn’t want that—I’m sure of it—so hold onto that truth.”
Hold on. Easier said than done. No one ever told me that ruts are as infectious as heats. Moment by moment, my body eases further into arousal. I’m no omega, but my thighs rub restlessly, skin slick from my natural lube, jeans growing stiffer and damper.
There’s a critical disconnect between body and brain keeping me from enjoyment, though it’s cracking.
Nathan smells so good; I bet he tastes the same. His body aligns with mine so easily, head tucked against my neck, broad chest and slightly curved belly flattening my torso, and thick ridge shifting ever-so-slowly closer to my mound.
No knotting, so no fucking, and I want Nathan’s teeth farther away from my neck—just in case he disobeys Corin’s order. Farther from any part of my skin, because mating bites don’t have to be on the neck; that’s just the usual spot.
“Nathan, it’s Johanna.” I run trembling fingers across his smooth head, then through the mixture of coarse and soft in his beard. “What’s my name?”
“Johanna, mate.” Nathan swipes his tongue along my shoulder. “Taste good.”
I tuck my phone in my pocket and settle my hands on his arms. Tugging gently, I ease us back further. I lead, he follows, into the room and across the floor until I bump against the bed. My calves press against the hard frame while my bottom sinks against the mattress. I haven’t slept here for days, so the blankets are smooth, the ample pillows in a fluffy pile against the headboard.
I remove my phone from my pocket and toss it on the side table; I can still hear a soft whine and crackling layered over rattling and the distant sounds of Dan and Corin’s voices—too distant to understand without concentrating, which is impossible with Nathan in front of me.
My first instinct is to distract Nathan from licking my neck by having him taste other parts of me. He can use that facile tongue to clean my thighs.
Except that might make it harder to ensure he doesn’t bite. No, I need some way to maintain control.
His tongue sweeps across the point where my pulse beats at the base of my throat, making me gasp. My brain is losing the fight. The lust and need in his scent strengthens, coating my mouth with a familiar salty-sweet tang above and beyond his aroma.
Of course.
“What’s my name?” I ask as I ease backward onto the bed.
“Mate.” He climbs after me, shifting easily into a prowling stance on arms and legs. He blinks a few times, then chokes out, “Johanna.”
Each time he manages my name, something inside me softens, warms. Ironic, yet fitting that watching Nathan retain enough reason to keep his alpha from sliding all the way into rut, for my sake, makes me want him more.
The mattress rocks, bed frame squeaking as I shift upward to lie against the piled pillows on the near side of the bed. He follows, knees inching up to rest near my hips. The ridge pressing against his trousers hovers just over my belly while the gentle curve of his slight pooch brushes my breasts. His arms cage my shoulders as he ducks his head back down against my neck.
I get him to say my name twice more as he licks and sucks at my throat. My hands fumble at his belt under the gentle curve of his belly, nails scraping the cool metal buckle until I get it unhooked. Harder without being able to see what I’m doing, but it’s just a belt. The tight pants take longer; the fly fastens with buttons instead of a zipper. My fingers feel raw by the time I’ve undone enough buttons to stroke his hard, hot cock through his damp underwear.
Nathan hisses and jerks.
In that instant,Ipounce. A hefty push against his far shoulder knocks one arm off-kilter, and he loses his balance longenough for me to roll him over. Before he can recover, I yank his underwear down and set my mouth on the tip of his cock.
The same salty-sweet tang as the lust in his scent fills my mouth along with his core scent of hot wax and just-snuffed candle. Although not a combination I’d have expected to enjoy, his taste sends a rush of pleasure through me.
Delicious.
I push his shirt up, then his undershirt. My hands work at the remaining buttons on his fly to free his cock fully.
