“Fuck,” I groan, the word tearing out as my knot catches, locking us together. It swells fully, stretching her wide, sealing me inside. I can’t pull out now, even if I wanted to. Her pussy spasms around the knot, pulling me deeper, and she comes hard, shuddering, soaking me through the latex.
Her head is tipped back, her eyes rolled back, and she’s the prettiest thing I have ever seen.
“Nice cunt,” I growl.
She opens her eyes and smiles at me. “Nice cock.”
That’s all it takes.
“Fuck,” I groan again, hips jerking as I follow, come pulsing out in thick ropes, filling the condom deep inside her. This is primal, overwhelming, my body claiming her even as my mind screams, “This is a stranger.”
We rock together, locked, the cab still moving. Her breath fans hot against my ear, body limp in my lap. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, the aftershocks rippling through us both.
“It’s been years since I knotted an Omega,” I murmur, voice hoarse. “My ex... she was Beta. This... fuck, Millie.”
She lifts her head, kisses me soft and slow, tongue tracing my lips. “Trust me, I like this.”
I wish we could do this again—see her tomorrow, pin her to my bed, knot her until neither of us can move. But that’s a line I can’t cross. I have a feeling that if I fuck her again, I’ll want to do it again. And again. And again.
I just got out of a rocky relationship. I should be focusing on my daughter, on my career.
Still, parked along the dark road, her scent lingering, I hold on a little tighter. I want to fuck her again. I need her so much.
This is unreal. All of it.
“Holy shit!” she whispers as she lifts up. I fight my instinct to pull her back down.
We disentangle slowly, the knot deflating enough to slip free. Cum leaks from the condom as I tie it off, stuffing it in my pocket with a grimace. Millie straightens her leggings, cheeks flushed, but her eyes meet mine without regret.
“Where now?” she asks, voice soft.
My place so I can fuck you at least four more times before morning. I want to wake up buried in you, I think.
“I can drive you home,” I say instead.
She nods, but she doesn’t move. “Thanks!”
I lean in and kiss her once again, just to savor the moment.
Sunlight filters in through half-drawn curtains, cutting pale lines across the unfamiliar ceiling. For a second, I don’t move. The weight of the dream—or what I think might’ve been a dream—presses down on my chest like fog.
Millie’s face. The sound of her voice when she said my name. The smell of her hair, sweet and impossible.
My hands flex against the sheets before I can stop them.
I sit up slowly, squinting against the light. The house is quiet, too quiet for how loud my head feels. My shirt’s crumpled on the floor, my jeans tossed over the chair.
I remember dropping her off—her apartment building tucked on the far side of town. She’d smiled when she got out, soft and sleepy, said something about seeing me around. I remember her scent in the car long after she was gone.
After that… I drove. Windows down. Air cold enough to sting. Trying to shake the feel of her off my skin.
Now it’s morning, and my body still aches with the memory of her. I drag a hand down my face, groaning.
“Damn!” I haven’t had a one-night stand since I was maybe twenty years old. I’d told myself I was past that phase, but last night changed something in me.
It was in the way it felt sitting next to her, the way she looked at me, the way she came around my cock… it was like something cracked open that I didn’t even know I’d sealed shut.
One night with her and I feel fundamentally changed.
