I leaned back, pulling her with me, changing the angle so I hit the deepest part of her. The friction was incredible. Bourbon and sea salt swirled in the air, creating a scent that was pure intoxication.
I felt the change before she did.
The base of my cock began to swell. The biological imperative, the one I had suppressed with cold showers and strict rules for fifteen years, woke up and took the wheel. The knot. The lock. The evolutionary guarantee that the Omega wouldn't escape until the job was done.
"Tessa," I warned, my voice strangled. "I'm swelling. I'm going to knot you."
"Do it," she begged, pushing back against me, her internal muscles fluttering, trying to milk the release from me. "Lock me down. Don't let me leave."
"Never," I vowed.
I let go. I stopped thinking about the bridge, the contract, the leak, the career. I held onto her hips and poured myself into her.
The climax hit me like a grand mal seizure. White light exploded behind my eyelids. I roared, a guttural, animalistic sound that had no place in a boardroom. I emptied myself into the protection, trusting the latex, trusting the moment.
And then, the catch.
The knot flared, expanding rapidly at the base, sliding past the ring of muscle and catching.
Tessa screamed, a high, sharp sound of being stretched to capacity, and then collapsed onto the desk.
We were stuck.
I panted, my chest heaving against her back, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The silence rushed back into the room, but it was different now. It wasn't empty. It was full.
"I can't move," she whispered, a note of panic creeping into her voice as the reality of the biological lock set in. She tried to shift forward, but my body held her fast. "Anders, I'm stuck."
This was the moment.
This was the nightmare scenario for the teenage boy on the stage. To be trapped, forced to be part of the spectacle and unable to walk away.
I leaned forward. I draped my upper body over hers, covering her completely. My chest pressed against her back, my cheek resting against her damp hair. I wrapped my arms around her, crossing them over her chest, creating a cage of bone and muscle.
"I know," I murmured into her ear. "We're locked."
"It's... it's intense," she gasped, the aftershocks of the pleasure rolling through her. "I feel full. Too full."
"Breathe," I instructed, syncing my breathing with hers. "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."
"You can't go anywhere," she pointed out shakily.
"I wouldn't if I could," I said.
I lifted my head and looked at the others.
Daniel was standing by the hearth, watching us with dark, heavy eyes, his chest rising and falling. Simon was seated on the floor, sketching in the air with a trembling finger.
"Pack," I said to them.
Daniel nodded. He walked over, slow and heavy. He didn't try to touch her sexually, I was occupying that space entirely, but he placed a massive hand on her head, stroking her hair.
"Good job, Tessa," Daniel rumbled. "You did so good."
"Simon," I called.
Simon crawled over. He knelt by the desk, right in Tessa's line of sight. He took her hand where it clutched the edge of the desk.
"I'm here," Simon whispered. "I'm watching. You're okay."
