A wave of panic crashes into me. We talked about this. She gave the green light. But green light as a last resort and green light freely chosen are two different things and I know the difference.
I've thought about this. Our first time. I wanted her to want me. Specifically me, Graham, the man, the one who stays up too late reading about drug interactions and the psychology of color on omegas’ moods. Not just the nearest available alpha knot while her body holds her hostage.
I wanted her to pick me.
I mean, she is picking me. She pointed right at me. But is that her, or is that her omega?
I don't know. And she can't tell me right now. And she needs me.
So I push it down and I help her.
“Are you sure?” Saint’s voice is shredded. “Let’s see if his fingers will work, instead.”
She vigorously shakes her head. “No. Knot. Now.”
“Shh,” I say against her ear. “I’ve got you. Lay back and let me help.”
Saint helps me move her legs apart and I ease my arm around her, two fingers on her nub. She bolts upright, slapping at the sleeves on my coat.
“Hurts.”
Why the hell did I wear this scratchy jacket? An omega's skin can't take it. I fumble to yank it off. I have one arm free when Lark'skeening whine fills the car. Slick gushes from her as a brutal cramp twists her body, soaking straight through to drench my pants.
“Fuck. I’ll do it,” Saint huffs. He angles his body, so that he can ease her with his good hand. She struggles against him.
“No,” she whines. It tears through my chest. She’s hurting and I can’t take it anymore.
Silas must feel the same. His bark cuts through the car like a whip. “Give our omega what she’s fucking begging for, Graham.”
Saint’s eyes widen but he helps me lift her enough so that I can undo my pants and push them down my hips.
I reach between her thighs. She’s soaked. I don’t have to do anything to ready her, but I dip my fingers inside anyway. She leans her head back on my shoulder and grinds into my hand.
“More.” A plea. Low and slow. “Knot. I need—”
“Give her your fucking knot,” Silas nearly barks from the front seat.
I lift her hips again and position myself at her entrance, and then I slip in. She stills. The first inch sinks in with a wet, obscene sound. She’s molten. So tight it makes my eyes roll back, but so slick I keep sliding deeper whether I want to or not. I know my cock is longer than normal. Omegas are made for knots, but I don’t want to hurt her.
“Deeper,” she grunts.
I give her every inch in one slow stroke until I’m buried as deep as I can go. She immediately starts to ride, leaning forward and holding on to Silas’ headrest. She takes me like she was made for it. Her muscles clamp and suck, urging me deeper.
“Fuck…fuck,” I groan.
“Knot,” she whimpers as she rocks back and forth chasing the knot that isn’t locked yet. I’ve never been this hard in my life.
“For fuck’s sake,” Saint growls. “Make her come or I’m going to do it for you.”
I feel my knot swelling, catching at her entrance. “I’ve never knotted an omega,” I rasp.
“You won’t hurt her,” Silas says. Certain.
But what if I do? What if she regrets it?
Lark reaches back, placing her hand on my wrist. “Deeper,” she urges.
Saint says nothing, just grabs her hip with his good hand and shoves her down at the same moment I thrust up. Her pussy resists for one second, then my knot locks inside.
