Her clit throbs against my palm, and her wetness drips around our fingers. She rolls her hips, grinding on my hand, and the subtle catch of pleasure in her breath is enough to send my arousal back into overdrive.
I brush my thumb over her nipple, earning a low gasp. Aching for more of that, I find her other nipple with my mouth.
She draws a sharp breath past her teeth—fuck, she’s sensitive.
As I look up, her eyes pin my soul in my body. I feel every throb and clench of her cunt, the subtle pebbling of her areola against my tongue, the heat wherever our skin meets. I hearevery quiver in her breath, every low purr, every subtle moan. And I smell a thunderstorm rolling in from the ocean, casting rain over a forest wet and rich and teeming with life, loam against my fingers and lightning crackling in the air.
And I know what she’s thinking with each roll of her hips, every throb of her clit. I finally understand exactly how inside of me I need her to be. I’d shoved the concept of knots far, far from my brain, but the feeling of her thrusting against me cuts through every veil, and my ass tingles as I ache for her presence.
I suck harder at the nipple in my mouth and massage my thumb over her other breast, hooking my fingers in her cunt with each thrust.
Her breath tightens and quickens, and there’s a tinge of desperation in the furrow of her brow, an edge of disappointment in her quiet moans.
She’s honest, like this.
This isn’t how either of us wants this to end, not really.
But fuck, it’s going to feel good.
Christine curls over me, hips shaking. The word that falls from her lips, possessive and devastated, shatters me to my core.
“Mylo…”
Then she crests her climax, unraveling around me. Her cunt squeezes my fingers, tight and rhythmic, and her hand drops to the back of my neck, pressing me tighter into her breast.
Even though there’s nothing touching my cock, I tip over my own edge, pouring out onto the floor. Her pleasure is the most potent spell, and this time, true relief is within reach. Still shaking with her own aftershocks, she moves her hand to my cum-slick cock, stroking hard and fast.
I shake with overstimulation, then hurtle into a decisive orgasm, one that actually drains the heat from my head.
We come down together, breathing hard, with my cheek against her breast, her hand on my cock, my hand in her cunt.
This time, neither of us is in a hurry to pull away.
Until someone knocks on the door.
“It’s occupied,” Christine barks.
“I gotta piss,” comes the muffled reply.
“Piss outside.”
Even through a door, an alpha bark is hard to resist, and there’s no further protest.
I’ve already slipped around Christine and pulled out a handful of paper towels, dampening them in the sink before wiping myself clean.
She frowns, as if disappointed at the waste, but I think if her tongue hits my cock again I might actually pass out. She pulls her thong and jeans back up, then slips her shirt on over her head as I arrange myself in my tucking briefs.
“Ready to head back to the party?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I could use some fresh air.” My senses are still overly sharp, but we can’t exactly stay here.
“Wanna go up to the roof?”
I catch myself in a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
