Page 92 of Knot Their Starlet

His words make my head spin.

What in the world?

“So when you finally wanted me. Outside of your heat. Outside of you needing me, I thought it was finally happening. That you were finally ready. And then she went ahead and ruined everything. The night of the Grammys and again now.”

“Again now?” I repeat like a parrot, seemingly incapable of normal speech.

“Yeah, now. Because you want her for real. I can’t pretend it’s just for the cameras. I don’t think it ever really fuckin’ was.”

“And that... ruins things?”

Eli lets out a soft huff, sitting straight and reaching out towards my face. He grips my chin and forces me to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, Beck. ‘Cause I’ve been wanting things to be real ever since you rode my knot and came all over my chest that first time you went into heat.”

My cheeks instantly erupt, my blush probably reaching my ears.

“What, now you’re getting all shy?” His voice is pitched so low it vibrates through my chest, shooting right to my dick.

He notices.

Of course he fucking notices.

He notices everything.

Not only does he notice everything, but he doesn’t grant me the mercy of ignoring it either.

“I just wish your mind could catch up to your body,” he growls, reaching down and rubbing my growing hard-on through my sweatpants. “Tell me this is all for me. Not for her. Me.”

He squeezes my shaft expertly through the fabric of my pants. I let out a breathy groan, leaning forward and resting my forehead against the bare skin of his torso. It’s hot, like the surface of a blazing sun.

My mind buzzes like it’s on fire.

I’ve definitely had hard-ons because of Andi. Like when she was pressed up against me, topless, during that photoshoot. Or when we were in the booth at Musso & Frank's. Honestly, now that I think about it, I’m hard around Andi often.

But that’s the last thing I should say to Eli. Especially when he has his hand on my cock.

“I asked a question,” Eli growls.

All my thoughts stutter when he reaches past the waistband of my sweatpants. The skin of his hand is rough from the years he’s spent in the gym. A lot of alphas have more muscular physiques because of their hormones. The only requirement is looking in the direction of a dumbbell once a month, or so.

Eli, on the other hand?

His muscular bulk is earned.

“This—this is for you,” I stutter, letting out another long groan as he strokes my shaft, twisting around the head.

“Good boy.”

The praise has a thrill shooting through me.

“You’re mine,” he growls, pulling his hand from my pants.

I let out an embarrassing whine.

“Such a needy, pathetic little omega for me.” He scrapes his teeth against the shell of my ear, making me melt further.

I shove at the waistband of my pants, pushing them past my hips. My cock bobs between us, weeping at the head, begging for attention.