Page 50 of Knot So Social

“I missed you,” I say, kissing her hair. “All of you. Even your scent.”

Deeper I press, until she’s mewling in delight. She’s so fucking wet inside, it’s possible she’s already come once. Carefully I insert a second finger, rubbing until she’s clinging to me so tight her nails break my skin. She tips her head back, eyes ablaze, and I get a third finger inside. Then I fuck her with my hand until she’s sobbing and screaming, gushing across my palm like the sensitive woman she is.

“So fucking beautiful,” I mutter, watching her fall apart. I fist my cock and stroke, eager to be part of the action.

“N-not here,” she murmurs, leaning on me.

“Okay, sweetheart.” I flick the shower off and pick her up.

Tracey squeals and kicks her toes, making our slippery skin bump even more. I carry her to the bed, snagging a towel along the way before I place her on the comforter. The diffuser scent lies thick on the covers, soaking them with a layer of peppermint. I’ll add her honeysuckle aroma to the mix, until she’s too exhausted to argue with me.

“Hurry,” she pants, still in the throes of her orgasms.

I growl softly, the alpha nature within not needing any encouragement. I spread her knees and line myself up, pressing in slowly. I fit easily, but I want to treasure this moment of our reunion.

“Joel!” she whines, hips rising with eagerness.

“All in good time,” I purr, trapping her wrists down on the sheets. “Let me enjoy this.”

She feels good, soft and warm inside. And so wet. Memories of an omega from long ago surface. Betas like Tracey don’t usually get that same spongy texture inside; but today it’s so good.

“Babe, what’s going on?” I croon, thrusting deeper just to test the plushness again. “Why do you feel so amazing?”

“Because you missed me, silly,” she says with a giggle.

“I did.” I thrust into her, sliding her body up the bed. “So much it’s driving me crazy.”

I want to pour out my heart to her and tell her all the things I thought about after she apologized, but I can barely form words with her soft skin under my hands and that befuddling smoke clouding the room.

I grunt and thrust again, chasing her sliding body. She groans and flails on the covers, looking for grip. One hand flies over her head, knocking the pillow.

“Tracey, you’re—”

Her fingers disturb something under the pillow, and her body spasms. Black lace peeks from under her hand.

“What did you get?” I ask with a chuckle, reaching over her to lift the pillow.

Half tucked under the sheet sits a pair of black lace underwear. Men’s underwear. A G-string to be precise, perfectly matching the design of her black corset. My blood runs cold, my erection dissolving in a heartbeat.

“What the fuck?” I wheeze.

“They’re a gift for you,” she blurts out. “But I wasn’t sure you’d like them.”

Her voice comes from a long way off as I bunch the scrap of cloth in my hand. The scent I’ve been catching on her, the one almost obliterated by the diffusers, explodes in my nose. I know what this is, but I can’t bring myself to say it.

My limp cock slips free of her hold, shock numbing every part of my body. Moisture catches on my fingertips from the lace.

“They’re used,” I murmur. “These things are fucking used.”

“No,” she says, eyes rolling with panic. “I was just rubbing them on myself, thinking of you.” Her honeysuckle aroma sours, turning old like compost.

“Lies!” I roar, stepping back from the bed. “You forget I’m an alpha. I can smell the lies in your fucking scent.”

Her expression morphs, from fear to anger. Lurching upright, she pulls herself to the head of the bed. “So what? You were gone, and I needed company. You’re such a fucking prude. People pack up all the time, you know.”

“When they discuss it and choose a packmate together! Not like this. Never like this!” My heart freefalls into a bottomless darkness. “Who is he?”

She shrugs. “A guy from work. You haven’t met him.”