Page 29 of Knot the Stray

Grinding the thick base right against her sensitive outer folds with every downward thrust, the intense friction drags out her pleasure. She hovers right on the edge of a climax. Thrashing against the sheets, her fingernails dig half-moon crescents into my shoulders.

“Please, Edward!” Her voice breaks on a desperate whine. “Don’t hold back!”

The intense pressure pushes Jessie over the precipice. A devastating, full-body orgasm rips through her system. She screams my name into the quiet room, tossing her head back against the pillows. Her inner walls contract around my shaft in crushing spasms.

The crushing grip shatters my last ounce of restraint. Pushing my hips forward with force, I pop my swollen knot deep inside her tight opening. The knot locks into place, securing us together in a perfect fit.

I pump my release deep inside her core. My hips twitch with the force of the climax. A loud groan tears from my throat as I empty myself into her heat. I collapse against her chest, burying my face in her damp neck to catch my breath. We lie tangled together in the silent apartment, our chests heave in unison.

I wait for the knot to deflate before easing my hips back, pulling my soft length out of her slick pussy. We skip getting dressed. We sit up right there in the unmade bed, naked and tangled in the blankets.

I slide off the mattress, walking bare across the room to the kitchen. I grab the aluminum containers from the small table. The foil lost its heat a long time ago. I carry the food back to the bed.

I sit up and press my bare back against the wall, stretching my legs out over the mattress. Jessie crawls over and settles right between my spread knees. She leans back, resting her spine flush against my chest.

I hold the foil container of garlic bread. She balances the tray of penne pasta on her lap. She stabs a piece of pasta with her plastic fork and lifts it to my mouth.

We trade bites back and forth in the quiet room.

“I owe you for tonight.” Jessie leans her head back against my collarbone. “Having you handle the front lobby kept me from losing my mind. You make a great veterinary receptionist, Edward.”

“I aim to please.” I offer her a piece of garlic bread. “Seeing you in your element gave me a huge rush. You run that clinic like a boss.”

A faint flush creeps up her neck. She sets her plastic fork down in the foil tray. “I never had someone step back and just let me work before. People always try to take over. I appreciate you trusting me.”

I press a soft kiss to her bare shoulder. Jessie sighs, melting her weight back into my solid chest. She tilts her head, accepting the affection with a soft smile. A bright spark of hope ignites in my chest that she wants to stay for good.

A Day Off

Jessie

The autumn wind whips down Main Street, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. I shove my hands into the pockets of my light jacket and stroll down the cobblestone sidewalk. Taking a Saturday off offers a rare treat. The town board hired a permanent receptionist and a certified vet tech.

They take the crushing workload right off my shoulders. A paper sign taped to the clinic glass lists my cell number for true emergencies. The nearest 24-hour vet sits over an hour away, and leaving the town high and dry remains out of the question. Outside of life-or-death situations, I have the freedom to explore Willowside. For the first time in years, I avoid checking my phone every five minutes.

Today marks 60 days since I agreed to let them court me.

The guys cook dinner for me, they fix my van, and they fuck me brainless. They hold back on asking me to let them mark me. They let me call the shots. Calm acceptance replaces the constant, buzzing anxiety that used to live in my chest. The urge to pack my bags and disappear into the night stays quiet.

I look at the colorful storefronts lining the street. Pumpkins and dried corn stalks decorate the wooden porches. Locals walk their dogs and carry canvas shopping bags. Alphas nod in greeting as I pass, keeping a respectful distance. The intense, oppressive pheromones that clog the air in major cities fade away here. I tend to view small towns as a trap, a place where Omegas get boxed into domestic corners. Willowside breaks all the rules.

My natural vanilla and toasted sugar scent drifts around me. Ditching the suppressants offers a huge relief. The synthetic pills make my body ache, and running without them lets my system reset. It serves as a test, too. Walking around an unsuppressed Omega forces the town and my Alphas to prove they meant every word about respecting my autonomy. So far, no one treats me like a burden.

I stroll past the local diner and a hardware store before a vibrant window display catches my eye. Small wooden crates of autumn flowers line the entrance of a shop called Rose's. Brightening up the dull apartment sounds like a great idea, provided the plants survive Winston. I pull the glass door open. The bell above the frame chimes a bright note.

The scent of fresh soil, damp greenery, and sweet blossoms hits my nose. I step further into the warm space, scanning the galvanized buckets for cat-safe options.

Two women stand near a huge display of white roses. A worker rings up a customer at the cash register in the back, leaving these two to browse the arrangements.

One woman with warm brown eyes and light brown hair inspects a white rose, checking the delicate petals. Her hair hangs down in loose waves, hiding her neck, but the ghost of a faded bite mark peeks through the strands. Bearing a permanent bond keeps her natural scent muted and contained. She still radiates absolute confidence. My own unsuppressed Omega scent flares a bit in response, a subtle vanilla greeting.

Both women look up from the display. They offer bright, welcoming smiles. A spark of recognition hits the brunette. She steps away from the flowers and walks over.

"You must be the new veterinarian in town." She extends her hand. "I'm Sophia. I run the wedding planning business down the street. I saw you at Luca's a couple of times. Luca is one of my Alphas."

"Jessie." I shake her hand, noting her firm grip. "I do my job. The animals around here love getting into trouble."

"Tell me about it." The second woman with bright red hair holds two cardboard cups of coffee. She possesses a quiet, clever demeanor, her green eyes scanning me with keen interest. "I'm Lacey. I do custom portraits for Sophia's wedding clients. I'm tagging along today for moral support. Her current bride wants a specific shade of white for the centerpieces, and the drama never stops."