Page 22 of Broken By the Battleship

Even in estrous, when all she wants is to sleep and fuck, she eats for the sake of her brothers. I selfishly use this to my advantage.

With her belly full and my seed still trickling from her pussy, she slips into sleep between one breath and the next even as her core cramps in want.

It kills me, but I settle her into the nest and tuck the blankets over her before wrapping a towel around my waist and heading to the door.

Less than three minutes later, I toss the towel onto the floor and climb in beside my omega. She curls into me and grinds her pussy against my hip in her sleep.

It’s too much temptation. I wake her with my fingers pinching her hard clit and my cock sinking into her tight, wet heat. Her needy, strained gasp tests my control.

I satisfy us both with long, savage thrusts of my hips, the pain of my wounds inconsequential compared to the pleasure she gives me.

After several life-altering moments where she clamps down so hard I skyrocket into bliss and her eyes roll to the back of her head and slick drenches our torsos, thighs, and nest, I seat myself just in time to fit my ballooning knot behind her pubic bone.

We shatter together. We float in bliss together. Our broken pieces gather and create a new whole. We become one. Together.

I roll onto my back and trace my fingers up and down her spine, enjoying her weight on me as she snuggles into my chest and accepts my seed deep into her womb. With our bodies locked together and our souls intertwined, we slip into a much-needed doze.

When my knot pops free, I roll over, pin her knees to her shoulders, and seal my mouth over her core.

Her dainty fingers weave into my curls. I growl and enjoy a few extra licks to reward her for her impatience before filling my mouth, blocking the flow with my palm, and ferrying my prize to her lips. She accepts my offering with a low moan of delight. Our tongues duel. Her viciousness extrapolates as the taste of our mixed essences dissipates, so I nip her lip in warning and carry another mouthful from between her legs to her tongue.

For several euphoric moments, we bask in the mess of our joining, but instead of rolling onto my back and settling her onto her favorite perch—my chest—I fling the top of our nest to the side and pull her into a sitting position.

She grumbles and tries to burrow into the filthy blankets, but I rise and stalk to the dresser with her in tow. I take great pleasure in her unhappy hiss as I lift her by the hips and set her on the frigid surface.

“Don’t move, kitten, or I’ll knot you on the counter and keep your surprise to myself,” I murmur against her temple.

She shivers and wraps her arms around herself, but watches me with dazed, hungry eyes.

I pull a pair of shorts up my legs and grimace as I tuck my dirty, half hard cock into the fabric. Despite being more satiated than ever before, desire builds at the base of my spine, creating pressure in my balls and partially inflating my knot. All because my omega remains in estrous.

I work against our biological instincts and dress my female in the shirt I wore before I found her. My pheromones waft from the fabric, but it isn’t enough. After pulling my old pajama pants up her legs and tying the drawstring around her tiny waist, I wrap the filthiest blanket from our nest around her shoulders and cradle her to my bare chest.

Her alert, worried eyes glance up at me as I open the door to our den. She stiffens and sneaks a hand out of the blanket to splay her fingers over my sternum, but I growl and tuck the fabric back into place, hiding her from the neck down.

I stomp down the hall and turn the corner before stopping in front of the closest door.

“What are—”

I cut her off with a growl and shoulder the door open. Little voices stop mid-sentence and two sets of sky-blue eyes swing up from the carpet. Her brothers abandon their card game and shuffle to the far side of the couch before holding hands. A tiny thumb disappears into the smallest youngling’s mouth, but neither boy cowers.

A sliver of pride sneaks into my chest as they stand tall despite the fear stench permeating from their pores.

My kitten wriggles in my arms.

“Let me down,” she demands.

I squeeze her to my chest and release a low growl. The scent of her tears clogs my nostrils, but I hold firm until she works through the initial rush of adrenaline and stops struggling against me. Her heart pounds so hard I feel the percussion through her back. She aims frantic eyes up at me.

I lean down and lick the sweat off her temple, needing her taste fresh on my tongue before I release her.

Her lashes widen in shock when I set her on her feet. Unable to turn away even though the only people in the suite are two younglings, my omega, and myself, I step backward while keeping my chest facing my kitten, ready to lunge forward and scoop her up at the slightest provocation.

She rushes forward and almost trips on the blanket. Her brothers flick uncertain glances my way, but they move as one to meet her halfway around the couch.

She drops to her knees and wraps her arms around the mini masculine versions of herself. Their noses scrunch at the smells wafting off her, but the youngest boy ducks his head and burrows into her chest as though his entire body might fit inside her ribcage.

Jealous fury rips through me, and I step forward before regaining my control.

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