Page 62 of Tamed for Her Pleasure

“Don’t fucking come, or you will not get my knot.”

I eat her out, feeling her twitch and strain under my hands, doing her best not to come because she desperately wants my knot. Her scent saturates me. My fertile woman. Ready for breeding.

Ready for my knot.

I tear myself away, blinking, dizzy, wondering for a stretched moment if she has come… if I have come.

But no, she is still whining into the furs, little noises of begging nonsense, and my cock, stone hard, has not yet spilled my seed.

“I’m going to seat myself to the knot,” I say. “Then I will play with your pretty tits while you get used to the feel of it.”

“I’m ready,” she begs.

Spank! “You’ll be ready when I say you are, little girl.”

She started this, set the room to please me, dressed to entice me to rut, and then presented her pussy to be ruined. She started it; but I will be the one who finishes it.

Clasping my hands over her hips, I pull her open so that I can see the slick treasure.

Her fingers fist the furs beside her head. Good, I want her to feel the fur beneath her as I feel this needy cunt around my cock.

I slide the tip of my cock back and forth over her clit.

We are both shaking with need, both of us on the edge. My knot aches for the feel of her milking me and the ultimate pleasure that will be ours as I finally seat myself to the root.

I slide back past her entrance, and, this time, I push in, lodging the cock head and half of my length inside her cunt.

She clamps down over me.

Fuck. She always feels so good—knotting her will feel even better. I work the length in slowly. Savoring every thrust, savoring the way it feels as I get deeper with every thrust.

“You feel hot inside,” I say. “Hot and slick. Ready to be knotted and bred.”

“Please, yes,” she pants.

I rut her slowly, bumping against her entrance with my knot. She is fertile and will be naturally more limber at such a time. Further, my alpha pheromones have been acting on her for many weeks and months. I believe there will only be a pleasurable kind of stretching as I fill her with my knot. I slide my fingers around the front and play with her fat clit. She jolts and squeezes over me.

I do not want her to come yet, so I keep my touch light, petting her with soft strokes until she begins to twitch and groan, pushing back wantonly for more.

“I believe you are ready. I believe you are ready for my knot.”

Penelope

I have wished for this, craved this; but now that the moment is here, I can admit to being a little nervous.

I shouldn’t be. This is Alfred, the man I love. One might think that, as a brutal barbarian, his ways would be equally brutal.

Oh, he can be rough when he wishes to, but it is always tempered with his love. Even when I have begged him to knot me, he has not. Instead, he has indulged himself in pleasuring me in every way imaginable, except that. Telling me anticipation will heighten the reward.

He is surprisingly patient for such a gruff male.

He also confessed once, when I was particularly needy and demanding, that his mother was an omega who traveled among the clans offering advice and support to betas mating with alphas. It seems she made a firm impression on all her alpha sons of the dangers of rushing this step, of how it can scare or even scar a beta if the alpha is careless or impatient.

He is so much stronger than me. I pride myself on my capabilities, on my ability to best man or woman, to not be vulnerable before anyone, and yet I am vulnerable before him. Alfred does not abuse his power over me; instead, he cherishes my submission. I could not love this man more, but not only do I love him, I respect him.

I am always safe with Alfred. It is the best feeling in the world.

I close my eyes and indulge in the sensations of feeling, touch, and the sound of his low purr as he ruts me with slow, determined strokes. The little nerves along my channel flutter onthe cusp of a climax, one I know shall be denied until the point when he is seated to the root.

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