Page 115 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

Our hands fell together, lowering the gun from where it was pointed downrange. The tension in my body didn’t release, though; it only coiled tighter as Tommas guided the weapon slowly, deliberately downward. He commanded every ounce of my attention, and my breath caught in my throat as I realized what he was doing.

He kissed the side of my neck, then grazed his nose along my skin and inhaled deeply. “Your scent is going to kill me,” he groaned, voice thick with yearning.

The cold metal of the barrel pressed against the thin fabric of my leggings, right where my heat was most intense.

forty-one

KITANIA

A shiver ran through me,part fear, part overwhelming desire. The edge of the barrel grazed over my core—rubbing. And it feltincredible.

This was a line I never imagined crossing. And yet, my pussy clenched and my legs wobbled. Tommas banded a powerful arm around my middle, steadying me, holding me firmly against his chest.

“Tommy...” I breathed, unsure what I was going to say. Whether his name was a plea to stop or to continue.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he traced slow, tantalizing circles with the tip of the gun, the pressure feather-light but enough to make me gasp and clutch at his forearms. My body arched into his involuntarily, seeking more of whatever dangerous pleasure he was offering.

“Do you trust me?” he asked finally, his lips so close to my ear that I could almostfeelthe words.

Did I? Trust was such a complicated thing for me. It didn’t come easily, but with these men—my Alphas, mymates—I trusted they cared for me, trusted that they wanted what was best for me. Always.

“Yes.”

The tension in my body didn’t release, but it transformed, taking on a new shape. The apprehension that had gripped me loosened its hold, replaced by an electric anticipation. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t forcing anything. He was giving me the choice, the control to allow this or ask him to stop. If I so much as uttered the word, he’d let me go. It gave me all the courage I needed.

I bit my lip, eyes fluttering shut as I leaned back into him. “Don’t—Don’t stop,” I whispered.

With painstaking slowness, he moved the barrel, the pressure just enough to tease. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one feeding the fire that roared through my veins. Every nerve ending screamed for more.

I was so slick, wetness seeped through my leggings. I could almost imagine it slicking the black metal of the gun, making it gleam. Desire coursed through me, and my heart pounded in my ears. I moaned.

Tommy’s responding hum was a low, deep rumble. “That’s it, Butterfly. Let me make you feel good.”

His hands were steady, skilled, every motion a calculated seduction. With agonizingly slow strokes, he guided the gun over my clit, teasing, making me burn for him. I moved my hips instinctively, grinding against the barrel, seeking the friction my body so desperately craved.

“I can smell how badly you want this,” he growled, his timbre a rough caress. “How badly you want me.”

A whimper escaped my lips. His words, his scent, the sheer illicitness of what we were doing—it was all too much and notenough at the same time. I was on the edge, teetering, ready to plunge into an abyss of pure, unadulterated need.

“Please,” I begged, not even sure what I was asking for. Relief? More torture? Him?

The gun disappeared, and in the next instant, my leggings were yanked down, panties and all. Tommy helped me step out of them, then stripped my top and bra off too until I was standing utterly naked before him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped as he rose, retaking his place behind me.

This time, however, he focused on one of my breasts, his fingers alternating between gentle squeezes, firm kneading, and teasing strokes over my nipple. Those light circles, plucks, and flicks only heightened my need as the gun met my center once more. Only now, it slid directly between my folds.

I panted, and my hands flew to grip Tommy’s forearms, holding on for dear life.

“Feel how hard you make me,” he murmured, pressing his hips against my ass.

I could feel the rigid length of him straining behind his jeans. The knowledge that he was just as affected as I was sent a thrill through me, making my knees weak and my core tighten.

He kissed the side of my neck, alighting shivers that raced through me, then traced a line up to my jaw. “Do you like this?” he questioned, breath hot against my skin. “Like the way it feels?”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t form the words. All I could do was nod, my head moving in small, desperate jerks.

The gun slid lower, then lower still, until the muzzle of it dipped into my entrance, all hard steel against soft, tender flesh. I gasped, my body tensing like a drawn bow. He was winding me tighter and tighter, each new experience a deliberate pull on the string, threatening to release me into a shattering climax.

---