Page 64 of Hard Knot

Her voice is sultry, playful as she speaks.

“Such a shame. Despite my rebellious streak, I’m willing to behave...if my Alpha commands it.”

My heart pounds as her fingers trail down the front of my shirt, unbuttoning it with deliberate slowness. She pauses halfway, her touch lingering over the tattoos etched into my skin.

For a moment, I expect her to expose them fully, but instead, she pulls the fabric together, concealing them as if shielding some sort of secret. It’s unexpected, or I dare say merciful of her to do.

Personally, I don’t like anyone seeing my tattoos. Being naked in general since the incident has been a difficult task for me. I don’t mind around Carter and Felix because I trust them. Anyone else, not so much.

Nakedness is a form of vulnerability and weakness I don’t want to portray so easily to the world. I know how cruel it can be when used against you, and I guess I never want such openness to be used against me again.

Never again.

Her whispered words tickle against my lips.

“Tell me what you want, Holmes. Do you want me to stop? Or…” Her tone drops, dripping with mischief. “Would you prefer I help relieve that tension you’re trying so hard to hide?”

My jaw tightens, and I curse the silk blindfold covering my eyes.

This infernal barrier has heightened everything else—her scent, her voice, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. I can’t see her, but my mind is painting vivid pictures of what shemight look like, especially when I have the visual of her in that picture from early.

That’s the most dangerous part. Allowing my imagination to lead in lifting my expectations of this Omega to a tempting level of unrealistic wants and needs.

She slides off my lap with a fluid grace that feels almost rehearsed. I hear the faint rustle of fabric as she sinks to her knees, the shift of her weight against the plush carpet beneath my desk.

My senses are sharper than ever, tuned entirely to her movements. I feel her hands rest lightly on my thighs, the heat of her palms seeping through the fabric of my slacks.

“Such a good Omega,” she purrs, her tone attempting to drip with sarcasm but it’s more powerful than that. The sound of her words is laced with something that’s triggering my Alpha instincts to the core. If she can speak so musically beautiful with a slight rumble with that purr, I can only imagine how she moans. “Doing exactly what’s expected of me.”

Her hands glide upward, stopping just at the buckle of my belt.

My breath catches, and for the first time in years, I’m unsure of how to respond. She’s undoing me, one agonizing touch at a time, and I hate how much I want her to continue.

I could tell her to stop.I should tell her to stop. But my silence betrays me.

“Holmes,” Victoria’s voice cuts through the tension, brittle with outrage. “Refuse! Stop this punishment nonsense!”

I lean back in my chair, tilting my head slightly as I release the tension in my shoulders. My voice is steady, low. My fingers move with purpose, unbuckling my belt and unzipping my pants.

“Finish what you started.”

The room falls silent, except for the sound of Elizabeth’s soft exhale.

The cool air brushes against my skin, and I grit my teeth, every nerve ending in my body on fire. I can’t see her, but I feel the heat of her breath against me, the feather-light touch of her fingertips as she teases the waistband of my briefs.

“Good,” she murmurs, her voice laced with satisfaction. “Because my father didn’t raise a weak bitch. I’m not one to cower to a challenge or a punishment.”

The first touch of her tongue is a shock to my system, a deliberate flick against the tip of my length that makes my hands clench into fists.

She takes her time, trailing her tongue along the head, tasting me with languid precision. My hips jerk involuntarily, and I curse under my breath, the silk blindfold amplifying every sensation tenfold.

She works slowly, deliberately, as though she’s savoring every moment.

Inch by inch, she takes me into her mouth, her tongue gliding along the underside of my length. The heat of her mouth is exquisite, her movements unhurried and torturous. I can feel every inch of her, every subtle shift of her lips and tongue as she explores me.

In the darkness behind the blindfold, my mind conjures images of her.

I picture her hair tied back, the curve of her lips wrapped around me, the slight hollow of her cheeks as she takes me deeper. I can’t help but imagine her—how she might look, the expression in her eyes as she drives me to the brink.

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