Page 38 of One Last Chance

It feels like he got even harder inside of me when I came, or maybe it was just my sensitivity spiking after the orgasm. Either way, I nod and kiss him back. I usually need some time, but the air is thick with our scents and the heat of his body pressing against me rekindles my fire.

“Keep going,” I urge him.

Rowland’s grip that holds my hip steady tightens, and his other hand starts carefully stroking me again. Sweat drips down my forehead, and as I try to lift my head, I realize how strange I feel. Like I would lose balance if I stood up straight. In fact, I’m not sure I could move my legs if I tried. Rowland’s pheromones are way beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’m starting to understand why this is a condition.

But I lean into it instead of fighting. This is natural. And if anything, it means he’s really feeling himself, making me that much more turned on.

“Fuck, Dayton,” he mutters suddenly. I feel his hand grab on my shoulder, squeezing it. “This feels a little…too good. W-we have to stop,” he says sharply.

I frown, turning at him as he looms over my shoulder. “What? Why?”

His breath trembles. “I’m going to… Fuck, I’m going to knot you if— Mhmm, this isdangerous.”

Ah.

Everything inside me sharpens up.

I can only count on the fingers of my hand the number of times I’ve been knotted. Half the instances were unexpected and borderline terrifying with their abrupt intensity. The other two felt nice, good…but not nearly as spine-tingling as the mere idea of Rowland swelling inside of me, locking himself within.

The intoxicating wave of pleasure it sends through me is more than some primal echo of my lizard brain, urging me to get knocked up. Rowland’s care and the alarmed concern in his voice, masking the deep lust, are endearing. Precious.

I want it. I want it so badly it almost scares me.

The moment he tries to pull away, I quickly hook my leg around his so that he has nowhere to back out. “No,” I blurt, meeting his eyes. “Keep going.”

There’s a desperation to his expression. Like he’s holding off from falling with all his might. “Day—”

I angle my pelvis to push against him, making him snap his eyes close and groan. As many pheromones as I can possibly release, I do. It’s like some natural reaction; like my body knowsexactlywhat’s going to happen and how to lead me toward it. Or maybe it's because of how drunk I'm on his scent, and how much it feels like it's completely taking over. As if he's marking me, claiming me as wholly his.

Rowland moans and proceeds to fuck me again relentlessly, thrusting against me as if he’s trying to tear me in half. When he’s as deep as he can, he clenches his arm around my chest, holding me so tightly that I feel every beat of his pounding heart against my skin. Then, the pressure grows within me.

Even though the expansion is gradual, it pushes the air out of my lungs and makes me completely paralyzed for a moment. When it feels like Rowland had filled and stretched my insides to their limits, this explosive, fervent euphoria overtakes me.

I come again, without even touching myself or half without realizing. The pleasure is everywhere, like a whole-body orgasm, multiplied by a hundred.

I’m not sure how long we stay locked and twisted together like that. As I slowly open my eyes and look around, I almost suspect I passed out from the high of it for a moment. Rowland’s deep breaths slowly lose their intensity, and his arm falls loose from holding my chest.

We both collapse on the bed next to each other. Rowland turns to face me.

I smile widely, seeing him all red and dewy and flustered looking.

“Dear god,” he says tiredly, closing his eyes to symbolize how taken he is by what just happened. “It’s been quite some time since I last…Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right,” I say with a playful snort, rolling to rest against his chest.

When Rowland opens his eyes again, concern marks his gaze. “When I get so turned on, I— Did it hurt? Are you okay?” He brushes against my hip carefully, looking like he got in trouble for doing something bad.

He is way too worried about this. It’s adorable.

“Rowe.” Grabbing his chin, I make him face me instead of whatever self-deprecating negative self-talk he is focusing on, darting his eyes all over my naked body. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure you’re not bleeding? It can get pretty intense, even for an omega.”

“I’m not a beta,” I assure him, in the most calming, soothing tone I can muster. He lowers his brows. “My body was quite literally made, and adapted, for this exact thing. It felt good. It felt really fucking good.”

He sighs deeply, resting his forehead against mine. “Thank god,” he whispers. There are clearly some things there holding him back, and I think I can figure out what they are. “It’s just…Hope hated when I knotted her. I began to fear it, no matter how good it felt, because I hurt her every time. She’d cry, and she’d bleed, and I would feel like a monster because…I loved her so much, and the more I loved her, the easier it was for me to lose myself and get in that state. My condition makes it a bit easier to get there.”

“That must’ve been hard on you.” Brushing his hair with my fingers seems to please him. He closes his eyes with a faint smile on his lips.

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