Page 55 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

“Creed.” I don’t even recognize my voice when I say his name, pant it.

His gaze sharpens for a moment, those dark gray eyes of his scanning me lazily from head to toe, even under the blanket I have draped over me. “You want it, omega?” He asks, not reaching to touch me. “You want me to make you come?”

I hesitate, unable to make myself say the words. I do want it. He’ll be able to make me come better than I ever could myself, but I’m still a fucked up tangle of emotion that I can’t seem to find my way out of, can’t comb into neat little strands.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” Creed murmurs softly, reaching out to run a knuckle down my cheek. “You’re needing, wanting, and I can help. That’s all I want, baby girl, to help you feel better, to make you feel good. Let me replace your bad memory with something good, please.” As he pleads with me, his hand slides down over my chest to slip under the hem of my sweater, resting on the skin of my stomach just above the waistband of my leggings.

It’s a mistake. I know it’s a mistake, but it’s been weeks of living with them, of being surrounded by their scents, of making myself come near silently on my fingers, of unsatisfying orgasms. And I can’t seem to shut down the idea.

I need this. Maybe if I let him make me come, I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Really, truly sleep. Maybe I’ll finally be able to shake this sense ofwanting. Creed’s staring down at me, his big palm burning into the skin of my stomach, hot and heavy and rough. It feels so good. Too good.

I give a jerky nod. “Okay.”

Victory flares in his eyes and he bends, his mouth heading toward mine like he thinks he’ll get to kiss me. I want him to—God, do I want to taste him—but kissing is… too intimate, too emotional, so I turn my head at the last second. His lips touch my cheek and he lingers there, his body tense for a moment before he makes a displeased noise. It doesn’t stop him from kissing over my jaw, down my neck. He laves my collarbone and the tops of my breasts as he groans, like my skin is the best thing he’s ever tasted. Like he can’t get enough.

That big hand of his slides down my stomach into the waistband of my leggings. He grunts when he feels how wet I am, though it shouldn’t be a surprise. My wanting them was never the issue. I’m always ready for them, always willing. My body loves what he can do to me, for me. My heart is an entirely different matter.

“So slick, omega,” he murmurs against my jaw. “So wet for me.”

I pant out a breath and impatiently shuck off my leggings. I can’t let this drag on, can’t let him savor it. If I do, there’s a greater chance of him making me feel something more than just pleasure. I need him to make me come fast and then I can move on and hopefully pretend like this never happened.

Like I wasn’t this weak.

“Baby girl,” Creed mutters, his finger slowly, slowly circling my clit with barely any pressure at all. A tease. “Stay with me. Stay in this moment.” It’s too damn intimate, just like kissing. If he tries to make this more than what it is, I won’t survive it.

“Shut up,” I hiss at him, shifting to lie flat on my back. “No talking.” Hurt flashes in his eyes and I have to grit my teeth against apologizing, telling him I didn’t mean it. He can say all the sweet and intimate things he wants to me. But I need boundaries. It’s already a mistake to let him touch me. Fuck me. “You said it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

My voice comes out small, so small, because I don’t really want to hurt him, but I can’t do this with him right now either.His lips firm as he nods, pressing harder against my clit. “You’re right. I’ll just focus on making you come as many times as I can, shall I?”

Before I can respond, he drops onto his belly between my legs and licks. My toes curl, my head presses into the soft cushion, and I moan. There isn’t any helping it. It’s been so long since anything has felt this good.

Since Jude in his bedroom before it all turned to shit.

“Fuck,” I gasp out and Creed groans into me, his tongue doing things that my already pleasure soaked brain can’t comprehend. Swirl, thrust, swirl, thrust, swipe, swirl, thrust. The rhythm has my hips pressing up, trying to get closer to him, to offer him more of myself. My legs fall open wider and one of my hands fist in his hair, holding him against me as he feasts on me like a man starved.

Maybe he is. Maybe he’s missed this as much as I have. Maybe he’s missed me more with the hungry noises he’s making as he slurps up every drop of my slick. Or he tries to at least, but I’m producing so much it’s soaking into the couch under me, marking it with the scent of my arousal.

Maybe that should embarrass me, that their couch will forever carry a whiff of my pineapple and chili scent, but I really can’t bring myself to be.

It feels right.

Like every surface in their house should smell like me, like them, like the five of us together.

That is a dangerous train of thought.

I push it aside and focus on the sensations of my body, on what it needs. “Please,” I pant out. “Please, Creed, more.”

He hums against me before lifting his head and piercing me with those sharp eyes of his. “You need more, baby girl? You need something inside you that you can clench down on?”

I whimper and nod. “Yes.”

He hums again, looking down at my spread lips. “You’re so pretty, omega. Such a pretty fucking pussy, dripping slick, all pink and swollen and needing. You want my fingers inside you? Or my cock?”

I want his cock, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Not sure I could handle if he climbed up my body and thrust into me, our faces close together. He’d probably try to kiss me and I’d probably let him, because my lust soaked brain has no self-preservation.

“Fingers,” I pant out, and there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, mingled with hurt. But it’s gone in an instant as he bows his head over me, almost reverently. “Whatever you need, baby girl.”

I moan as he slides one thick finger inside me, eyes focused on the motion, on the way my body gives under the intrusion of his. “So tight,” he croons. “So hot. So wet. So fucking perfect.” He rests the side of his head against my thigh as he slowly, so fucking slowly, finger fucks me. Soaking up the feel of me around him, the sight, the scent, my noises.

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