Page 30 of Break Me Knot

Her pleasure.

Her comfort.

Her trust.

I work her through the waves of her climax, keeping my touch gentle as she shakes and gasps. “Beautiful,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her hip as she comes down. “Absolutely beautiful.”

One small orgasm is a start, but her body craves so much more. This is only the start. She’s still so tense despite her muscles quivering. She'll wanta steady stream of pleasure, a constant push toward ecstasy to ease the ache of her heat. I can’t wait to experience every second of it.

“Can I taste you, omega?” I ask, my breath ghosting over her damp core. The scent of her arousal is thick here, intoxicating. “Please, let me taste you properly.”

I’m asking nicely but I’m also begging at the same time.

She hesitates. Her body trembles with the conflict, but another wave of heat makes her shudder, a whimper escaping her throat, and finally, finally, she nods. “Okay. Please Alpha. I need…”

“Shh, Baby Girl. I’ll give you everything.” My chest might burst with joy, with gratitude for this trust because she asked me.

I press reverent kisses to her hips, to the soft skin of her belly, as I carefully work the shorts down her legs, baring her to our gaze but as I see her for the first time, the true extent of her suffering becomes heartbreakingly clear. Her ribs protrude sharply beneath pale skin, each one countable. Her hip bones jut out like knife blades, the hollow of her belly far too deep. She's small. Tiny, but this isn't natural slenderness; it's the result of long-term deprivation, of her body consuming itself to survive.

And the scars... I almost break as I trace my lips across her skin, over the raised lines, the rough patches, the places where she should be soft but isn't. Some are old, faded to silver, a map of past pain, but others are fresher, angrier, telling a story of more recent suffering. A particularly vicious mark curves around her hip, disappearing behind her back, and my heart clenches at the thought of what may have caused it.

I meet Adrian's gaze over the expanse of her too-thin body, seeing my horror and rage reflected in his eyes. Someone did this to her. Someone starved her, hurt her, left these marks on her skin and her soul. The urge to hunt them down, to make them pay, is overwhelming.

She whimpers, drawing our attention back to the present. Now isn't the time for vengeance. Now is the time to show her that touch doesn't have to bring pain, that alphas don't have to be a source of fear.

I swallow my fury, my grief, and return to my tender worship of her body. Each kiss is an apology, each gentle caress a promise.

Never again! She'llneversuffer like this again.

Not while she's ours. And she’ll be ours forever, even if she doesn’t understand it yet. Even if she never chooses us.

I take my time kissing up her too thin thighs, savoring the way she trembles at each touch. Her skin is silk beneath my lips, heated and damp with sweat. The first swipe of my tongue through her folds makes us both moan. Her taste explodes across my senses, musky and sweet. It's ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. I grip her hips to keep from simply devouring her, from losing myself in her flavor.

She cries out above me as I lave her gently, exploring her folds. Her slick coats my tongue, my lips, my chin. I've never tasted anything so perfect, so right. It's like coming home to something I never knew I missed.

My alpha side is satisfied I’ve brought her this pleasure and eased her pain. Each careful lap of my tongue draws whimpers from her throat, new shivers across her skin. Her hands find my hair, tentative at first, then gripping tighter as I focus on her clit. I alternate between broad strokes and delicate flicks, learning what makes her moan, what makes her hips jerk against my mouth.

The rest of the world fades away until there's nothing but her taste, her scent, the tiny sounds of her pleasure. Adrian's murmured praise and encouragement blend with her whimpers and moans, creating a symphony of bliss.

Adrian’s large hands cup and knead the soft flesh of her breasts above me, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in a way that makes her gasp. The combination of sensations—my mouth on her core, his hands on her breasts—has her writhing between us, lost in a haze of pleasure.

I ease a finger inside her, marveling at her tightness, her heat. She's so wet, so ready, her body grasping at my digit as if trying to draw me deeper. I pump slowly, gently, letting her adjust to the intrusion while I continue to lap at her clit.

My own need is a distant thing, unimportant compared to her pleasure. My knot throbs, my balls drawing up tight against my body, but I ignore the discomfort. She tenses beneath me, her inner walls fluttering around my finger.She's close, so close. Her scent shifts, the sweetness of impending climax mixing with the spice of her heat. I draw her clit into my mouth and suck, applying the gentlest pressure with my teeth. At the same moment, Adrian closes his lips around one tight nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

She shatters with a cry, her back arching off the blankets as ecstasy crashes through her. Her fingers tighten in my hair, but I don't stop lapping my tongue where she needs it to prolong her pleasure. I work her through the waves of her orgasm, easing the pressure as she starts to come down. She's gasping, shaking, overwhelmed in the best way. Adrian gentles his touch on her breasts, soothing rather than arousing.

“That's it, Little One,” he murmurs against her skin. “You’re a good girl, letting us help you.”

As she comes back from her high, tension creeps back into her limbs. Her body relaxes into our embrace, but she still hesitates. She's still holding back, keeping a part of herself locked away.

I want to tear down those walls, to prove with every touch and kiss and murmured praise that she's safe now, cherished. The same concern is reflected in Adrian’s eyes. Our omega is in her nest with her alphas, but she should be liquid in our arms.

Suddenly she cries out as her abdomen ripples with another breath-stealing cramp even though she’s just reached her peak. The sound is laced with pain and fear, a harsh reminder that her heat is far from over despite the temporary respite of orgasm. Dr. Maverick wasn’t wrong.

This is what years of taking suppressants looks like. The very designation I want to protect is now a victim. Adrian and I soothe her again, trying our best to take away the pain and ingrained mistrust. I’ve never felt more out of my depth, even when running a billion-dollar business, than trying to comfort our traumatized omega.

At Pinnacle, I'm in control. I know the moves, the strategies, the next steps, but here, in this makeshift nest with a hurting, mistrustful omega… I'm lost.

---