Page 50 of Knot My Luck

She’s still trembling, breathless, lips wet from the lollipop, eyes heavy with need as she blinks down at me as I drop to my knees once more. The flush on her cheeks deepens, her thighs twitching where they rest over my shoulders, still spread wide on the counter. She looks wrecked – but it’s not enough. Not for her. Not for me.

“Please,” she whimpers, voice rough from pleasure, from desperation. “Please, I need it.”

I know exactly what she’s asking for. My knot. The instinctual need to be stretched, to be claimed, to be filled until there’s no space left inside her. It’s written in every part of her body – the way she grips at my shoulders, the way she squirms closer, trying to press against me, the way her scent thickens, wrapping around me like a drug.

But I won’t give it to her. Not yet. Not until she’s begging in the way I want.

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” I insist, dragging my fingers over the slick heat between her thighs, spreading her open, feeling how soaked she is from just my mouth alone. “You’re not ready for my knot.”

She lets out a broken sound, half a sob, half a growl of frustration. “Iam,” she protests, trying to roll her hips against my hand. “I can take it. I need it. Please.”

I hum, slipping a single finger inside her, curling it just right to make her shudder. “I’ll give you something else instead,” I promise.

She moans as I add another finger, pushing deep, feeling how tight and hot she is around me. I fuck her with them slowly, teasingly, letting her feel every inch, every stretch. She rocks against my hand, chasing more, chasing that feeling of fullness she’s so desperate for.

“More,” she gasps, her head tilting back against the mirror, her breath fogging the glass. “More, please.”

I chuckle darkly. “Greedy little thing,” I declare, slipping in a third.

She cries out, her body arching off the counter, and I have to hold her still with my other hand on her thigh. Her slick coats my fingers, dripping down, soaking her skin, making it so easy to slide deeper, to give her exactly what she’s begging for – just not in the way she wants.

I curl my fingers inside her, pressing against that perfect spot, and she jerks, moaning around the lollipop still between her lips. “That’s it, baby,” I croon, watching her unravel. “Come for me again.”

She shatters with a strangled cry, her whole body locking up before the tension snaps. Her release gushes over my hand, soaking my wrist, dripping onto the counter. My cock throbs at the sight of it, at the way she’s still begging even as she falls apart.

“Knot,” she sobs, still trembling, her hands fisting in my shirt. “Please, I need it…I need you to?—”

“Shhh,” I hush her gently, withdrawing my fingers only to press back in, slower this time, deeper.

I don’t stop.

She gasps as I slide another in, stretching her further, working her open inch by inch, watching the way her body struggles to take it, watching the way her lips part around the lollipop, drool glistening on her chin as she pants.

“See?” I press, my voice thick with satisfaction. “You want to be stretched, filled? Youwillbe. But like this.”

I ease my whole hand inside her, slowly, carefully, watching her every reaction, making sure she stays relaxed. She trembles, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps, her walls fluttering as she struggles to take it.

“That’s it, baby,” I soothe, pressing kisses along her inner thigh as she stretches around me. “This is as close to a knot as you’re getting from me tonight.”

She whimpers, her legs shaking, her body caught between pleasure and overwhelm, and I can feel her starting to clench again, like she’s going to come all over my fist, just from the stretch, just from the feeling of being filled so completely.

I smirk. “Go on,” I insist, my voice dark and coaxing. “Come for me again.”

Her walls clench around me, and then she shatters. A sobbed, wrecked moan spills from her lips as she comes, her body pulsing around my fist, her release soaking me, running down my wrist, my forearm. She trembles, shuddering, her legs twitching in my grasp as pleasure crashes through her in violent waves.

I don’t move, just let her ride it out, let her feel every stretch, every impossible inch of fullness, her body spasming in the aftermath of her release. She’s still gasping, her eyes glazed and unfocused, her body trembling under the weight of what she’s just experienced.

Slowly, I pull my hand from her, keeping her eyes locked on mine as I move, my gaze dark with satisfaction. She’s still panting, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths, and I take a moment to savour the look on her face – the way she’s unraveling, the way she’s so desperate for more.

Without breaking our gaze, I lift my hand to my mouth, dragging my tongue slowly over my fingers, tasting her slick and her cum, her sweetness, licking every drop from my hand and wrist, my forearm. The sound of my tongue against my skin is wet and deliberate, echoing in the tense air between us.

Her breath hitches at the sight, her eyes widening, her mouth parting as a desperate whimper escapes her. She reaches for me, her fingers grabbing at my shoulders, greedily pulling me toward her, needing me in a way that makes my pulse race. She tugs me into a searing kiss, her tongue meeting mine in a messy, desperate clash, the taste of herself still lingering on both our lips.

I groan into the kiss, pulling her closer, but then there’s a sharp, unexpected knock at the door.

I pull back from her, with an effort, wrenching myself away from the intoxicating warmth of her lips, my body aching with need.

“Stay here,” I command, brushing her hair back from her face, though I can see the hunger still clouding her eyes. I straighten, my jaw clenched with restraint, and step toward the door, opening it to reveal my twin, standing in the hallway.

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