Page 146 of Citius

The anticipation of being speared by his thick cock sent a shudder of pure need through me, and I involuntarily tensed until I felt the first nudge at my entrance.

“Ready?” he asked, voice vibrating with restrained passion.

I nodded, feeling breathless but not anxious.

Cal wanted me, I knew that for sure, but more importantly, he wanted me to feel good. Had proven that to me over and over.

Even the fingers teasing my clit as his cock eased inside me contained a measure of reassurance, always present, always mindful, never at the mercy of his alpha.

Chivalrous to a fault, even as he spread my legs wider still and his hands moved to grip my waist—as he sank inside me, inch by throbbing inch.

It had been too long. I wasn’t used to having sex, and I’d forgotten about the sting of stretching to accommodate the girth of an alpha.

But this wasn’t any alpha. This was Cal, I reminded myself.

As his tentative thrusts turned the painful pinch of intrusion into decadent friction, I gasped and mewled against his sweat-slicked skin.

“Youfeel…fucking amazing.” He pulled back, transfixed by the movements of my breasts and hips as he made slow work of me, studying the slightest twitches and inhalations with rapt interest. “Sowetfor me, Morgan. So ready. Needy. Desperate. Aren’t you?”

The truth was undeniable. Rather than attempting a half-hearted evasion, even in the name of flirtatious banter, I responded with honest action.

Cal wasn’t quite ready for me to snake my legs around the backs of his thighs, urging him deeper, coaxing his tense glutes forward as I shifted beneath him. He bottomed out, the first swelling of his knot brushing against my clit.

We cried out in unison.

“Fuck—fuck.” He fell forward, resting his weight on one elbow, sweaty forehead plastered against his forearm, shaking as he fought the urge to rut into me. “Y-you almost… I almost…”

I angled my head to nibble on his earlobe. “Why don’t you?”

“God damn it, woman—are you trying to make me snap?” Cal’s hips rolled forward, smooth and deep, free hand snaking down to grip my ass as he worked us into a steady rhythm.

A subtle shift of my hips found the perfect angle to make me see stars.

“O-oh!” My mouth dropped open, pants escalating into breathy moans as I met him thrust for thrust.

Mutual desire was a thrilling, belated discovery. Overwhelming at times but soul-satisfying to a degree I had never thought was possible, even before my accident.

I may have resisted my attraction to Cal for many good reasons, but I never took him for granted. Not his intellect or his professional experience—nor his interest in me.

And I knew, long before he pulled me into his lap after the Redmond’s housewarming party, that while our physical connection may never be effortless because of my condition, it was relatively straightforward.

This wasn’t lust. It was thoughtful and deliberate adoration. Quintessential Cal Carling.

He sat back on his heels, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist as he began a series of short, intense thrusts, driving me straight up to the edge, toes curled, chest tight—there, almost there—only to abruptly withdraw, leaving only the first torturous inch of his cock inside.

I fisted the comforter, shooting needy daggers up at him, only to find Cal watching me with a satisfied grin as he applied a fresh coating of lube to the base of his erection, including the increasingly prevalent ring of muscle that would soon become a full-blown knot.

“I-inside me,” I meant to ask, but it came out as a demand. “I want all of it, all of you—Cal, Iwantit.”

His knot—a dusky red temptation—grew firmer beneath his grip. A color that would pain me in any other situation except this—when it could only inspire an unbearable ache in the depths of my core.

Cal gripped me behind each knee, holding my legs still as he eased forward, watching my hungry gaze as I stared at his approaching knot, goosebumps breaking out across my bare skin, shaking with anticipation, unable to keep from moaning.

He took great pleasure in edging me, grinding his knot against my clit between shallow thrusts that never reached the right spot, shifting his hips back every time I tried to pull him deeper. He waited until my head began to thrash, hair and back damp with sweat, a quivering bundle of nerves on the verge of detonation.

Only then did he reward me with a full, vigorous thrust, driving hisknot as deep inside me as possible. It inflated rapidly, exerting mind-numbing pressure against my walls, locking us together.

“Oh, fuck, Morgan—fuck, that’s tight.”

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