Page 99 of Knotting With A Stranger

“I told you I could take it,” I murmur, my voice hoarse but teasing.

I’m still trying to catch my breath when his arm tightens around me, and suddenly, I’m lifted off the floor. My gasp barely escapes before he’s carrying me across the room. His cock is still buried inside me, each step making me feel every inch of him as he moves. My back presses flush to his chest, and my thighs tremble as he lowers me to my knees beside the couch.

“Hands on the cushions,” he orders darkly, his voice rougher now. “Don’t move unless I tell you.”

I obey, my fingers gripping the fabric tightly. His palm drifts down my spine, slow and lingering.

“I want you bent over... head down. I want you to feel me everywhere.”

I barely have time to process before his hand flattens between my shoulder blades and presses me forward. My cheek hits the cushion, my body stretched out, rear in the air, legs spread, and completely at his mercy. The next thing I know, his palm strikes my ass—a sharp slap that makes me yelp, heat rushing through my body.

“You like that?” Archer growls, his fingers digging into my hips. “You like it when I mark you?” He grips me tighter and drags me back against him, his cock grinding deep. “You’re still dripping down your thighs, angel. Such a messy little thing... I haven’t even knotted you yet, and you’re already wrecked.”

I gasp, biting my lip, the burn of his slap blending with the pleasure surging through me. “I like it,” I pant. “Please... more.”

“You’re such a greedy thing,” he growls, slapping me again, harder this time. “That’s what I love about you... always begging for more.” He thrusts deeper, rougher now, his fingers sliding up my spine before curling in my hair. “I’m going to knot you so deep, you’ll feel me for days.” He yanks my head back enough that his mouth hovers by my ear. “Tell me you want it.”

I cry out at how deep he goes into me, how fast he thrusts.

“Yeah?” He grins against my skin. “Thought so.”

His hand slides down to my hip, holding me still as he pounds into me, fast and brutal. The force of it leaves me breathless, my moans muffled against the cushion. Pressure coils inside me, winding so tightly, I can barely stand it.

“You’re mine,” Archer snarls.

“Archer...” I choke out, my body burning, my muscles straining. “I’m…”

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me while I knot you.”

I scream out, my body bursting from the inside out, pleasure ripping through me in wild pulses as my pussy grips his cock. He groans, low and guttural, his erection swelling, thickening, pushing against my inner walls. He’s holding me still as his heat floods me.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hand smoothing down my spine in a rare moment of tenderness. “Such a good girl... all mine.”

I’m still bellowing my pleasure, my legs shaking, lust tearing through me like wildfire.

He follows in moments.

We stay joined, catching our breath, hearts gradually slowing their frantic pace. For a moment, we stay like that, both of us breathless, skin slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling against my back. Then, slowly, he eases me back up to him, and his arms wrap around me.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs in my ear, his face buried in my neck. “You can rest now.” He carries me and takes a seat on the couch, me in his lap, him buried inside me.

I let my head fall against his shoulder, my body still buzzing, my breaths slowing as his scent inhales me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel restless. I don’t feel uncertain.

I just feel… right. As if this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

23

HUNTER

The Arctic Thundercat 9000 Turbo growls beneath me, a mechanical beast straining against its own power. Its 998cc turbocharged, 4-stroke engine vibrates against my thighs as I guide it through the pristine morning snow. Behind me, James grips the handles at his sides, his body a tense presence against my back.

Each breath burns in my lungs, turning to vapor the instant it leaves my mouth. The storm has cleared, giving way to a deceptively beautiful sunrise—pink and gold light spilling across untouched white peaks, the kind of morning that feels like a lie after the break-in at my home.

I push the throttle harder, and the machine responds instantly. We sail over a drift, momentarily airborne, before landing with a muffled thump in the deep powder. The GPS mounted on the handlebars glows with our position, following the eastern property line toward the pass that leads to Travis’s side of the mountain.

The tracks we follow tell their own story—two sets of snowmobile treads cutting through virgin snow. I recognize the distinctive pattern of Travis’s Ski-Doo Renegade. The other set belongs to a heavier machine with a wider stance and a deeper tread—Deacon’s ride, no doubt. Travis wouldn’t go anywhere without his loyal attack dog.

The property line appears ahead, marked by the ancient lightning-struck pine my grandfather used as a boundary marker years ago. Half dead, half alive, the massive tree stands sentinel between two worlds—my domain and Travis’s territory. My grandfather’s attempt at Solomon’s justice, splitting his legacy between two warring descendants, hoping the division would eventually heal our rift.

---