Page 50 of Reckless: Corruption

I cut him off by crooking my fingers, finding that spot inside him that makes his back bow. “What was that?”

“Please!” The word breaks on a sob as I continue to work that spot. “Alpha, I need you inside me. Need your knot. Need?—”

His words dissolve into incoherent moans as I add a third finger, stretching him wider. Slick coats my hand, dripping down my wrist as he fucks himself back onto my fingers.

“Look at you,” I praise, my voice rough with need. “So desperate for it. For me. For this.” I press deeper, making him cry out. “Tell me what you need, omega. Be specific.”

“Your cock,” he manages, words slurring with heat-need. “Your knot. Need you to fill me up, breed me full.”

The crude words from my usually artistic omega send a surge of primal satisfaction through me. I withdraw my fingers, leaving him empty and wanting.

“Alpha?” Confusion and need color his voice as he looks back at me.

“Turn over,” I command. “Want to see your face when I claim you.”

He complies immediately, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs wide. The sight of him—flushed and desperate, cock hard against his stomach, hole pink and glistening with slick—nearly breaks my control.

I position myself between his thighs, the head of my cock nudging against his entrance. “Mine,” I growl, pushing in just enough to feel him stretch around me.

His eyes roll back, lips parting on a silent moan as I begin to sink into him. The tight, wet heat of him is paradise, perfect and claiming. I have to grit my teeth against the urge to slam home, to take and possess without mercy.

“Yes,” he breathes, hands clutching at my shoulders. “Yours. Only yours, Alpha.”

The trust in his voice steadies me, allowing me to maintain control as I push deeper, inch by deliberate inch. When I’m fully seated, my growing knot pressing against his rim, we both groan at the perfect connection.

“So full,” he whispers, eyes glazed with pleasure and heat-haze. “So good.”

I roll my hips experimentally, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, I pull back slowly before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm designed to drive us both mad.

“That’s it,” I encourage as he meets each thrust. “Take what you need. Show me how much you want it.”

His legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper as his nails score lines down my back. The slight pain only heightens my pleasure, making my knot swell faster.

“Mine,” I growl again, leaning down to capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. “My omega. My mate.”

“Yours,” he agrees, voice breaking as I angle to hit that spot inside him. “Always yours.”

I reach between us to wrap my hand around his neglected cock, stroking in time with my thrusts. The dual stimulation has him arching off the bed, a stream of desperate pleas falling from his lips.

“That’s it,” I praise, feeling my knot catch on his rim with each thrust. “Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

He comes with a broken cry of my name, cock pulsing in my grip as his release paints his stomach and chest. His inner walls clench rhythmically around me, making my knot swell to its full size.

But I don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not when his heat scent spikes again, his body already preparing for more.

“Perfect,” I growl, stroking him through the aftershocks. “But we’re just getting started.”

His spent cock twitches in my hand, already hardening again—the blessing and curse of an omega. His eyes widen as I continue thrusting, my knot catching more with each movement.

“Alpha,” he gasps, oversensitive but still wanting. “Too much?—”

“You can take it,” I assure him, knowing his limits better than he does in this state. “Going to make you come on my knot again. And again.”

A whimper escapes him, part pleasure and part surrender. His body yields to mine completely as I adjust my angle, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.

“There it is,” I murmur as his eyes roll back. “Feel that? Feel how perfect we fit together?”

He nods, beyond words now. His fingers clutch at the sheets, at my shoulders, at anything to anchor himself against the onslaught of sensation.

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