Page 84 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

Right now, it’s Jax above me, his powerful body covering mine as he moves inside me with slow, deep thrusts.

The weight of him pins me to reality, his cedar scent cutting through the fever-haze momentarily. My body responds to myalpha violently—another gush of slick, my back arching without conscious command, a whimper tearing from my throat that doesn’t even sound human to my own ears.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through my chest. “You’re taking me so well.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. There’s something commanding in them, something that expects obedience while promising care.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, one large hand cradling my face, making me look at him. “Tell me, baby girl.”

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from hours of moaning, crying out, begging. “So good, Alpha.”

He rewards me with a particularly deep thrust that has me gasping. “Thaaat’s it,” he praises. “Such a good, sweet girl for us.”

The praise washes over me, almost as potent as the physical pleasure. I arch into him, seeking more, seeking the peak I can feel building just out of reach. It’s maddening—this constant chase for relief that never fully comes. Each orgasm merely blunts the edge for precious seconds before the heat surges back stronger, hungrier, more demanding. My muscles ache from tensing, from writhing, from desperately seeking more, more, MORE.

Finn is beside us, his fingers combing through my sweat-damp hair, his eyes soft with concern and desire. “She’s close,” he tells Jax. “Look at her.”

Jax’s pace increases slightly, his thrusts becoming more targeted. “Are you going to come for me, little one? Show me how good you can be.”

The command in his voice, coupled with the exquisite pressure of him inside me, sends me over the edge. I come with a cry, my body clenching around him as pleasure spirals outward from my core.

But even as the climax subsides, I know it’s not enough. The heat recedes only marginally, the ache inside me dulling for mere seconds before rebuilding stronger than before.

I whimper, tears of frustration springing to my eyes. “More,” I plead. “Please, I need more.”

Jax looks down at me, understanding in his gaze. He withdraws carefully, leaving me empty and aching, but his hand strokes soothingly down my side.

“I know what you need,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Stone?”

I turn my head to see Stone approaching from where he’s been lying at the edge of the nest with Ren. Both are visibly aroused, their eyes dark with need as they watch us.

Something instinctive stirs in me at the sight of them—a recognition deep in my bones. This is what I need. This completion. This pack.

Stone moves into the space Jax has vacated, his larger frame blocking out the light as he positions himself between my spread thighs. His pine and musk fills my senses, distinct yet harmonizing with the others in the room.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is softer than usual, and it sends a delicious shiver through me. His hands stroke up my thighs with surprising gentleness. “Jax wore you out a bit, didn’t he?”

I shake my head, unable to form words to express the desperate need still burning through me. Instead, I reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss that I hope conveys everything I can’t say.

He responds immediately, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that matches my own. His tongue sweeps inside, tasting, exploring, as his body settles over mine.

When he pulls back, his pupils are blown wide with desire. “Tell me what you need, Hailey.”

“You,” I manage to gasp. “Inside me. Please, Stone.”

He nods, positioning himself at my entrance. “I’ve got you,” he promises, then begins to press forward.

The stretch is immediate and shocking. Despite how impossibly wet I am, despite how my body begs to be filled, there’s resistance—a burning stretch that walks the knife-edge between pleasure and pain. My inner walls flutter wildly around his invasion, trying to pull him deeper while simultaneously struggling with his size. A feral sound rips from my throat—not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but something primal and desperate.

“Breathe,” he instructs, his voice strained but steady. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

I try, focusing on the sensation of his hands on my hips, the weight of him above me, the scent of all four of them surrounding me. Slowly, my body yields, accepting him inch by inch until he’s fully seated within me.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groans, his forehead resting against mine as he gives me time to adjust. “So tight, so perfect.”

The fullness is overwhelming, bordering on too much, yet somehow still not enough. I experimentally shift my hips, drawing a sharp hiss from Stone.

“Easy,” he warns, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Let me take care of you.”

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