Page 65 of Chain Me Knot

When he reaches the swell of my breasts, my nipples tighten into hard peaks, breasts growing heavy with need. Each careful pass of the cloth sends sparks of pleasure racing through my nerve endings, making me arch slightly into his touch.

When the cloth finally brushes over one aching nipple, I can't hold back the moan that escapes. The rough texture contrasts with the gentleness of his touch, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. He repeats the motion on the other side, and my head falls back against the tub. I’m lost in sensation.

“Good omega. Letting your alpha care for you. Letting him touch you where you want me to.” Soren’s deep bass rumbles in my ear and every inch of me agrees with what he said because I do want him to care for me. I do want him to touch me.

His fingers follow the path of the washcloth, tracing the same slow circles. Anticipation coils tighter in my belly with each pass, skin tingling, nerves singing. When he finally rolls each sensitive peak between thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, I nearly come undone.

“I’m going to clean the rest of you. Don’t worry,” he says quickly when my eyelids flicker open again. “I’ll ease your pain.”

His hands move to my stomach, cleaning in circles that make my muscles jump and flutter in their wake. My breathing turns ragged, shallow. Heat pools between my legs, an ache building that makes me restless.

A whimper escapes my throat, needy and desperate. My hips shift restlessly under the water and I need… I need…

Soren’s fingers skim the lips of my pussy and I nearly jump out of the water, seeking his touch. It’s never been like this before. This all-consuming need for touch. Not just any touch.

My alpha’s touch.

“Can I touch you where you need me to, Omega? Can I touch you where you burn?” he asks.

“Yessss.” I grip his wrist so he can’t go anywhere. The noise I make is somewhere between a pleading moan and a whimper. His face is smoothed into serious lines, his focus on me burning before his fingers flutter along the seam of my pussy. When his fingers finally brush over my aching center, we both groan at the contact.

Soren's fingers explore me intimately, learning every sensitive fold, every responsive spot. He teases my entrance, circling, dipping just slightly inside before withdrawing. The sensation makes me gasp, hips lifting instinctively to chase his touch.

“Please. Alpha…Soren, please,” I whimper, my voice breathy and foreign to my own ears.

“Anything for you.” He answers with a gentle thrust, one finger sliding smoothly into my heat. My inner muscles clench around the welcome intrusion, drawing him deeper. Slowly, he starts to move, establishing a rhythm that has me rocking my hips to meet each pump of his fingers.

His thumb finds my clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right pressure. Pleasure sparks through me, building from a slow burn to a raging inferno. I arch into his touch, water sloshing over the rim of the tub.

“That's it,” Soren murmurs, his voice rough with restrained desire. “Take what you need, Emma. Let me give you this.”

He increases the speed of his thrusts, crooking his fingers to stroke a spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. At the same time, he presses down more firmly on my clit, rubbing tight circles that send electricity zinging up my spine.

The dual sensations are overwhelming, all-consuming. Pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter deep inside. My thighs shake, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Soren,” I manage, my voice breaking on a moan. “I'm... I'm going to...”

“Let go,” he urges. “I've got you, Emma.”

His fingers thrust particularly deep as his thumb grinds against my clit, and the world shatters. My toes curl as ecstasy crashes over me in wave after wave of pulsing release. I'm distantly aware of crying out, of clenching around his fingers, of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

Through it all, Soren works me through the peak, drawing out my climax until I collapse back into the water, utterly spent. Aftershocks ripple through me as he gently withdraws. As I float in the hazy aftermath, Soren presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “Beautiful,” he whispers. “You're so beautiful, Emma.”

And with the echoes of my release still thrumming through my veins, with the taste of his care on my skin, I almost believe him.

As the aftershocks of my climax fade, Soren gently guides me to sit up. “Let me wash your hair, Butterfly,” he murmurs.

“Hmmm.” I’m boneless and pliant from the force of my release. I wrap my arms around my bent knees and tip my head back. He starts to wet my hair with warm water from the bath’s shower head. His fingers work shampoo through my hair with the same care he's shown my body, massaging my scalp, working out tangles with patient gentleness.

It should be relaxing. And it is. My muscles are loose, my mind quiet, but as he rinses the suds away another sensation starts to build.

Heat flickers, more raw than the earlier slow build. A spark in my belly grows. Heat simmers in my veins and a restless ache has me shifting in the cooling bathwater. My sweet honeysuckle grows musky with need that’s demanding and urgent.

By the time he's washed the conditioner from my hair, arousal is a living thing inside me. Clawing at my insides. Demanding to be sated. My breath comes faster, skin prickling. The ache between my thighs grows unbearable.

Soren's hands still when he works out the last knot. “Emma? What's wrong?”

“I’m... hot. Empty. Like I need...” I can't finish, can't put words to this all-consuming want. I squirm against the insistent throb of my core.

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