Page 101 of Chain Me Knot

Something in his expression shifts. Darkens. His pupils swallow the warm brown of his irises entirely as his grip tightens. “You're sure?”

A whine slips from me. I bare my throat in the ultimate act of trust for an omega. “Make me yours. Please, Alpha.”

The growl that tears from Soren's chest is pure alpha. His scent rises, potent, hot, mine.

His hands slide down, fingers hooking into the waistband of my leggings, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of my hips as he peels both leggings and underwear down and off my body. The cool air kisses my exposed flesh, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his touch when his fingertips finally—finally—brush through the dampness there.

“Soren—” My voice fractures, my back arching off the counter as his fingers glide through my slick, gathering the evidence of my need. “Please—”

His fingers paint wet heat across my trembling skin before two thick digits sink into me with one smooth, relentless thrust. The stretch is immediate—perfect—the rough pads of his fingertips pressing against that sweet spot inside that makes my vision blur.

“Oh gods!” I choke out, my head tilting back as he curls those talented fingers.

Soren's mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing my moans as his thumb finds my clit, circling with just enough pressure to make my thighs clamp around his wrist.

“Breathe,” he orders against my lips, his breath ragged. Hot puffs of air mingle with mine as his thrusts turn punishing. He drags his fingers out of me before plunging back inside me again. He flicks my clit with his thumb and snags my bottom lip between his teeth. My hips roll desperately against his hand.

It's too much.

Not enough.

“I can't…Alpha…Soren…” The warning spills from me half-formed, but he increases the pace just as my body locks around him. My climax destroys me without mercy, my back arching off the counter as my inner walls flutter around his fingers, slick gushing over his knuckles. He withdraws from me, glistening fingers hovering between us as he studies my wrecked expression.

“That's just the first,” he murmurs, and before I can process the threat—the promise—he's sinking to his knees. His long fingers wrap around my thighs, drawing my legs over his shoulders and he positions me on the edge of the bench and brings my soakingcenter to his face.

His breath scorches my still-quivering flesh. “Look at you, Omega,” he growls, nosing through my folds, inhaling deeply. “Dripping for me. Fuck.”

The first lick is a revelation—broad and flat, dragging through my soaked slit from entrance to clit in one filthy stroke. My hips jerk, but his free hand clamps down on my stomach, holding me still as he licks into me like a man starved, groaning.

He devours me.

His tongue flicks at my swollen clit before sucking it hard between his lips, his stubble scratching deliciously at my inner thighs. Every nerve ending ignites, pleasure coiling low in my belly again—too soon, too intense—but he doesn't relent. Not when my legs tremble. Not when my screams echo off the tile.

“Soren!” His name shatters from my lips a second time, my orgasm crashing through me as he drinks down every drop of my slick as though it’s his favorite smoothie.

“You taste fucking delicious, Butterfly,” Soren growls, his lips and chin glistening. He drags his thumb along my clit one last time, making my thighs tremble, then rises to his feet, his cock thick and flushed between us, his hips pressing my legs wider. “Please, Omega. May I?”

He’s asking me?

I can barely think, let alone form words. My limbs are liquid, my skin oversensitive from twice falling apart under his touch. Raw, primal need burns in my veins. I nod, breathless, my fingers curling into the counter’s edge for balance as a hard breath punches from his lungs.

He doesn’t make me wait.

One hand grips my thigh, the other guiding himself to my dripping entrance. Then he impales me on his cock with one brutal thrust made so easy with the amount of slick pouring from me.

The stretch is blissful agony, his thickness filling me so friggingperfectly, and I cry out as he buries himself inside meright where he belongs.

“Gods, Emma,” he grits out, his forehead pressing to mine. “Take me. All of me.”

My arms start to shake while I try to hold my position on the countertop. His hands slide under my thighs, and suddenly I’m airborne. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, my arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, my body still speared on his cock as he carries me to the couch in the living area.

The shift in angle makes him hit deeper, and I moan into his neck, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I suck in his potent scent. He drops onto the cushions, settling me astride him, his grip firm on my hips. “Good?” he murmurs, though his voice is rough with barely leashed hunger.

I whimper. It’s soooo good, but I still need more.

His lips crash into mine, desperate and possessive. His tongue sweeps into my mouth like he needs to taste every inch of me. His free hand slips beneath my shirt, palming my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it pebbles against his palm. His other unrelenting hand presses firm against my clit, keeping up a steady rhythm that threatens to shatter me all over again.

The tension builds, coiling tighter, hotter. Each thrust of his cock stokes the fire burning low in my belly. His knot swells at the base, teasing my entrance with every rock of his hips.

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