Page 62 of Penny for Your Saints

“Please, Frank!” I gasp—my muscles begging to be stretched to their limit by his knot. Though he did fuck me the night before—he reserved his knot for Quentin, leaving me to lock Q for my own satisfaction along with Seb’s gamma knot.

Somewhere in the back of my mind—through the haze of pheromones and dopamine I can’t help but think this has been intentional. Upon further inspection of my feelings on the matter? I don’t really care why—in this moment—all I care about is taking his knot, taking it now.

“Please what?” he grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks up at me.

“I need your knot,” I whimper desperately.

“I told you, you’d beg, Sweetheart—so you’d better beg,” he challenges, his eyes locked on mine as he returns to the work of sucking and tonguing my clit; adding his ring finger to the index and middle fingers curled inside of me.

“Please Frank,” my voice is high, thready—barely recognizable to myself as his relentless attention threatens to make me shake apart in another mighty climax.

“You only get what you want if you ask,” he taunts me—his fingers strumming that inside place that sends me gushing across Frank’s chest as he draws his fingers from inside me and sucks my glittering honey from them.

“I need you, I need your knot—I need you deep and hard,” I wail uncontrollably, adding with agonized clarity, “I’m begging for you to fill me up,Daddy.”

Though the cheeky moniker had been a dig—a reference to that very night in the interrogation room, it seems to be the final straw that breaks in the face of Frank’s otherwise unyielding resolve.

He practically tosses my legs off of his shoulders and all but jumps to his feet—leaving me to swing loose until my toes gain purchase on the ground once more.

Frank kicks out of the sweatpants and wipes his mouth and beard on the balled up mass of gray cotton before pitching it away—his imposing length, swollen scarlet knot huge and pulsing at its base standing straight up as he closes in on me again—his hands already moving to help my legs up and around his hips to help reduce the tension of my suspension.

There’s only half a breath of him using his fingers to side his rock hard cockhead up my slick pussy lips—gathering my dewy honey before he plunges inside me up to the knot.

“Yes, there—” I hiccup as he just grazes my cervix, his hands crawling around my lower back to grip the pale curve of my ass, his forehead pressed against mine as he pistons his hips up and into me with increasing verve.

“That’s a good girl,” Frank growls, reaching between our bodies to stroke my tremulous clit with his thumb as he slams into me—his knot straining at my slick petals, striving for entrance as he steadily bottoms out each deep stroke inside me. “But I am going to need one more of those forced O’s before I let you cum on this knot,” He instructs dutifully, his deep purling hip thrusts in time with the speedy circular rubbing of my clit sending me careening into another spraying ejaculation—my eyes rolling back into my head as Frank pulls out and drops to his knees—lapping eagerly at my honeyed fountain as I screammy pleasure; my body swinging wildly as I hang from my leather cuffs—Frank’s hands doing their best to keep a grip on the backs of my thighs as my legs seize uncontrollably.

I’m worried I’m on the precipice of blacking out from the exhaustion and the frantic need for a knot when suddenly Frank is back on his feet, his cock pushing inside me with that smooth, tight-gripped-glide—like our bodies just know how best to fit together.

“Eyes on me,” he huffs, his breath ragged—his face still sparkling with little droplets of my own glistening cum.

I do my best to focus on him through the fog of lust, my own words lost to me for now—only needy mewling and moaning within my current mastery.

“Now I’m going to really need you to cum for me, Agent Penny,” he growls out, hands moving from the backs of my knees toward the rounds of my calves as he sheaths himself inside me up to the knot ever so slowly—my suspended weight shifting as he steadies us against the door.

My head bobs in a chain of uneven nods to show I understand, and then his hands grip my ankles and cautiously I lift my own ankles up toward my wrists—testing the limits of my flexibility. He seems pleased when he’s pinned me open in this straddle position—my cries increasing with volume and verve as his knot nudges more insistently at the gate of my tightness.

The room seems almost to spin as my lower back thumps against the wooden door as Frank maintains his unforgiving pace—I can feel my eyes rolling back, forcing closed—but Frank’s bark brings me back to the moment,

“Eyes up, Sweetheart—I want to see the second you completely lose control.”

I force myself to look at him—lifting my chin, his face only a breath away from mine.

“Attagirl,” he growls—the wooden door shaking loudly on its hinges as he fucks me mercilessly.

The strain of the girth of his knot against me eases for a fraction of a second—and my body just knows he’s about to finally drive his way inside.

“Francis!” I gasp in anticipation—angling my mouth upward to catch his in a passionate kiss—our tongues twining together as he propels himself with a final thrust, his knot drawn inside me with a sudden powerful wet sucking noise as we moan into each other’s mouths, my legs convulsing in his hands as Frank pours his hot seed inside me for the first time.

This dual heat has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

The first day seemed to dilate—a stretch of less than 24 hours felt like weeks, maybe even months; the passage of time slowed and colored golden by my omega body chemistry.

When Louise and I had fucked in the beach city safe house, it had been under the context of using one another for much needed relief even before we found ourselves in the throes of heat desperation. Even still, the need had been great—the satisfaction of our shared release, satisfying in a way I hadn’t previously thought was possible.

I had been afraid to admit it then, that there was something decidedly different about the nature of my own pleasure where Louise Penny is concerned; a depth and intensity I’ve never known, but I was forced to confront that very notion when the others left us at the hunting lodge that fateful morning.

The urge to nest came upon me, sudden and strong—the winter sunlight seeming too bright through the giant magnifyingglass of the A-frame cabin’s wall of mismatching windows at odds with my need to be encased by scent and softness.

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