Page 6 of Knot So Fast
We're both groaning in defeat, the sound echoing off the walls of his penthouse bedroom. We know how crazy this relationship is, how toxic and addictive and completely unsustainable. But it's only getting worse because we both can't stop coming back to each other, even though we're both collateral damage waiting to collide and explode in spectacular fashion.
"Fuck," he breathes, his accent thicker now, his hands flexing beneath my grip as he fights the urge to take control. "You feel so goddamn perfect, sugar. Like you were made for my cock."
The possession in his voice makes heat pool low in my belly, but I refuse to let him see how much his words affect me. Instead, I start to move, lifting myself up until just the tip of him remains inside me before slamming back down. The sound that rips from his throat is pure animal satisfaction.
"Bounce like the sexy bitch you are," he groans, his eyes rolling back as I establish a rhythm that has us both teetering on the edge of sanity.
I laugh, breathless and wild, my hair falling around us like a curtain. "Keep ordering me around and you won't get shit." But I'm already moving faster because I need the relief just as badly as he does. Need the way he fills me completely, the way his cock hits that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
My thighs burn with the effort, muscles straining as I ride him harder, faster, chasing that perfect high that only he can give me. His hands break free from my grip—when did I let go?—and settle on my hips, guiding my movements but letting me stay in control. It's a delicate balance we've perfected over months of this madness.
The slick sound of our bodies connecting fills the room, punctuated by ragged breathing and half-formed curses in multiple languages. He's always been multilingual when he's close to coming, switching between English and Cortian and sometimes languages I don't even recognize.
"That's it, baby," he murmurs, his thumbs tracing circles on my hip bones. "Take what you need. Use me."
The encouragement in his voice, the way he's looking at me like I'm a goddess worth worshipping, breaks something loose in my chest. I lean forward, changing the angle, and we both cry out as he hits deeper, harder, exactly where I need him.
My orgasm builds like a wildfire, starting as warmth in my belly and spreading outward until every nerve ending is singing. I can feel my walls fluttering around him, can see the way his jaw clenches as he fights to hold back.
"Come with me," I gasp, my rhythm becoming erratic as pleasure threatens to drown me. "I can feel you're close. Let go."
"Only if you come first," he growls, one hand sliding up to palm my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple in a way that makes me arch into his touch. "I want to feel you fall apart on my cock."
The command in his voice, combined with the perfect pressure of his thumb and the relentless stretch of his cock inside me, sends me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me like a tsunami, stealing my breath and making my vision go white around the edges.
I clench around him helplessly, my body milking his cock as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me. He groans my name like a prayer, his hips bucking up into me as he chases his own release.
He follows seconds later, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me with hot spurts of cum. His grip on my hips tightens almost painfully as he forces me down harder, deeper, like he wants to bury himself so far inside me that we'll never be separate again.
"Fuck, yes," he groans, his voice breaking on the words. "Take it all, sugar. Every fucking drop."
I can feel his knot beginning to swell, that telltale expansion that would lock us together for the next hour if I let it happen. But I can't. Won't. The panic rises swift and sharp, cutting through the post-orgasmic haze like a blade.
"No," I whisper, placing my hands on his chest in warning. "You know the rules."
He grunts in disapproval, his Alpha instincts clearly at war with his rational mind. I can see the struggle in his eyes—the desire to claim me completely warring with his respect for my boundaries. It's one of the things that makes this so complicated, the way he can be utterly dominant while still giving me control when it matters.
Before his knot can fully inflate, he lifts me off his cock with a reluctant groan. I can see how much it costs him, the wayhis hands shake slightly as he sets me beside him on the bed. His cock is still hard, still leaking, his knot partially swollen and angry red.
Without giving him time to object or recover, I grab his knot forcefully, knowing if I don't take control now he won't let me do what I want to do. His sharp intake of breath tells me he wasn't expecting it, and the moan that follows tells me exactly how much he likes it.
"Auren," he warns, but there's no real heat in it. Just desperate arousal and the kind of vulnerability that he only shows me in moments like this.
I massage his knot with firm strokes, watching the way his eyes flutter closed and his mouth falls open. He's beautiful like this—wrecked and needy and completely at my mercy. It's a power trip that goes straight to my core, making fresh slick drip down my thighs.
Before he can process what I'm doing, I slip out of his grasp and take his cock into my mouth in one smooth motion. The taste of us combined hits my tongue—salt and sex and something uniquelyhimthat makes me moan around his length.
"Fuck!" The curse explodes from his lips as I work him with my mouth, my tongue swirling around his sensitive head before taking him deeper. "Auren, baby, you're going to kill me."
I can feel him trying to hold back, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but I'm relentless. I use my hand to continue massaging his knot while my mouth works his shaft, creating a dual sensation that has him babbling in Cortian.
The foreign words spill from his lips in a stream of consciousness—praise and pleas and what I assume are very creative curses based on the way his hips buck involuntarily. I don't understand most of it, but I don't need to. The tone tells me everything I need to know.
His hands tangle in my hair, not to control but to anchor himself as I work him closer to the edge. I can taste more precum leaking from his tip, feel the way his thighs tremble with the effort of staying still.
"Please," he gasps, switching back to English. "I'm so close, sugar. Your mouth is so fucking perfect."
I hum around his cock, the vibration making him curse again, and increase my pace. My jaw aches from taking him so deep, but the sounds he's making—broken and desperate and completely undone—make it worth it.
