Page 80 of Knot Gonna Lie
Waves crashed into hurricane force, wild and urgent. I needed her to need me back.
I pulled back just enough to yank at my shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons. One popped free, skittering across the floor, and Elara giggled, the sound light and teasing. But her eyes—heat simmered there, raking over my chest as I shrugged the fabric off, exposing skin marked by old scars from clan runs.
She liked what she saw; that look said it all, and it fueled me.
My hands went to her shirt next, lifting it slowly, my mouth never far from her skin. I kissed the hollow of her throat as the fabric slipped over her head, tossing it aside. Her bra followed, unclasped with steadier fingers now, and I paused, drinking her in. Perfect curves, skin flushed under my gaze. I leaned in, nose brushing her collarbone, inhaling again—her scent thickened, needy, drowning me in its siren call.
I eased her back onto the bed, my body covering hers, the weight of my doubt pressing harder than my chest against her skin. Lips found her breast, and I sucked gently at first, tongue circling her nipple until it pebbled under my touch. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, nails biting just enough to ground me, but it wasn’t enough—not for me. I had to prove this, had to show her she’d chosen right, that a beta like me, could make her forget everyone else but me. My mouth worked harder, teeth grazing the sensitive peak, drawing a gasp from her that shot straight to my cock.
But I needed more—craved her like waves crashing upon the beach, stars in the night sky.
Needed to taste her core, to feel her come apart because of me, to erase any shadow of doubt in her eyes.
I kissed lower, trailing fire down her stomach, my hands shaking as they hooked into her pants, sliding them off with her underwear in one desperate tug. The fabric whispered againsther skin, and I tossed it aside, my breath ragged, heart slamming against my ribs.
She was bare now, open, and the sight of her—flushed, slick, waiting—nearly undid me.
She parted her legs, an invitation that hit like permission to exist, and I settled between them, shoulders wedging her thighs wider. My breath came hot against her inner thigh, vanilla-lavender tangled with her arousal, heady and intoxicating, wrapping around my senses until my cock strained painfully against my pants.
I ignored the ache, shoved it down. This wasn’t about me. This was for her—for proving I could be the one she reached for, the one who made her shatter without question, whenever she needed to.
My tongue flicked out, tracing her folds, savoring the slick sweetness that coated her, warm and addictive on my lips. She gasped, hips bucking up, seeking more, and I pinned her thighs with my hands, fingers digging in to hold her open, to keep her there for me. I had to make this count, had to drive her to the edge and over, to hear her cry out because I’d earned it. I delved deeper, tongue circling her clit with deliberate pressure, then dipping inside, tasting her fully, the essence of her flooding my mouth like a reward that I would fight to keep.
Her moans filled the room, raw and desperate, building in pitch as her fingers twisted in my hair, pulling me closer, harder.
Let me prove myself to you.
I sucked at her clit, licked with relentless strokes, varying the rhythm—slow laps to tease, then firm flicks to push—needing to feel every tremor, every clench that said she’d chosen right. Her body tensed under my grip, thighs trembling against my palms, muscles coiling tight, and I doubled down, tongue working faster, deeper, desperate to tip her over.
Then she came, her cry sharp and unbroken, slick flooding my mouth as she arched off the bed, body seizing in waves that I chased with my lips. I lapped at her through the aftershocks, drawing out every last shudder, my hurricane scent raging wild in the air, stormy and unchecked.
But I wasn’t done. Not until she was, until her needs were met, until I knew—deep down—she’d never regret choosing me.
I pulled away slowly, my lips slick with her, a smile tugging at me despite the storm inside. Pleased—gods, yes, pleased that I’d made her shake like that. We both breathed heavy, her chest rising and falling, green eyes half-lidded. I stood, fingers fumbling again, this time with my belt. The buckle clinked, pants dropping, boxers following in a heap. My cock sprang free, hard and aching, but her gaze—hunger there, raw and real—made the vulnerability worth it. Her hair splayed out on the pillow like sunlight on water, watching me, wanting me.
“I need to earn this,” I said, voice low, rough from the need clawing at me. “Make sure you don’t doubt claiming me.” The words hung there, my beta insecurities spilling out, but her eyes didn’t waver—just softened, pulling me in deeper.
She sat up, reaching for me, but I caught her hands, guiding her to the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight, her legs dangling off the side. I stepped between them, lifting her thighs until she wrapped them around my waist, her heels digging into my ass. The height was perfect—her core level with my hips, slick heat brushing my cock. I gripped the counter behind the bed for leverage, no—wait, the nightstand, steadying myself as I pressed into her slowly. She gasped, arms looping around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss that tasted like salt and need.
The angle was tight, intimate, her body arching to meet mine. I thrust shallow at first, savoring the way she clenched, her breath hitching against my mouth. “Jaxom,” she murmured,fingers in my hair, tugging. It spurred me, the desperation to prove myself burning hotter. I picked up pace, hips snapping, her legs tightening around me like she wouldn’t let go. Sweat slicked our skin, her vanilla-lavender scent spiking, mixing with my stormy waves until the room smelled like a hurricane hitting shore.
But I wanted deeper, needed to see her unravel completely. I eased back, her whine of protest hitting me like a gut punch. “Not done,” I muttered, helping her lie back fully, her ass at the bed’s edge. She raised her legs to her chest, knees bent like she was pedaling through air, vulnerable and open. I grabbed her ankles, holding them steady, and slid into her again—deeper this time, the penetration sharp, intense. She winced, a soft sound, and I froze, heart slamming. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“Keep going,” she said, voice breathy, eyes locked on mine. “I want it.”
I thrust slow, deliberate, watching her face for every flicker—pleasure chasing the edge of pain, her moans building. The depth was overwhelming, her walls gripping me tight, pulling me in. I leaned over her, sweat dripping from my brow onto her stomach, my grip on her ankles firm but careful. Each push felt like a claim I had to earn, her body yielding, her cries turning desperate. “You feel that?” I rasped, hips rolling. “That’s me, making sure you know.”
Her hand found my left one, fingers intertwining with mine as she brought it to her lips. The kiss was soft at first, a contrast to the fire building between us, but then her teeth grazed the thenar web space, that fleshy spot between thumb and index finger. She bit down, not hard enough to break skin but firm, marking me with a sting that shot straight to my core. The pain twisted into pleasure, her claim sinking deep, and I groaned, thrusting harder, the rhythm faltering as the coil in me tightened.
She held my hand there, her bite lingering, eyes never leaving mine. The mark throbbed, a promise etched into my skin, and it pushed us both over. Something weaved between us, a rush, a sudden need, an overwhelming foreign feeling that overwhelmed my own.
We came together, her body clenching around me in waves, slick and heat pulling my release from me in hot pulses. I spilled into her, groaning her name, the world narrowing to the feel of her, the scent of us mingled in the air. Her cry mixed with mine, raw and unbroken, her legs trembling in my grip as the aftershocks rolled through us.
I released her ankles slowly, her legs dropping to wrap around me loosely, pulling me down. I collapsed half over her, careful not to crush, my face buried in her neck. Her vanilla-lavender scent wrapped around me, softer now, laced with satisfaction. My hurricane had calmed to gentle waves, lapping at the shore of her calm. We lay there, breaths syncing, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.
“You already earned it,” she murmured, lips brushing my ear. Her hand found mine again, thumb rubbing the bite mark, a faint red crescent that would bruise by morning. “No doubts, Jaxom. You’re mine.”
I lifted my head, meeting her satisfied gaze, as she began to lap her mark—her claim on me.
