Page 67 of Knot Your Karma
“Full—claimed—yours—” Each word comes out broken, gasping between thrusts of my fingers. “Pack omega—made for this—made for you?—”
The honesty strips away the last of my careful control. She’s not playing games or performing—this is designation biology at its purest, omega in heat recognizing pack and surrendering completely.
I flip us, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while positioning myself at her entrance. The movement is more forceful than I’d normally be, but rut demands dominance from willing omega.
“Stay still,” I command. “Let me position you properly.”
She goes instantly pliant, heat-drunk brain responding to alpha authority like she’s hardwired for obedience. Thesurrender makes rut roar with satisfaction—omega submitting to pack alpha exactly as biology intended.
“Good girl,” I praise, gripping my cock to line up with her entrance. Even through rut-hazed focus, I take care. This is still Karma. Still our sweet omega who deserves reverence despite her current desperation.
“Please—” she whispers, pupils dilated with heat and trust. The single word carries everything she can’t articulate—need and want and complete faith that I’ll give her what biology is demanding.
I sink into her in one smooth thrust, and she screams—not from pain, but from satisfaction at being filled by her alpha. Her back arches as I stretch her, heat making her hypersensitive to every sensation.
“That’s it,” I groan, giving her a moment to adjust before setting a rhythm that’s more demanding than my usual gentle pace. Rut makes everything urgent, focused. “Feel how your body opens for me? How you recognize your alpha?”
“Recognize—yes—” she gasps between thrusts that rock her whole body. “Supposed to be—inside me—claiming—yours?—”
I lean down to bite the junction of her neck and shoulder—not hard enough to break skin, but firm enough to trigger submission responses. She comes instantly, cunt clamping down on my cock as her whole body goes rigid with pleasure.
“Alpha bite,” she sobs, tears streaming down her face from overwhelming sensation. “Marking—showing—pack?—”
“That’s right.” I lick the bite mark, tasting salt and satisfaction. Rut is turning everything simple—omega needs, alpha provides, pack bonds deepening with each claiming. “My omega. Pack omega.”
The possessive language makes her clench around me again, heat biology responding to territorial claiming with desperate enthusiasm.
“Yours,” she agrees, completely lost to designation instincts. “Pack omega—made for—designed to?—”
My rhythm becomes more demanding, construction-strong hips driving into her with mechanical precision. This position lets me go deep, hitting the spots that make her biology sing with satisfaction. Rut strips away finesse, leaving only the need to claim thoroughly and completely.
“Feel that?” I press down on her lower belly where my cock creates a visible bulge. The sight triggers something possessive and primitive. “Feel how deep alpha gets inside his omega? Gonna knot you here, stretch you properly.”
“Want that—” she pants, legs wrapping around my waist to pull me deeper. “Want alpha knot—want to be—locked together—biology?—”
My knot starts swelling, body responding to everything she needs. The sensation overwhelms us both—her body preparing to take everything I can give, mine responding to fertile omega with unstoppable drive.
“Knot’s swelling,” I warn, my rhythm becoming erratic as rut-driven biology takes over completely. “Gonna lock inside you, fill you properly.”
“Do it—” she demands, nails digging into my shoulders with heat-driven strength. “Knot me—fill me—give me what—what heat?—”
The knot swells fully, locking us together as my orgasm crashes through me. I pump endless streams of seed into her while she convulses around me, her cunt designed to milk every drop.
“So full—” she whimpers, hands pressed to her belly where my cum is filling her. “Alpha seed—body feels—complete?—”
“Just the beginning,” I promise, rolling us so she’s sprawled across my chest, knot still thick inside her. Even through rut-haze, I make sure she’s comfortable, that herweight is supported properly. Pack alpha takes care of pack omega. “Heat lasts days. We’ll keep you satisfied.”
She moans at the promise, cunt fluttering around my knot.
From across the nest, Declan’s cedar scent spikes with renewed arousal. “Fuck, Adrian. She’s responding to everything.”
“Heat strips away human inhibitions,” I explain, one hand stroking down her spine while the other palms her ass. My voice still carries rut-roughness, but the explanation comes easier as biology settles into satisfaction. “Leaves only designation responses.”
Reed stirs nearby, ocean breeze sharpening as he wakes to the scent of claiming and satisfaction. “Round two already?”
“Heat doesn’t follow human schedules,” I point out, though I’m already planning how to position her for the next round. Rut makes everything about maximum efficiency, perfect satisfaction. “Biology takes what it needs.”
Karma makes a sound of contentment, pressing her face against my chest. Even in heat-haze, she seeks pack scent, pack comfort.
