Page 107 of Down Knot Out
He works up my body, lips brushing my hip, my belly, and the under-curve of my breast. Stripping off his shirt, he climbs onto the bed,settling between my spread legs, and mouths the cotton of my underwear, his nose rubbing my clit through the dampening fabric. I whimper, back arching, giving myself over to the pleasure he offers.
He pulls the fabric aside, mouth closing over me, tongue circling, teeth scraping just enough to leave me writhing. I reach for his hair, pulling the band out to free his chestnut waves and take hold as the world blurs at the edges.
Hunger rumbles from him as his tongue thrusts inside me, licking and sucking until my body warms with slick, readying for my Alpha.
Sitting back on his heels, he uses both hands to peel away my underwear slowly enough for each inch to register. The air chills my skin, but it’s anticipation that shivers up my spine.
He hikes my knees up and apart, then slides one hand along the seam of my thigh. His thumb brushes the slick heat at my center, testing, circling, then pushing inside.
I gasp, rocking my hips into his hand.
“You’re so good at this,” he murmurs, as he strokes in and out, finding a rhythm that loosens the knot in my chest and draws it south, heat pooling where I need it most.
The pressure of his thumb moves to my clit,adjusting speed and rhythm in tune with every shift of my breath until my whole body sings.
His finger finds my other entrance, teasing but not forcing. He uses my slick to massage the tight ring with gentle pressure, working in slow circles until my muscles yield, softening under his touch.
He alternates between both places, sometimes in unison, sometimes focusing on just one, and my mind unspools into wordless pleasure. Each stretch and fill is new, both jarring and addictive, and I want more, even as it threatens to split me open.
He leans over me, beard rasping my cheek. “You okay?”
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, my legs shaking.
He kisses my mouth, tongue dipping inside as his fingers push knuckles deep into my ass. He groans, the rumble vibrating through me. “You’re slicking back here, too.”
I whimper, tilting my ass to take his fingers.
“When your Heat comes, your body will want your Alphas’ cocks, anyway it can take them.” He picks up the toy, coats it with my slick, and holds it up for my inspection. “Want to see how that will feel?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He gazes down my body. “Fuck, you’re so pretty and pink everywhere.”
The toy lines up to my ass, the tip swirling before he applies pressure. My muscles give, slowly, the stretch at first burning but turning blissful. He pushes in only as far as I can handle and waits, rubbing my clit with his other hand until my body adjusts.
The feeling of fullness is unlike anything I’ve known, and my inner muscles flutter around the silicone, trying to learn this new pleasure.
He works the toy in and out, matching each movement with a flick or press to my clit. The sensations combine, looping into a feedback that lifts me higher with each pass. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, the line of my jaw, murmuring praises as my hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the fullness.
I’m close, already, and he senses it. He increases the rhythm, working the tentacle and his fingers in tandem.
“Blake,” I gasp. “Please?—”
His eyes burn with desire as he pushes the toy deeper, the thick base stretching me open.
The orgasm sweeps over me, every muscle contracting, every nerve ending firing at once. I cry out, limbs shaking. He holds me through it, never letting the sensation die, working me through every aftershock.
As I come down, he withdraws the toy and traces a lazy pattern down my thigh. “Still with me?”
“Yeah,” I pant, “still here.”
He kisses my knee before he moves to strip off his jeans, muscles flexing with each motion. Gently, he coaxes me onto my stomach, then up onto my hands and knees as he moves into position behind me, lining his cock up to my entrance.
With a steadying palm on my back, he rolls his hips once, letting the tip part my swollen folds before he eases inside.
The first inch burns in a delicious way that tells me I’m being claimed. He doesn’t rush as his hands span my hips, holding them still while he sinks forward, taking me one slow, torturous inch at a time.
The fullness threatens to take my breath. I arch, the muscles of my thighs and arms burning from the tension.
