Page 60 of Knot Their Soldier: Part One
And then I woke up.
Life is cruel.
I can’t get some respite, even in my dreams.
I reach up and touch the leather collar. My skin tingles underneath, and I desperately want to rub my gland, but I don’t dare take the collar off.
My legs rub against each other as the tingle between my legs intensifies.
I shouldn’t.
But I really want to.
It’s so stupid, and embarrassing, but it’s becoming unbearable. My body is yearning. I’m craving.
It wouldn’t take much. I’m slick and swollen, and I could do it in minutes.
My mind is telling me this is the stupidest idea. But the throb between my thighs is insistent, and no one is in the bunkhouse.
I slip my legs back under the blanket and hike it up around my ears, covering myself completely.
I push my hand down my sweat-soaked uniform and underneath my underwear. I graze my slick folds, and a gasp leaves me as the soft friction gives a little relief.
My legs spread apart, my back arches, and my other hand clutches at the sheets. I close my eyes, and Viper’s face appears before me.
My fingers explore lower.
A shudder runs through me as I feel the hot, swollen skin of my pussy.
The dream returns, but I take control this time. Viper’s hands are mine as my fingers move against the hot folds, stroking up to the top of the hood where my clit is throbbing. My mind focuses on it. Stroking in big circles, working myself into a quick frenzy as the pressure builds.
I slip two fingers lower and push inside, curling up and hitting the sensitive flesh just inside the entrance of my pussy. The spot only a knot can reach when it inflates and stimulates an Omega’s specific bundle of nerves. My fingers pale in comparison to what an Alpha’s knot could do, but I’ve spent years with only my fingers. I know how to play myself just right.
The pressure is building and I move back up to the clit, this time in tight circles, nudging against the bead rapidly with the tip of my finger. My body shudders again. I’m close.
I bite my lip to stifle any sound as my hips start to pump against the air. The climax is so close but tantalizingly out of reach.
Someone clears their throat.
I squeal and wrench my hands from between my thighs. My back stiffens as I’m brought crashing back to the real world. I wrench the blanket up over my head, and pray the bed swallows me whole.
This isn’t happening! This cannot be happening!
My thighs clench together again, and my eyes well with tears of frustration.
Frickity-frack.
I peek over the blanket as the person standing at the entrance of the tent clears their throat again.
Knox is standing there, but he’s purposefully staring at a spot to his right.
“Gear up, Omega Sparks. We start at zero-six-thirty. Pack your belongings in your rucksack.” His voice sounds strangled, choked by clenched teeth and spit.
I can only make a small squeak of acknowledgement.
The door of the tent flaps as he leaves, and I release a shuddering breath I was holding.
I sit up slowly and swing my legs off the side of the bed. My whole body is flushed and burning from embarrassment. The desire has been replaced with pure shame.
