Page 139 of Knotted By my Pack
Two knots. Her body’s stretched tight, full to bursting.
She goes limp.
“I think I’m gonna faint,” she murmurs, barely audible.
Elias catches her face in his hands, eyes softening. “Just breathe.”
Her whole body pulses between us. Her belly’s distended with the amount we’ve filled her. Her heat isn’t even peaking yet.
“This is insane,” she pants. “I hope you aren’t getting tired of this.”
Julian laughs quietly, forehead pressed to her spine. “Not when you taste like this.”
She sags into our grip, still twitching from the aftershocks. “I can’t move.”
Elias brushes her hair out of her eyes. “You don’t have to. We’ll do everything. You just let us take care of you.”
My knot’s still locked tight, and so is Julian’s. We’re stuck inside her for a while, both of us panting, sweat dripping. She reaches for Elias weakly, and he lets her pull him in for a kiss.
She’s flushed. Soaked. Shining with slick and come and need.
“I’m still hungry,” she whispers, half-crazed.
Julian growls against her skin. “We need to move her.”
I nod and we start moving slowly, carefully guiding her toward the couch in the living room. She whimpers when we shift her, the sensitivity making her squirm.
We ease her down gently. I lay beneath her, still buried deep, while Julian stays behind, both of us still throbbing, trapped.
Elias kneels by her head, stroking her cheek.
“You’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll get you through this.”
Her eyes flutter open. Wild. Ravenous.
“I need you again when the knots go down,” she says.
I grin, licking sweat from her temple. “You’ll get us. Every inch. As many times as you want.”
And she will.
Because this heat isn’t breaking anytime soon.
And neither are we.
It takes sixteen hours.
Sixteen brutal, perfect, merciless hours before her scent finally fades into something soft, barely there.
The fire in her skin is gone, though the imprint of it still lingers on every surface in this house. We’re wrecked. She’s wrecked. I think my spine forgot how to hold itself up.
Julian’s half-asleep on the floor with his arm still draped over her thigh. Elias made grilled sandwiches in the middle of it all.
I have no idea how he found the strength to slice cheese, let alone toast bread, but he pulled it off. None of us had eaten anything solid in a day.
Cora is curled in a blanket between us, blinking slowly like she’s still dreaming.
She takes one bite of the sandwich Elias made and barely chews before slumping back into the couch with it resting on her chest.
