Page 84 of Knotted By my Pack
His tongue presses inside me, and I jerk above him, thighs quaking. He growls, and I feel it in every nerve ending.
I rock against him without realizing it, chasing it. Chasingeverything. My orgasm builds fast, overwhelming. My hands are shaking, knees threatening to give out.
When it hits, it rips through me like a dam breaking. I cry out his name, hips grinding helplessly against his face as wave after wave crashes through me.
He holds me through all of it, tongue gentling but never stopping.
I collapse beside him, gasping. Trembling.
He doesn’t give me long to recover.
He grabs me, flips me into his lap with a grunt, and I feel him—hard, hot, thick—pressing at my entrance. I reach between us and guide him in, sinking down onto him slowly.
Inch by perfect inch.
The stretch is so good it borders on painful. I moan, clinging to his shoulders. His hands grip my waist, helping me settle fully.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “So wet. You were made for me.”
I start to move, grinding my hips, rolling slowly. His head tips back, jaw clenched. My name leaves his mouth like a prayer and a curse all at once.
His hands slide up my back, then into my hair, tugging gently as I ride him. My body is still buzzing from before, but it builds again fast.
The slick glide of him inside me, the way he hits deep on every upward thrust—it’s too much.
“You’re mine,” he says, voice low and lethal against my skin. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, and it feels true. Like it always has been.
He growls and grabs my ass, thrusting up into me hard enough to make me cry out again. My nails rake across his chest, anchoring me as I bounce on him harder, faster.
The pressure builds again. His mouth finds my nipple, sucks deep, and I shatter. My body clenches around him, and I sob into his shoulder as another orgasm tears through me.
He doesn’t stop.
“Come with me,” he grits out. “Now, Cora.”
He thrusts up once, twice more—then groans into my neck as he releases deep inside me. The heat of it makes me moan again, and I cling to him, breathless, spent, wrecked.
He holds me there, forehead against mine, both of us trembling.
My body still pulses from the aftershocks, slick against his skin. I stay in his lap, legs draped over his thighs, face tucked into the space where his shoulder meets his neck.
We don’t speak. The silence hums, broken only by the sound of our breaths slowly finding their rhythm again. He strokes my back lazily, fingers tracing the curve of my spine. I feel the rise of his chest under my cheek. Solid. Warm.
Real in a way that makes everything else fall away.
He presses a kiss to my temple, his stubble scratching lightly against my skin. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gravel and honey.
“Mmm.” I smile against him. “You ask like I wasn’t just the one riding you senseless.”
He chuckles low in his throat, kisses me again. “Just checking.”
I stretch, wince a little at the delicious soreness setting in, and slide off his lap. He catches my hand before I get far.
“Shower with me?”
The look in his eyes leaves no room for saying no.
