Page 99 of Knotted By my Pack
The ache deepens, blending pleasure and pain in a way that’s almost overwhelming.
Julian moves inside me with steady, brutal thrusts, each one a reminder of the claim he’s laid on my body and soul. He whispers my name like a prayer, voice rough with need and something darker, more possessive.
The room tightens around us, filled with the sound of skin slapping and ragged breaths tangled together.
I grasp the edges of the couch, nails digging into the fabric as he drives harder, deeper, until I’m lost in the endless fullness, the overwhelming heat pulsing between us.
When he finally comes, it’s with a guttural growl, the knot swelling inside me like a living thing. I cry out, voice raw and desperate, my body trembling as it rides the wave of his climax.
We collapse together again, bodies tangled, hearts syncing in a fierce, fragile rhythm. I press my cheek to his chest, hearing the thunderous beat beneath my ear.
The knot inside me reminds me that that this is more, a tether that ties me to Julian in ways I’m only beginning to understand.
I close my eyes, letting the haze wash over me. For all the uncertainty, the wildness, and the danger, part of me is desperate to hold onto this moment—this fierce, untamed connection that neither of us can deny.
It takes another three orgasms before he’s finally satisfied. My legs ache, body slack and overheated, but there’s something in the way he moves now—slower, quieter—that makes everything settle differently.
He brushes his mouth over my collarbone, then trails soft kisses along my jaw before rising.
He leaves for a moment, only to return with a warm cloth. He kneels between my thighs, eyes unreadable as he cleans me up. Not rushed. Not cold. His touch borders on reverent.
I shift a little, sensitive and raw, but he only shushes me with a palm over my hip and finishes carefully. Then he’s tossing the cloth aside, reaching for my clothes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Come here,” he says.
I sit up slowly, flushed and sore, as he fastens my bra, his knuckles grazing my skin like it’s made of silk. Next are my panties—fresh ones, plucked from my bag.
He lifts one of my legs, then the other, sliding the fabric up with both hands. His fingers smooth the elastic along my hips like he’s sealing a promise.
He helps me into my skirt, tugging it up and then pausing to brush his knuckles along my thigh, lips twitching into something I can’t quite decipher.
Then comes my blouse. He threads my arms through the sleeves one at a time, then pulls it down over my body before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“There,” he murmurs. “Perfect.”
Once I’m dressed, he finally stands and buttons his own pants and shirt, still watching me with that unreadable expression.
“I’ll talk to you later, princess.Okay?”
I nod. He leans in and softly kisses my lips before brushing them over his mark on my neck. Then he leaves, quiet and sure, shutting the door behind him.
When I step out from the back room a few minutes later, Grace is already here.
She’s leaning by the counter, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, well,” she hums. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”
I freeze mid-step, cheeks lighting up with a heat that climbs fast. “Grace,” I say, voice tight with embarrassment. “I didn’t hear you come in. Have you been waiting for long?”
She laughs, waving me off. “Relax. I just stopped by to check on you after everything.” Her smile softens. “You good?”
I nod quickly. “Yeah. Just… I think I need the rest of the day off. I’ll be back baking tomorrow.”
She tilts her head. “Understandable. Any update from the cops?”
“Not yet.”
She clicks her tongue. “They’ll figure it out. I know they will.”
There’s a small pause before she moves toward the door. “We should go out soon. Drinks, maybe. Blow off some steam.”
