Page 171 of Saddle and Scent
“Good,” he says, and then he’s flipping me over, strong hands turning me onto my knees and elbows before I have time to protest.
“I’m gonna be a bit dominant now,” he says, voice gone deep and dangerous. “Is my Omega gonna be submissive for me?”
I pout, but the truth is, I want it.
I want to be his, even if only for the next five minutes.
“Yes,” I say, voice small. “Please.”
He rewards me with a slow, careful slide—his cock pressing into me with steady pressure, filling me up inch by inch until I’m gasping again, every nerve ending raw and ready.
He sets a rhythm, slow and deep, every thrust perfectly measured to drive me wild without ever losing control.
His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in just enough to ground me, and I can feel his body shaking with restraint.
“You’re perfect,” he says, over and over, like a prayer. “So fucking perfect, Bell. Always wanted you. Always.”
I can’t answer.
I’m too far gone, too full, too overwhelmed by the way he owns me, the way he makes me feel safe even as he’s tearing me apart.
It doesn’t take long before I’m close again, the pressure building faster than I thought possible. Beckett must feel it, because he picks up the pace, driving into me with a force that makes the whole bed shake.
“Come for me,” he demands, voice rough. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you.”
I do. I break again, shuddering and gasping, my whole body going rigid as I clench down around him.
He comes with a groan, knot swelling inside me, locking us together as he spills himself deep. The sensation is overwhelming, so intense I almost sob.
We collapse together, Beckett’s weight heavy and warm on my back, his arms wrapping around my waist as he peppers kisses over my shoulders.
“Jesus, Bell,” he says, breathless. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
I laugh, dazed.
“You started it.”
We stay like that, tangled and sticky, for a long time. His knot keeps us locked together, and I’m not in any hurry to get free. It’s comfortable. Safe. Like maybe this is what I was always supposed to have.
Eventually, the knot goes down and Beckett slips out, leaving me aching but satisfied. He pulls me close, spooning me from behind, and I let myself rest in his arms.
Wes is already snoring softly, one leg thrown over the pile of bodies.
Callum is sitting at the head of the bed, watching us with a look that’s equal parts hunger and amusement.
“Your turn?” I ask him, voice slurred with sleep.
He just smiles, all teeth and promise. “Only if you want me, Bell.”
I reach for him, not caring that I’m a mess, not caring that I’m already spent.
“Always,” I say, and mean it.
You knowthat saying about how you should always save the best for last?
That’s a lie.
I want it all, and I want it right now.
