Page 215 of Knot Baked Out For This
It’s greedy, Heat is greedy, and my body’s already throbbing, desperate for another round.
The knots eventually loosen. Rowan withdraws, slow and careful, and I sag forward, ruined, but it’s not enough, I want?—
Levi reads my mind.
“Again, sunshine?”
“Please,” is all I manage, voice hoarse.
He grins, wipes sweat from my cheek, and claims me from the front. This time, Luca’s at my back, thick cock nudging into me, slow and determined.
The rhythm is different—slower, almost worshipful. They hold me, praise me, call me every sweet name until I’m crying —embarrassing— and begging to be filled again.
Levi knots first, locking inside and emptying himself with a long, shuddery moan. Then Luca takes his place, gentlest of them all, careful with my worn-out body. When he knots me, every muscle goes loose, and I melt into the pile, overwhelmed and more loved than anything on the planet.
The air is thick with scent—honey and ginger, dark coffee and burnt sugar, all wrapped around me like a second skin. Their hands stroke every inch, soothing, petting, treating me like something rare and precious.
Am I crying again? Maybe. I can’t tell.
All I know is belonging—how it feels to be wanted, needed, worshipped.
I lose time, drifting on sensation. Every so often, another Alpha claims me, but it’s less about frenzy and more about keeping me anchored, safe, and adored.
Eventually, even Heat can’t keep up, and my body stops thrumming, finally sated. I sag into the nest, absolute pudding,three Alphas and a thousand blankets keeping me from slipping into the void.
For a second, the world is silent except for our breathing. In. Out. Pack rhythm.
I’m still not sure it’s real, but I hope it never ends.
When I come back to myself, it’s like waking up in the middle of a movie marathon I never want to leave.
The nest is a disaster zone: blankets in heaps, every pillow put to use, and the heady patchwork scent of pack sweat, Heat, and whatever was left of that fancy honeycomb. We’re all naked, sprawled over each other like the world’s least intimidating rugby team.
My hips are sore in a way that’s one part soreness, two parts delicious glow.
Muffin, traitor that she is, is curled at my feet, acting like she’s always belonged here. She shoots me a look—judgy, satisfied, but not moving.
Queen Muffin has declared this cuddle pile acceptable.
I’m barely awake. My body’s soft as pudding; my brain’s a sugar cookie left in the sun. All I can manage is a muffled, happy sound—somewhere between a moan and a giggle.
“This is…” I stretch, legs tangling in someone’s calf —Rowan’s, by the size— “totally not like the books.”
Levi grunts, face mashed into my shoulder.
“It’s so much more… knottier,” I sigh, and yes, I say it, because who’s going to stop me, I’ve been literally triple-knotted tonight.
Luca groans.
“Hazel.” Like he’s disappointed in me, but there’s a smile in his voice.
Levi buries his face further.
“Knottier? Really?”
“Best I’ve got, I’m a walking hormone scramble right now.”
Rowan, from the far end, starts laughing—the deep, chesty kind you hear in late-night diners after the world’s best prank.
