Page 9 of My Freshman Mate
"That's it," he praises, his eyes locked on mine again. "Good boy. Taking my cock like you were born for it."
He starts to move, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in. The friction is agonizing, then incredible. Each thrust is a deliberate, punishing act of possession. I can feel the thick ridge of his cock-head dragging against that sensitiveplace deep inside me, and my hips begin to jerk upward, chasing the feeling against my will. The wet, slapping sound of our bodies meeting fills the room. The sounds I'm making are shameful—high, keening whimpers and breathless moans. I'm a mess of sweat and tears and slick, completely undone.
"Braiden," he growls, the word a brutal punctuation to each slam of his hips. "Fuck."
His pace increases, growing harder, faster, more desperate. He's not making love to me; he's conquering me, branding me, fucking his claim so deep into my body that my soul will have no choice but to recognize it. The pleasure builds, coiling in my gut, a frantic, spiraling tension that's pulling me toward a cliff.
Then I feel it. A change. A thick, hard swelling at the base of his cock. His knot. The biological lock I've only read about in textbooks. It presses against my entrance, demanding more from me, stretching me impossibly further. The pain is a sharp, blinding spike.
"Wes—" I sob, my body instinctively trying to clench, to resist the unbearable pressure.
"Don't fight it," he snarls, his voice feral. He grips my hips, holding me pinned. "Take it. Take my knot. Let me breed you, let me mark you. Let me make you completely mine."
With one final, powerful thrust, he drives his knot past my entrance. It locks into place with a searing, tearing agony that is instantly consumed by a tidal wave of pleasure so intense it feels like dying. My body convulses around him, my inner muscles clenching on his knot in a desperate, primal rhythm I can't control.
"YES!" he groans, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his voice muffled against my skin. "That's it. That's my omega."
His teeth, sharp and unforgiving, graze the sensitive skin over my scent gland. I know what's coming. The final, irreversible claim. A lifetime decided in a single, savage bite. My lastcoherent thought is a flash of terror, immediately swallowed by a fierce, possessive need. I don't just want it. Ineedit.
I tilt my head, offering myself to him completely. "Please," I gasp out, the word broken. "Mark me.Please."
His growl is a subterranean vibration. His teeth sink in.
The pain is electric, a starburst behind my eyes. And then it's gone, replaced by a euphoric rush so potent it erases everything. My mind goes white. My body detonates. I come with a scream torn from my throat, my orgasm ripping through me, my release flooding my stomach as my body spasms violently around his knot.
Wes holds me through it, his teeth buried in my flesh, his own release pulsing inside me, a hot, heavy flood that rewrites my DNA. He's filling me, seeding me, branding me his from the inside out. Forever.
When he finally releases my neck, his tongue immediately soothes the wound, lapping at the blood and saliva that seal the bond. He keeps licking, a soft, repetitive motion, like he's trying to erase the sting, even though he's the one who caused it. His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek in a gesture so tender it makes me want to cry all over again.
I'm shaking, trembling with the aftershocks of the most intense experience of my life. My mind is blank, wiped clean of all thought, all plans, all resistance. There is only this moment, only Wes, only the undeniable reality of what we've just done.
He shifts us, mindful of the knot still locking us together, until we're lying on our sides, my back pressed to his chest. His arms wrap around me, one hand splayed possessively over my stomach, the other cradling my head against his bicep. His body curls around mine, protective, possessive.
"Mine," he murmurs against the back of my neck, his breath warm on my skin. "All mine now."
I should panic. This wasn't part of The Plan. My five-year plan, my med school applications, my color-coded study schedule—all rewritten in a few hours by a guy I literally ran into on the quad.
But I can't panic. I can't even worry. A weird peace settles over me. Certain in a way I've never felt before—it's strange but also… right. My omega side—the part I've always pushed down and ignored—is finally satisfied. Content.
"So... what happens now?" My voice is a small, uncertain thing.
Wes's arms tighten around me, pulling me closer against his chest. I can feel his heart beating, strong and steady, against my back.
"Now? We start our life," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Together."
"But my classes—"
"You'll go to your classes," he interrupts, his voice firm but not unkind. "The only thing that's different is where you sleep. Who you come home to."
My throat is dry. "And that's...?"
"Here," he says, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind my ear. "With me. Where you belong."
His knot is still locked inside me, a physical reminder of our bond. It should feel invasive, uncomfortable. Instead, it feels like a missing puzzle piece slotting into place. Like completion.
"My parents are going to freak out," I murmur, a hysterical little laugh bubbling up in my throat. "This wasn't exactly what they had in mind when they sent me off to college."
Wes chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine. "They'll get it when they meet me." His confidence is absolute. "They'll see how I am with you. How we are together."
