Page 101 of Knot All that Glitters: Part 1

“Please. Please. Please.” I repeat the word over and over until it all blends together.

“Tell me what you are, angel.”

I know what he wants, it’s the same thing all of them want. I’ve said the words so many times in the last few weeks it doesn’t even phase me anymore. “I’m your sweet little slut.”

He groans, bending forward to scrape his teeth over my shoulder. “That’s right. My sweet little slut. Look at you taking my cock so good, letting me fuck you right here where anyone could see.”

I mean any of his pack mates, but that’s not uncommon these days, anyway. Still, the idea of it, of being caught in this position, is enough to make me clench around his dick. My release is right there, so fucking close, but still just out of reach. “I’m close. Tic, I’m close.”

“I’m right there with you, baby,” he growls. His arms loop under my body, lifting my torso off the counter and my toes leave the ground. I drag my forearms under me, taking some of my weight, but most of it is on Tic. My legs sway back and forth with every thrust, my nipples brush against the soft flour, as Tic all but uses me as a sex toy, fucking into me hard and fast.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I moan. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“That’s it. Give it to me, angel. Give it to me. So I can give you what you need.”

“Knot. Knot. Knot,” I chant. He chuckles like he loves hearing me beg for it. And then my body is moving, flipping. My shoulders meet the cold stone counter, my legs wrap around his hips, and his hand braces against my chest, pinning me in place. “You want it, omega? You want my knot?”

I make that mewling sound again. “Yes. Please.Please.”

“Say it.”

“I want your knot. I want your cum filling me up. I want you to breed me, Tic, please.”

His whiskey eyes go even more molten than they already were. The tendons in his neck stand out and I swear his teeth grind together.

“Take it, omega,” he growls out, slamming his hips forward and locking his knot in place. “Fucking take it.”

Stars explode behind my eyes as I scream. Tic goes in and out of my vision, his own release hitting him hard. I feel him spill inside me, over and over, hot cum filling me up as my body does what it does best and milks his knot.

“Fuck, Haven,” he breathes out, staring down at me, sweat slicked chest heaving. “Fuck. How do you do that to me? It’s like every time with you is better than the last.”

My skin is sticky with sweat and flour. I’m sure I look a mess, but I don’t care as I smile up at him. “It’s the same for me, too. Like you were made for me and I was made for you.”

The words just slip out, and in the back of my mind, part of me is screaming that I shouldn’t say stuff like that to them. They never say it back, but I don’t know how to be anything but honest with them. After years of having to hide my true feelings, of being forced into it, I don’t want to do it anymore.

His blissed out expression fades though, and a wrinkle appears between his brows. Not a full on frown, but something close. He says nothing in response and my heart does the normal sinking thing it does anytime I share how I’m feeling and I’m met with this. With silence or a change of subject.

I keep my smile in place, though. After all, practice makes perfect and I’ve had a lot of practice with this. My fingers brush over the hard ridges of his abs, down to where we’re connected. His eyes drift closed at the contact, then fly open when I let out a breathy moan as my fingers circle my clit.

I love being knotted. It’s my new favorite thing. But being bound to them, stuck on them—literally—when all I want to do is disappear because I said something stupid is now my newleastfavorite thing.

The only way to get out of it faster is to make whichever alpha I’m pinned to come a lot. And to do that, I need to come a lot. The knot will go down naturally if we let it, but more often than not, we don’t.Idon’t. Because I can’t bear to have them look at me like Tic is right now.

Tic groans when I clench around him again, my fingers working furiously against my clit. HIs hands slid onto my hips, thumbs resting in the creases, holding me steady so he can fuck me in short thrusts, more grinding than anything, his knot keeping the movement shallow.

I make a soft sound when I come, nothing like the first time, and Tic’s eyes close as he spills in me.

We do that twice more and his knot still hasn’t deflated, but I’m sure it will soon. “Jesus,” he groans against my chest, sweaty forehead pressing to my collarbone. “I don’t think I have any cum left in me. You’ve milked me dry.” My fingers stroke through his soft hair even as tears prick my eyes.

This happens a lot too. This crash after sex, this feeling that I’m not getting what I need from them. What my omega needs from them.

You’d think I would have learned by now, that I would keep my distance and limit how much sex I have with them, but I can’t keep myself away from them.

By the time Tic lifts his head and looks down at me, with a soft smile on his lips, I’ve gotten myself under control. Enough so that he doesn’t notice that I’d just been on the verge of crying. “You’re covered in flour.”

I hum. “Yes, that’s bound to happen when we fuck on a counter covered with it.”

A soft kiss to my lips and then he lifts me. My legs and arms wrap around his big body. I’m still caught on his knot so we can’t separate yet. He carries me over to the couch in the living room, pausing to swipe up his shirt, before sitting on the couch with me straddling him.

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