Page 28 of Knot Their Arrangement

The power I hold over him in this moment is intoxicating.

Every subtle reaction, every carefully suppressed sound, feeds the possessive beast growing in my chest. I want to mark him, claim him, remind him who he belonged to before any Omega caught his eye.

His lip catches between his teeth as he struggles to focus on Sullivan's words. The gesture is both innocent and maddeningly erotic, making my own control slip dangerously.

"The statistical analysis suggests—" His words cut off in a barely suppressed gasp as I make my claim more forceful. The sound sends triumph racing through me.

Let her try to make you feel like this.

The conversation with Sullivan becomes background noise as we lose ourselves in this dangerous game. One passing car that decides to station next to us could expose us, just like this street lamp that seems to illuminate the matte black concealed ride could contribute to revealing our forbidden connection.

But the risk only makes it sweeter.

The thrill of potentially being caught, of someone seeing the notorious Damon Castellano bent over across the passenger seat for a detective, adds an edge that makes my blood sing.

It's always been like this between us – this perfect balance of power and submission, of control and surrender.

I watch his face as he struggles to maintain his composure, admiring how the streetlight paints shadows across his features. The blend of his Korean and Indian heritage has created something uniquely beautiful, something I've spent years memorizing with my hands and mouth.

He’s doing a pretty good job with my hand retrieving his cock after that agonizing slow descent of his zipper. I’m only being slow to punish him just a bit. To remind him that there are consequences in taunting me.

He bites his lip then as I not only grip his cock firmly, enjoying how his thick length is decorated with veins while the very tip is already glistening with leaky precum.

Sullivan's voice drones on about increased patrol routes and resource allocation, completely oblivious to what's happening on our end of the line.

The irony would be amusing if I weren't so focused on marking my territory.

"We'll need full reports on any suspicious activity," Sullivan continues, but I’m trailing my tongue along the tip of his length, and how Ezekiel can barely tame the low hitch of breath.

Ezekiel clears his throat, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

“Understood, sir.” His voice is steady, but I see the pulse in his neck jump.

Moving up and down his shaft is work, every vein and twitch ignited by my generous sucking movement is driving him wild while he’s continuing this attempt to be all composed.

In control and all that shit.

His hand clenches around the gear shift like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His breathing grows more ragged as I increase my efforts, though he manages to keep his voice steady as he responds to Sullivan’s directives.

Years of practicing control in high-pressure situations serve him well now, but I can feel how close he is to breaking.

Good.

Break for me.

Show me who you really belong to.

I take my time, drawing out his suffering, reveling in the way he struggles to keep his composure.

The conversation with Sullivan feels endless, but I’m in no hurry. Let him try to maintain his professional facade while I remind him exactly why we work so well together.

Why no Omega, no matter how intriguing, could ever understand this part of him like I do.

Ezekiel’s fingers dig into the leather seat, his knuckles going white. His voice remains composed, but I can hear the strain. Sullivan continues rambling, his words fading into static as I push Ezekiel further, testing the limits of his restraint.

Then finally…almost effortlessly…his control snaps.

His free hand tangles in my hair, his grip tight enough to sting.A warning. A plea.But he doesn’t push me away.

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