Page 73 of Knot Their Arrangement

Damon chuckles darkly, his breath hot against my ear.

"That can be arranged."

Before I can respond, he lifts me effortlessly, his strength undeniable as he moves me like I weigh nothing.

My breath catches as he lays me onto the cool black marble of the table. I brace for the hard drop, expecting to be tossed carelessly, but he eases me down with surprising tenderness as if I’m something fragile, something precious.

The contrast stuns me. The way he wields dominance yet treats me with such care, as if I need to be protected even in my submission, is intoxicating.

My front side presses against the cold surface, a stark contrast to the heat burning between us. The cool sensation sends a shiver through my spine, but before I can react further, Damon leans over me, his lips brushing against my skin.

The first kiss lands between my shoulder blades, soft yet commanding, a mere whisper of what’s to come. Then another. And another.

Each one lower, trailing down my spine, his lips firm yet reverent, as if he’s marking a path down my body. I arch under his touch, my nerves alight, my body buzzing with anticipation. Each press of his mouth feels like a silent claim, a promise, and the mere thought sends a new wave of arousal flooding through me.

A sharp nip at the small of my back makes me gasp, the sting only adding to the spiraling pleasure building inside me.

Damon groans lowly, his hands spreading over my hips, squeezing, kneading, ensuring I feel every ounce of his possession.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration. "So perfect, so ready for us."

I barely have time to process his words before he shifts, his thick length pressing against the curve of my ass.

I whimper at the contact, my body automatically pushing back into him, a silent plea for more. He chuckles at my desperation, his fingers trailing down to spread my legs further apart, exposing me completely.

"Fuck," Damon breathes, his fingers sliding along the slickness between my thighs. "Look at you, already dripping all over the table."

Kieran steps closer, his presence a new pulse of heat in the already-charged atmosphere. He whistles lowly, amusement lacing his tone.

"Damn, she’s soaked." His fingers brush along my cheek before tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. "We’re gonna have to clean you up nicely afterward, sweetheart."

The implication alone sends a new wave of heat flooding through me, my mind momentarily dazed by the thought of what 'afterward' might entail. What would happen once they were both satisfied?

Would they hold me? Would they leave me in a crumpled mess on the table? The uncertainty should scare me, but instead, it excites me.

Damon grips my hips, pulling me back just enough before lining himself up. The thick head of his cock presses against my entrance, teasing, testing.

I inhale sharply, bracing myself against the edges of the table.

Then he pushes forward.

A cry rips from my lips as he stretches me open, a delicious burn that has my thighs trembling, my fingers gripping the marble so tightly that my knuckles whiten.

The sensation is overwhelming, his cock pushing into me inch by inch, spreading me wider than I’ve ever been. My breath comes in short, desperate gasps, my body struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him.

Damon groans, his voice strained as if barely holding himself together.

"God, you’re tight, Kamari."

His words send another pulse of arousal through me, my walls clenching around him in response. He hisses, his fingers digging into my skin, and I can only imagine the way his jaw is clenched, his eyes squeezed shut as he fights to keep himself from losing control.

I force myself to relax, to adjust to the intrusion, but it’s impossible to ignore the way he fills me so completely, leaving no space untouched.

My mind races, and for a brief second, a stray thought flutters through—thank the goddess I’m on birth control. I’ve avoided taking heat suppressants because of their expense, but right now, none of it matters.

All that matters is the way he begins to move, slow at first, letting me adjust, savoring every second of my body's reaction to him.

The first thrust is deep and precise, and I cry out, my entire body arching under him.

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