Page 84 of Her Knotty Alphas

"Shit, Hannah," He grunts, his fingers digging into my hips in the most delicious way. "It's been…so long…I don't know how long I'm going to last."

My omega preens at having such an effect on our alpha, and can't help but wiggle my hips a little.

"I thought you said you'd be good," Noah grits out, tightening his grip on me to hold me still. When he draws out, I almost whimper at the loss of him, but then he slowly, tortuously, enters me again, and inch by inch, his hard, steely, alpha cock fills me up so good. "There you go," he groans, "my sweet princess."

My pussy clenches at his words, and his pace picks up. Each drag of his length against my inner walls drives me higher and higher, until I'm looming over the edge.

Then his arm bands around my stomach, and I'm being hauled up so we're both on our knees, his chest pressed into my back as his other hand clasps my neck. He holds me in place while he fucks me, and my head falls back on his shoulder, rolling to the side.

My eyes widen when I catch a glimpse of our reflection in the full length mirror on the wall. "You like seeing yourself, princess?" Noah murmurs in my ear as he thrusts up. He meets my eyes in the mirror, and I can't help but think about how perfect we look together. How picturesque our bodies look slotted together, my arms behind me, looped around his neck while he has one arm banded around my waist and one hand onmy throat. "Fuck, we need to get this painted or something." He groans, before sealing his mouth over the side of my neck and sucking hard. "Gonna bite you right there someday," he groans.

"Yes, yes, I want that." I hardly recognize my own voice. "I want you to bond me, Noah."

"Fuck, princess," he moves the hand that's gripping my waist down to my clit. "I love you so damn much, but we need to wait for the others too." He doesn't give me a chance to pout, sealing his mouth over my neck again and sucking in the same spot, giving me the pseudo-sensation of a bonding mark. My omega accepts it. For now.

When the pressure of his mouth on my neck tips me over the edge, and Noah groans. "Gonna…knot…now—" he cuts himself off when he shoves up into me, his knot popping in place and sending the best kind of shock waves through my body, taking my orgasm and multiplying ten-fold. He continues to rut up into me in shallow little thrusts until his own release follows, and then we're collapsing onto the bed, still locked together, my back settled against his chest.

"I'm never going to get enough of you." Noah murmurs, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"I fucking love you, Noah Jameson." I yawn, snuggling back into him.

"And I fucking love you, Hannah Beckham."

Chapter 35

Charlie

Gods, the sight of my omega wearing my jersey makes me hard as a rock.

It also makes me distracted as hell, and I let the ball get stolen from right under my nose. "Williams! Head in the game!" Coach Whitlock calls out, and I shake my head, jogging towards the other side of the court. This may be practice, but Coach expects one hundred and ten percent at all times. He's kind of a hard-ass. Which we all love, but at times like this, it would be nice to have a little leeway.

Hannah sits where the court-side seats would be, her now shorter hair pulled half up and wavy with little pieces framingher face in the front. She already looks cute as fuck, but then add in my jersey, with my name and number on it? She's swimming in the blue and white fabric, but she has it tied in the corner to show off her waist, and a pair of ass-hugging leggings and pink high-top Converse make her my teenage wet dream.

This morning, when she rolled over and asked to come to practice with me since she doesn't have any clients today, my heart nearly burst in my damn chest. All I could think about was her wanting to spend time with me, one-on-one. I found an extra jersey and gave it to her to wear, knowing I'd need some form of claim on her if she was going to be in a room with my whole team.

What Ididn'tthink about, however, is how I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off her.

She's on the edge of her seat, watching the scrimmage play out, and I can just hear the things she wants to scream at us. She always has been a very…vocalbasketball watcher.

That's the thing, too. Ever since we sorted our shit out in the hospital, it's like little glimpses of who Hannah used to be are coming back. No more timid, unsure, afraid-of-being-rejected-Hannah. Kick-ass Hannah is on her way back to town and I can't wait to see her in all of her glory.

My teammate, Berkley, catches the rebound after Daniels misses his shot, and passes it to me. I dribble, keeping the ball bouncing in a steady rhythm. My eyes dart to Hannah as my team sets up on the other side of the court. She widens her eyes and jerks her head towards the basket like,What are you looking at me for? Play the game, Golden Boy!

Chuckling and shaking my head, my eyes scan the court, looking to see who's open, and what kind of play we can pull. Putting two fingers to my chin, a symbol we came up with just for the scrimmage, and dip left. Berkley sets up a screen on Henderson, letting me get by, but when I go to pass to Medina,he's being blocked by Carrillo. Now Landry is on me, his arms up. Fuck.

Then Hannah's voice filters in. "Number twenty-three is open! He's rightfuckingthere, Golden Boy! What are you doing?!"

My teammates around me freeze, and I can hear the sound of stifled laughter as fucking Landry tries not to lose it. My eyes shoot to Hannah, wondering how Coach is going to take her sudden interruption, but he's standing right there next to her, his arms crossed as he looks at her with approval.

"What are you waitin' for, Williams?" Coach smirks at me. "Your omega is spot on."

His words bring a little bit of levity to the situation and just like that, the tension is zapped out of the game. Suppressing a laugh, I pass to number twenty-three, Thompson, and he shoots the basket.

Coach blows his whistle. "Alright, I can see we aren't going to get much else done today. You guys hit the showers." My brows shoot up, and Henderson, Medina, and I exchange a look. Coach has never let us out of practice early. He's a notorious hard-ass.

We're not going to argue with being let out of practice two hours early though, and while the rest of my team heads to the locker room, giving mutters of, "Golden Boy needs to bring his omega around more often," I break away to where Hannah is sitting on the sidelines, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the bottom of my t-shirt.

She's talking to Coach about something with an animated expression while he looks at her with something like…nostalgia. Coach is an older alpha, somewhere in his sixties, but he's a legend. He got drafted straight out of high school, played for the Pleasanton Timberwolves for ten years before trading to the Starbrook City Meteors and playing another fifteen. Then he retired and became assistant coach for the Meteors, and now, twenty years later he's head coach for that same team.

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