Page 62 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Please," fantasy-Willa whispers, rolling her hips so her slick coats my length. "Need you inside me, Cole. Need to feel your knot."

My hand moves faster, precum making the slide easy as I imagine pushing into her tight heat. She'd be so wet for me, opening up like she was made to take my cock.

I’d start slow, always slow, not out of courtesy but because if I went at her the way my animal craves, I’d break both of us. So in my head, I take my time, trace every inch of her with my hands and my mouth, memorize the dips and tension points where herreaction flips from shy to demanding. I kiss her first, again and again, mapping the taste of her tongue as she fists my hair and damn near pulls it out by the roots. I whisper to her how perfect she is, how much I want her, how I’ve never needed anyone the way I need this—not just the slick heat of her body but the way she looks at me when she drops her guard, the way her voice goes tight with want.

When I finally push into her, it’s like the world goes monochrome except for the place where our bodies join. She’s small and tight, hot as the coals of an endless wildfire, and I grit my teeth so I don’t fuck it up and lose control. The first thrust is always the best and the worst: her head goes back, mouth falling open in shock and delight, that exquisite split-second where her body fights me before yielding and dragging me deeper. I watch her eyes the whole time, the way her lashes flutter when sensation overloads her. I want her to see herself through me, to know exactly how much she’s undone the man who once thought he had himself locked down tight.

I hold myself there, buried to the hilt, savoring the twitch and throb of her around me. She says my name—just once, quiet and reverent—and I nearly black out from the force of it. But this is the part where she surprises us both. She clutches my shoulders and rolls her hips, grinding down on me like she’s starving for more, using my body the way I always hoped she would. The dominant Omega, all pretenses of shyness burned away by pure need. She moves with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

And God help me, I give her everything. Every deep, grinding upward thrust; every bite along her collarbone; every broken moan I never let myself make in real life. I anchor her with my hands, one at her waist and one in her hair, and let her ride me as hard and fast as she wants. She sets the rhythm, bouncing in my lap with reckless abandon, making the whole truck shakewith our shared violence of want. I can almost hear the slap of skin, the wet, obscene sounds of her body milking mine for every last drop of release. She’d make the sweetest, dirtiest noises—little whimpers at first, then sobs of pleasure that rip the air out of my lungs.

Her nails dig crescent moons into my shoulders, and I welcome every sting. She’s flushed and wild, hair flying, sweat beading on her skin. I can almost smell the ozone crackle of our pheromones filling the cab, drowning out every other scent but hers. She’s so fucking beautiful in this fantasy, ruined and radiant and alive in a way I never dared hope to see.

I ride the edge of orgasm for as long as I can, desperate to make this last, but the way she clenches around my dick—the way her body milks me, demanding surrender—breaks me every time. I want to knot her, to fill her with so much of myself she never questions who she belongs to again. I want her to feel me for days, to see the proof of my claim every time she moves.

The truck rocks slightly with my movements, but I'm past caring. All that matters is the image in my head—Willa bouncing on my cock, her breasts swaying with each thrust, that auburn hair wild around her face as she chases her pleasure. I'd lean forward to capture one nipple between my teeth, sucking hard while she keened above me, her pussy clenching rhythmically around my shaft.

"That's it," I'd growl against her skin. "Take what you need. Show me how an Omega claims her Alpha."

She'd come first, throwing her head back as her walls squeezed me like a vise, slick gushing around my cock as she screamed my name.

The sight, the sound, the feel of her coming apart—it would trigger my own release, my knot swelling fully as I pumped her full of cum, preparing for us to be locked in together while she collapsed against my chest.

Reality crashes back as my orgasm hits, brutal and intense.

I grunt through clenched teeth, hips jerking as rope after rope of cum spurts across my fist and stomach.

My knot throbs at the base, partially swollen and aching for the tight grip of an Omega's pussy to lock into. I massage it roughly, working out the worst of the swelling while aftershocks ripple through me.

"Shit," I pant, reaching for the box of tissues Willa had insisted we buy in town. Something about always being prepared, delivered with that practical efficiency that makes me want to bend her over the nearest surface and show her just how messy things can get.

I clean up as best I can, grateful for the foresight even as my hands shake slightly from the intensity of release. The truck reeks of Alpha musk and cum, so I crack the windows, letting in the cool October air.

It helps, but not enough to hide what just happened from anyone with a functioning nose.

Or this stalking asshole waiting for me.

"Nice night to chill in here," Mavi's voice cuts through the darkness, closer now. He's moved around to the driver's side, hands in his pockets, looking like butter wouldn't melt. "Your food's getting cold."

"You're too old to scare the shit out of me," I snap, tucking myself back in and doing up my jeans with movements that aim for casual and miss by miles.

He rolls his eyes, unimpressed.

"If you can jerk off in your truck, man, you need to know your surroundings. What if it had been Austin? Kid would've been scarred for life."

Guess he doesn’t know I clearly noticed him but I let it slide.

"You're annoying." I shove the door open, forcing him to step back. The night air hits like a blessing, cooling the sweat on my skin and diluting the evidence of my loss of control.

"Cole." His voice shifts, losing the teasing edge. I pause, knowing that tone. It's the one he uses when he's about to say something I don't want to hear. "You sure you want Willa?"

I turn slowly, meeting his green eyes in the porch light.

"What kind of question is that?"

"The kind that needs asking." He leans against the truck, all fake casualness hiding real concern. "If you initiate this, there's no holding back. You know it, I know it, the whole pack knows it. Remember what happened with that Omega from years ago."

My jaw clenches hard enough to crack teeth.

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