Page 173 of Bound By Song

She screams.

Not in pain – in need. In fucking ecstasy.

“Oh my god— Dane— Daddy! Fuck!”

Her cunt grips me like a vice, sucking me in deeper every time I pull back.

I set a brutal rhythm – pistoning into her from behind, spanking her ass with every other thrust, watching the skin flush under my hand. She moans for it, back arching more with each slap, each brutal snap of my hips.

“You feel that?” I snarl, voice half-gone. “That’s what you wanted. Your alpha losing control. You wanted to be used. Filled. Bred.”

“Yes!” she sobs, nearly incoherent. “Please, Daddy— Fuck me harder— I want your knot! Want it now!”

Her orgasm slams into her so fast it steals her breath.

She clenches down so hard I almost come. Her body jerks, thighs trembling violently, and I spank her again – sharp and low.

“Good girl,” I growl, riding her through it. “So fucking perfect like this. You’re taking it so well.”

I feel her body go slack under me, then tense again as the next wave builds. I reach around and rub her clit in tight circles, keeping her right on the edge, teasing her until she screams again – louder, harsher – climaxing all over me for a second time.

“Daddy! Please. Please, I need it! I need it so bad?—”

“You want my knot?” I pant, voice barely human.

She nods frantically, words gone, head thrown back.

I reach under her belly, pulling her tighter against me, and ram in to the hilt.

My knot swells hard and fast, locking us together with a thick, unmistakable throb. She gasps – body seizing – before melting around me like she’s finally found peace.

And I come.

It tears out of me in a rush – pulse after pulse of heat flooding her cunt, coating her walls, filling her in a way that’s primal and complete. Her body milks me through every throb, every twitch, her pussy still fluttering with aftershocks.

“Mine,” I growl against her neck. “My omega. My perfect fucking girl.”

She sobs again, but it’s not pain. It’s not despair.

It’s relief.

She reaches back, fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me down until I’m blanketing her completely. I kiss the back of her neck, scent-marking every inch of her, my purring rising up like a storm beneath my skin.

“You’re safe,” I murmur, nuzzling her throat. “You’re mine. I’ve got you, baby.”

She sniffles, face buried in the blankets, but her whole body relaxes against me – tied together, knotted, claimed.

And as we slowly lower to the nest, still joined, still pulsing, I whisper it again just for her.

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

We fuck like rabbits for twenty-four hours straight. I swear she’s turned me into a horny teenager with zero refractory period.

Sleep? Don’t need it.

Food? Forgotten about.

Fluids? Plenty. So long as they’re from the fucking chalice of nectar between her legs.

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