Page 4 of Knot Your Romeo

I’m wearing my nicest underwear—black lace that I bought at a half-price sale—but under his gaze, I feel like I’m wearing diamond-encrusted lingerie.

“Beck,” I start, but he silences me with another kiss, this one hungrier, more demanding.

“What do you need?” he asks, settling me back against the pillows. “Tell Daddy what you need.”

My eyes open wide. The word should shock me. Should make me push him away and demand he take me back to my room. Instead, I arch toward him, seeking more contact, more pressure, more of whatever this is.

“I don’t know,” I admit, and it’s the truth. I’ve had sex before—it was more of a fumbling encounter with a boy my age and he was more concerned with his own pleasure than mine. But this feels different.

“That’s okay, baby girl.” His mouth finds the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I shiver. “Daddy’s going to teach you exactly what you need.”

His hands map my body with the patience of someone who has all the time in the world, finding places that make me gasp and arch and forget my name. When he finally settles his head between my thighs, I’m already trembling.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my inner thigh. “Such a good girl for me. Daddy’s going to make you feel so good, baby. Going to take such good care of this perfect little body.”

The first touch of his tongue makes me cry out, back arching off the bed. He chuckles against me; the vibration sends fresh waves of sensation through my core.

“That’s it,” he coaches, his voice muffled but warm with approval. “Let me hear how good it feels. Let Daddy know what his good girl needs.”

My eyes roll into the back of my head. If someone told me I’d like the words coming out of his mouth, I’d have laughed in their faces. But with Beck, I’m losing track of time, lost in the rhythm of his mouth and the filthy praise he whispers between kisses and loving everything he does and says.

When the first orgasm hits, it’s with an intensity that leaves me shaking and gasping his name.

“So beautiful when you come for me,” he says, kissing his way back up my body. “You make such pretty sounds. Daddy loves hearing how good he makes you feel.”

I’m still floating when he reaches for the nightstand drawer, and the sight of him rolling on a condom brings reality rushing back. This is happening. This is really happening.

“You still with me, baby?” he asks, settling over me. He looks bigger, broader, and more solid, and something about being caged beneath him makes me feel small and safe and precious.

“Yes,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Good girl.” He lines himself up, pressing just the tip inside. “Gonna go slow, baby. I'm gonna make sure this perfect little pussy takes every inch of Daddy’s cock before I knot you.”

The stretch is intense. I’ve never had sex with an Alpha, and his cock is so big. He keeps up a steady stream of praise as he works himself deeper.

“Taking...me…so…well…” he murmurs, punctuating each word with a gentle thrust. “Such a good girl, opening up for Daddy. Feels like you were made for my cock, baby girl. Made for me.”

When he’s finally seated fully inside me, we both go still. His eyes are on mine, making the connection between us overwhelming. It’s not just physical, but something deeper. Something that makes my chest tight and my eyes sting with unexpected emotion.

“Okay?” he asks, and I nod because I don’t trust my voice.

“Perfect,” he says, starting to move. “Absolutely perfect. Look how well you fit around me, baby girl. It’s like this sweet little cunt was designed just for Daddy’s cock.”

The dirty talk should embarrass me, but instead, it makes me clench around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, picking up the pace. “I love feeling you squeeze me like that. Such a responsive little thing. Daddy’s good girl knows exactly how to take care of him.”

I lose myself in the rhythm, in the feeling of being filled and cherished. When he slides a hand between us to rub my clit, I come apart with a cry that echoes off the windows. And he still hasn’t knotted me.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, his hips moving faster and faster.

“Knot me. Please knot me.”

“What a good fucking girl you are.” He pinches my nipple hard, but the bite of pain only intensifies my pleasure. “Now you need to come around my knot.”

I moan as my hips buck against his, my tits bouncing with every deep thrust.

My fingers slide through his dark strands as he lowers his head and scrapes his teeth over my shoulder. Slick gushes at the though of letting him claim me. He’s so gorgeous, so caring, that I could tilt my neck and let him take me and make me his. But I won’t. In reality, this is one night. I could never imagine someone like him would ever be mine.

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