Page 26 of Knot All is Crystal
It’s hard to describe.
What else is hard? The massive fucking cock that is wedged against my lower back as he presses me into the wall. His plush lips brush over my ear.
“You weren’t asking for me, Queenie. You were asking for a knot. I can’t give you that.”
He ghosts his lips across the curve of my neck. The warmth of his breath causes my skin to pebble as a shiver wracks through my body. My breaths are coming out in little pants, and a soft whine builds in the back of my throat.
I’ve never had this kind of reaction to Puck before.
I don’t think he’s reacted like this to me, either.
But as I start to arch my back to rub against him like a cat, he pushes off the wall, grumbles, “When you’re ready to ask for me when you’re not out of your mind, then we can talk,” and stomps off, nearly ripping the door to the stairs off the hinges.
“Okay, cool, good chat, Puck,” I mutter, stalking behind him.
We end up on the second VIP level, where a bachelor party is just getting started. A selection of Betas from the pleasure dens are here, draped across the men’s laps.
I can’t tell which one is the groom, which is too gross for words. It should be clear which one is in a committed relationship. It doesn’t matter that these guys have so much money that they can rent out a VIP floor.
They’re still trash.
“Is this the Queen?” one of the guys slurs, pushing to his feet. “You have the party favors?”
“I can get you a glass of bubbly if you like,” I offer sweetly.
Being a high-end drug dealer is weird.
I can’t just straight up come out and say, “Hey, want some illegal drugs that’ll make you want to rut anything that stays still long enough?” You never know who might be undercover looking to trap you.
Instead, I have to play coy and speak in riddles that give me plausible deniability.
“A whole bottle, if you can spare it,” the man says to my tits. “You can join us.”
“Ah, the Queen does not deign to associate with the peasants,” I say with a fake little laugh. I cross to Red, the bartender working the room, with Puck tight on my heels.
Tonight, the drugs are stored in a pouch that Puck is carrying. Whenever I’m mobile, whoever is guarding me holds onto them to reduce the likelihood of someone trying to jump me.
Not that it hasn’t happened before, regardless.
After we get the bachelor party set up for a night of debauchery, Puck leads me out of the room and to the suite on the other side of the club.
“You’ve got another audience requested,” he says lazily. “Some DJ. He was on TV or something.”
“Okay, cool,” I say, reaching into my bustier and pulling my tits up a little. Puck raises an eyebrow, and I shrug. “We all know why Kieran picks outfits like this out for me.”
The Beta pushes open the door and steps in first, placing himself between me and the man sprawled out on the leather sofa.
My heart catches in my throat.
Maverick stretches his long arms out on either side of the couch, his eyes flashing mischievously. Without the haze of the drugs, I can appreciate his lithe build—so rare for an Alpha—and his crooked smile.
“There she is,” Maverick says in a smooth purr. “My Omega.”
Puck immediately steps in front of me entirely. “What the fuck did you say?” His voice is nearly a growl, which is an impressive feat for a Beta.
“Queenie is my Omega. My scent match. I’m her Alpha.” His voice is full of pride, and his chest is puffed up.
My Alpha.
