Page 61 of Knotting Hill
“Fuck, yes,” I purr as I melt into him, my body and soul now one with his.
“Storm,” he growls, grabbing my hips as I ride him slowly. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
I steady myself with my hands on his rock-hard chest, arching my back as the pleasure courses through me, sending wave after wave of ecstasy straight to my pussy. I climax quickly, drenching his cock with my slick. He inhales deeply, a low rumble rising out of his chest as he lifts me up slightly and holds me in place so he can thrust deep into me as I ride the thrill of my orgasm intensely.
He doesn’t last much longer.
He thrusts high and then grunts loudly, releasing his seed into me.
I didn’t have to think too hard about him wearing a condom. I accept that he has always been safe, and so have I. But this is different. I needed to feel him inside me bareback. I wanted to feel every millimetre of him. I know he’s thinking the same, panting through his climax.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” he says cautiously, almost as if he speaks too loudly, the moment will shatter.
“I haven’t either,” I admit, leaning forward to place my head over his heart.
“Fate,” he murmurs, tangling his fingers into my hair.
“Mmm.”
I sigh and then sit up. “I should get showered and changed so we can get back to the hospital.”
He nods, disappointed, but he knows I’m right. “When you’re ready, we’ll swing by ours, and I can do the same.”
I nod and climb off the bed to hastily shower and get dressed into a pair of black joggers, a white tee, a black hoodie and my pink trainers. Nice and comfy for sitting around in.
Re-dressed himself, he grins and takes my hand, kissing my knuckles before we head back down to the Jag to drive to his house.
It takes minutes at this time of night, and soon, we are pulling up outside a huge and fancy townhouse that must’ve costan arm and a leg. Play the markets, indeed. He must be jolly good at his little hobby.
“Nice,” I murmur as he leads me up to the massive black front door. He pushes it open to reveal a beautiful entrance hall that is similar to my parents’. White marble floors, chandeliers, antique furniture and a grandiose staircase with a mahogany rail leading to the upstairs.
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Kitchen is through there if you’re hungry.”
I nod and take a step forward, only to come to a halt as a man pushes his way through the kitchen door.
“Ah, JP,” he says.
I can see in the dim light that he is middle-aged, very well-dressed and posh. He has the same colouring as JP, so I assume it’s his father.
“Dad,” JP says warily. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” he says. “The housekeeper let me in. I was dissatisfied with our conversation the other day. I wanted to pursue it a bit further, but it appears you have bought the omega in question directly to me.”
His shrewd blue eyes land on me with intense interest. I shift uncomfortably as he steps forward and reaches out for my hand.
He grazes my knuckles with his lips before he releases my hand a few seconds later than I’m comfortable with.
“Cherries,” he murmurs. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Dad, this is Storm Rivers. Storm, this is my father, Christopher St. Luc.”
“Storm. What a beautiful name for a beautiful omega.”
I’m starting to feel a bit creeped out. I think JP realises how uncomfortable this is for me because he moves in a bit closer, putting his arm around me.
“So,” Christopher says, his eyes never leaving me. “You are the one who tamed my son.”
I press my lips together, not sure how to answer that.
