Page 102 of With A Little Luck
She nods and moans around the thermometer as her core clenches. My knot pulses in response, and my dick jerks.
Shit.
I forgot about her clit.
I get back to work, circling it with firmer pressure and practicing grinding into her.
“That’s it,” Trigg coos. It sounds weird as shit coming from him, but I ignore him, focusing on Quincy. “Such a good little omega, letting your alphas take care of you.”
The thermometer beeps, and he plucks it free of her lips.
“What is it?” I growl, trying to stay clear.
“107.9,” Trigg murmurs. “That’s high, but not dangerous for an omega.”
“How about for the baby?” I choke out as her walls cling to my length.
Quincy’s pheromones are everywhere, and they’re fucking with my ability to think clearly. As is evidenced by the fact my brain won’t shut up about breeding her. That shit doesn’t even make sense, but precum spurts from my tip like my system is convinced we can get her more pregnant if we try hard enough.
Being an alpha is wild sometimes.
“I truly don’t know,” Trigg says, lying down facing Quincy. “I’ll do a little research after we verify if knotting is helping. I believe this has a higher chance of working faster than packing her up and taking her to a hospital.”
“You should knot me too,” Quincy says, slurring her words. “At least kiss me!”
“Such. A. Bossy. Little. Thing.” I punctuate each word with a thrust. Well, as much as I’m able to when we’re locked together.
Trigg chuckles. “That she is.”
He pushes his lips to hers, and I lean down, burying my nose in her throat.
The smile he had just before he kissed her says it all. He genuinely cares about her. At least as much as someone like him is capable of. And I’ve already seen how fond she is of him.
Growing up in a pack should have taught me that just because she cares for him, it won’t take away from our relationship. I guess I’m just a territorial asshole.
Fuck.
We need some bonds in place.
They’re supposed to help curb that alpha instinct to hoard her all to myself.
Thinking about bonding Quincy is dangerous. My canines ache, and my head gets even hazier as her perfume smacks into my senses. Her pussy strangles my cock, and I groan.
Pressure builds at the base of my spine, and within a blink, euphoria rips through my body. I jolt, holding on to her hip for dear life.
Fuck. I don’t know when I abandoned her clit, but I pull my head back to ensure I can’t bite while I’m foggy.
Quincy sobs against Trigg’s lips, working her hips back to force herself over my jerking cock. Every tiny movement produces an unreal amount of pleasure. Knotting is more addictive than I ever would have expected.
Chapter Thirty-One
Hartley
Quincy’s fever does lessen by a degree and a half with knotting, but it’s still higher than I would like.
Trigg forces her to drink something before we fall asleep, but it can’t have been longer than an hour when she wakes up again. Moaning, she grinds over my length until the sexy dream disappears and my consciousness catches up to reality.
This process happens several more times over the next few hours until my dick is done for. The next time I fall asleep, I pray she’s actually able to get some rest.
