Page 139 of Knotting the Firefighters
She doesn't pull away.
Instead, she intensifies, taking me deeper, her hand working what her mouth can't reach, twisting with perfect pressure. Stars explode behind my eyelids as climax hits, shattering through me like a dam bursting. I spill into her mouth with a muffled roar, hips jerking as ecstasy pulses in hot waves, draining every ounce of tension from my body.
Wendolyn swallows greedily, not spilling a drop, her eyes never leaving mine, that triumphant gleam making my spent cock twitch one last time.
There's a victorious glint in her eyes that sends a last, useless tremor through my spent cock. Then her fingers slide along my length, slow and knowing, until she reaches my knot. She works it with careful pressure, massaging until the stubborn tightness starts to ease. It's almost too much relief—a riptide of sensation that catches me off guard and has a guttural sound caught in my throat.
Thank fuck for an Omega who knows exactly how to handle knots.
Most of the time, biology works against me; every cell screaming to get locked deep inside her, mind and body hooked on that ancient urge to mate. The ache doesn't go away—it just gnaws, relentless, until it wins.
And I can't have that. Not yet at least…
But now, getting a taste of Wendolyn's mouth, that fearless look in her eyes, I want nothing more than to slam her down and sink into her, knot and all. If this is how bold she is now, then when the time finally comes to fuck her, nothing will hold me back.
I help her to her feet, drawing her into my arms for a kiss that's softer now, gratitude woven into every brush of lips.
“Guess we need to approve the clothes you picked.” She tips her head, lips still slick with the last taste of challenge; there’s a wicked little light in her eye as she lingers on the edge of this game, only relenting when she exhales a short, amused huff. “Fine—but only if you help me make sure they actually flatter me.”
“Deal.”
The word falls between them, plain as a hand clasped in promise.
We emerge from the changing room eventually, both flushed and composed, the stack of approved clothing in hand. The attendant returns just as we're at the register, her knowing smile suggesting she suspects more than flower-watering occurred in her absence. Wendolyn pays with a card that Aidric had slipped her earlier—a pack expense, he'd insisted, no argument brooked—and we step into the crisp October air, bags swinging from my grasp.
The others wait outside, their earlier tension apparently diffused by whatever distractions they'd found.
Aidric leans against the truck, arms crossed, his storm-gray eyes narrowing as he takes in our heated cheeks and rumpled appearances.
"Took long enough," he grumbles, though curiosity laces his tone.
Calder smirks, amber gaze flicking between us.
"Productive fitting session?"
Silas, ever the observer, merely raises an eyebrow, his honey-eucalyptus scent calm amid the undercurrents.
Wendolyn brushes it off with a laugh, light and deflecting.
"Bear's opinions were... thorough." She shoots me a private glance, laden with shared secrets, and I can't help the grin that splits my face.
We pile back into the truck, the drive to the next stop filled with lighter banter, the earlier chaos giving way to tentative harmony.
But beneath it all, the bond hums, a living thread connecting us, amplified by what transpired in that room.
I steal glances at her in the passenger seat, her new outfits peeking from bags, a symbol of renewal she's embracing.
He wonders if the others can feel what just occurred, now that he thinks about it, but he can’t help but smirk at the thought of them knowing what he started.
This could simply ignite movement to claim what I’m starting to realize could be ours… permanently.
VINTAGE DISCOVERIES AND BAKING ADVENTURES
~WENDOLYN~
The afternoon sun bathes Main Street in golden light, transforming the adjacent town's commercial district into something approaching picturesque.
Small shops line both sides—locally owned establishments with hand-painted signs, window displays that change seasonally, and the particular charm of businesses that have served their communities for generations.
