Page 215 of Knot So Lucky
And when it snaps, it snaps for all of us at once.
My orgasm tears through me like a whiteout crash—total loss of control, every muscle locking up as I empty into her, hips jerking, cock pulsing so deep I can feel my own heartbeat inside her.
Luca comes at the same time—he slams all the way in, knot swelling and locking inside her, and moans so loud I think he might actually break. He wraps both arms around Aurora, lifting her off my lap just enough so he can piston into her in short, desperate thrusts.
Then he crushes her mouth with his—kiss so violent it’s practically a fight.
In that instant, her pussy milks his knot—squeezing, wringing, impossible to stop the chemical bond that sets in. The pleasure punches through all three of us, a feedback loop of need and satisfaction, as we ride out the storm together.
And Aurora—out of her fucking mind—bites down on Luca’s pec, right over his tattoo.
He yelps, then shudders, and the mark sinks deep—Omega claiming her Alpha, fang and blood and teeth. The scent of it is savage, a warning to any rival that she is now, and forever, off the market.
The high is so strong I can’t even move.
We’re fused—her in the middle, Luca knotted into her pussy, me still locked in her ass, both of us drained and ruined and so fucking pleased with ourselves it’s a wonder we don’t fall asleep on the spot.
The minute stretches out—ten, maybe twenty, maybe forever.
None of us want to break the connection.
None of us are capable of it.
She slumps backward, head on my shoulder, eyes closed, breathing in gasps. Luca holds her up, sweat streaming down his neck. I just cradle her hips, stroking her sides, letting the aftershocks run their course.
In this moment, there’s nothing else—no racing, no sabotage, no world outside the private space we’ve acquired for this heated moment.
Just the three of us, locked together, knowing this is what makes a pack.
When Luca’s knot finally begins to deflate, we move slow—not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to let go. I support her ass, help her slide off carefully, and cradle her while she shivers through the last of the tremors.
Her legs won’t work.
She’s jelly—wrecked, spent, high on pride and exhaustion.
But she’s smiling, soft and smug, like she just broke history and knows it.
So am I.
We sit there, not moving, just breathing each other’s air, until the world finally crawls back in and demands we face it again.
But right now? We’re perfect.
Unbreakable.
The fire alarm suddenly blares, shrill and insistent, cutting through the haze.
Luca and I frown, exchanging a glance, but we move fast, instincts kicking in to protect her. We help her back into her dress, fingers fumbling but efficient, then I hoist her onto my back in a piggyback, draping my coat over her shoulders while Luca wraps his around her waist to cover her ass in this position.
We slip out the side entrance, Luca already on his phone calling for a car that's waiting by the time we emerge.
No one notices us at first, the chaos of the alarm covering our exit, but as Luca's about to slide in after us, people start recognizing him.
"Hey, is that Luca Thorne?" someone shouts, and another asks, "Was he with Cale Hart?" I smirk from inside the car, knowing the speculation will explode—two Alphas coming from a back alley without their Omega in sight?
The possibilities make me grin wider.
More gossip for the media; it'll only add to the mystery.
