Page 89 of The Knotheads Next Door
"Yes," I say without hesitation. "Please, I need—"
"Need what?"
"Need you to knot me. Please."
The words seem to break the last of his restraint. His next thrust is harder, deeper, his knot pressing more insistently against me.
"Bear down slightly when I push in," he instructs, his voice steady despite his obvious arousal. "It will help with the stretch."
I follow his guidance, and then his knot is pushing inside, the stretch burning momentarily before giving way to the most intense fullness I've ever experienced. It's overwhelming, perfect, exactly what my body has been screaming for.
The sensation of being completely claimed, completely filled, triggers my release instantly. My body clenches around him as waves of pleasure crash over me, more intense than anything I've ever felt. Dimly, I hear myself crying out, my back arching off the bed as the orgasm seems to go on forever.
Theo follows immediately, groaning as his own climax hits, his knot locking us together as he spills inside me. The warmth, the fullness, the complete connection—it's perfect.
The relief is immediate and profound—that burning, desperate need receding to something manageable. My mind clears enough that I become aware of my surroundings again, of Jasper and Wells positioned nearby, their scents thick with arousal and barely-contained restraint.
"Better?" Theo asks softly, pressing gentle kisses to my face.
"Better," I confirm, though I can already feel the heat building again. This is just the beginning.
While Theo's knot keeps us joined, the others attend to my other needs—Jasper bringing water, helping me drink without moving, while Wells wipes my face and neck with a cool cloth. The tender care, in some ways, is more overwhelming than the sex itself—this evidence that they're thinking of me, of my comfort, even in the midst of their own obvious desire.
After Theo's knot recedes, there's a brief respite—perhaps an hour where I doze lightly, my body temporarily satisfied. But all too soon, the heat resurges, my temperature spiking again, need coiling tight in my belly.
The heat crashes over me in relentless waves that leave me gasping and desperate. Theo's careful claiming has only temporarily eased the burning need, and now it's back with a vengeance, my body demanding more.
"Please," I whimper, reaching blindly for whoever will take me next. "I need—"
This time, it's Jasper who responds to my plea. He moves across the nest with predatory grace, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that steals my breath. There's no hesitation in his approach, no careful consideration. He knows what he wants, and he's done pretending otherwise.
"My turn," he says, and his voice carries a rough edge that makes heat pool low in my belly.
His approach is entirely different from Theo's careful tenderness. This isn't gentle exploration. This is pure, unfiltered claiming—alpha dominance at its most basic level.
He doesn't ask permission or ease me into his touch. Instead, he pulls me against him with barely contained strength, one hand fisting in my hair while the other spans my lower back, pressing me flush against his chest. The contrast between his control and his obvious need is intoxicating.
"I've been watching," he growls against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. "Watching Theo take care of you. But you need more, don't you?"
The words send a shiver through me that has nothing to do with cold and everything to do with omega recognition. Yes, this is what I've been craving—this raw want, this desperate need that matches my own.
"Yes," I gasp, my hands fisting in his shirt. "Jasper, please—"
His mouth crashes against mine before I can finish the plea, hot and demanding. This is claiming, pure and simple. His tongue sweeps into my mouth with confident strokes, taking everything I'm willing to give and demanding more.
I respond with equal desperation, biting at his lower lip, pulling him closer until there's no space between us. The kiss is messy and urgent, all teeth and tongue and barely controlled need.
"Fuck," he breathes against my mouth when we finally break apart. "The way you taste—"
His hands are everywhere then, grasping with possessive intent, mapping my body with rough reverence. Where Theo's touches were careful and exploratory, Jasper's are claiming. He knows what he wants and he takes it, his palms sliding over heated skin with confident strokes.
"Mine," he growls against my throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin there. The possessive word sends electricity straight through me, making my back arch and a desperate sound spill from my lips. "Ours."
The correction is important—not just his, but theirs. All of theirs. The possessive language should probably concern me, but instead it makes everything inside me sing with satisfaction. Yes, theirs. That's exactly what I want to be.
His mouth works down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he finds that spot where my neck meets myshoulder—the spot that would be perfect for a claiming bite—he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. The sensation makes me cry out, my omega biology responding with a surge of slick that has him groaning against my skin.
"Christ, the scent of you," he mutters, breathing deep. "Driving me fucking crazy."
