Page 91 of The Knotheads Next Door
And I do, my body yielding completely as his knot pushes inside with a pressure that makes me see stars. The stretch isincredible, overwhelming, perfect—like being split apart and put back together in the best possible way.
The sensation of his knot locking inside me triggers my release instantly. My body clenches around him as the orgasm crashes over me. I'm dimly aware that I'm screaming, my voice breaking on his name as wave after wave of pleasure tears through me.
Jasper follows immediately, his own climax hitting as my body locks around his knot. He groans against my neck, the sound vibrating through me as he spills inside me, hot and perfect and claiming.
We stay like that for long moments, both of us shaking with the aftermath. His knot keeps us locked together, and every small movement sends aftershocks of pleasure through my oversensitized body.
"Fuck," he breathes eventually, his face buried in my neck. "That was—"
"Incredible," I finish, my voice barely a whisper.
He lifts his head to look at me, and there's something vulnerable in his expression now, something that wasn't there before. "Are you okay? Was it too much?"
The concern in his voice, the way he's immediately checking on me despite his own obvious satisfaction, makes my chest tight with emotion.
"It was perfect," I assure him, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. "You were perfect."
The relief in his expression is telling. For all his dominant confidence, he was worried about overwhelming me, about being too rough.
When his knot finally starts to soften, he carries me back to the nest while still inside me, the movement careful. Every step sends small tremors of sensation through my body, keeping me on the edge of oversensitivity.
The nest is warm and soft, and Theo is there immediately when Jasper carefully withdraws and settles me among the pillows.
"How are you feeling?" Theo asks, his voice gentle as he checks me over with thoroughness. His hands are cool against my heated skin as he wipes sweat from my brow, offers water from a bottle that appears as if by magic.
"Good," I manage, though 'good' seems inadequate for the bone-deep satisfaction currently flooding my system. "Really good."
Wells is there too, positioned at the edge of the nest, and when I meet his eyes, the hunger there is unmistakable. His usual composure is slipping further with each passing hour, each encounter he witnesses but doesn't participate in.
"Your turn next?" I ask, and the words come out rougher than intended.
His eyes darken further. "Only if you want it to be."
The careful consideration even in his obvious need makes something warm unfurl in my chest. These alphas, for all their dominant claiming, are still putting my consent first.
"I want," I confirm, already feeling the heat building again. "I want all of you."
The pattern continues through that first day and into the night—waves of heat that leave me desperate and aching, alphas taking turns satisfying the biological imperative driving us all. But between these intense encounters, they care for me with surprising tenderness.
Theo monitors my hydration and nutrition. Jasper builds me a more comfortable nest arrangement without being asked. Wells keeps track of timing and recovery periods .
They make sure I eat, even when food is the last thing on my mind. They bring me water and electrolyte drinks. They taketurns holding me during the brief periods when the heat recedes enough for rest.
It's more than I expected, more than just physical satisfaction. It's care, attention, protection. It's being cherished even in the midst of biological chaos.
And with each cycle, each claiming, the bond between us grows stronger. What started as heat-driven necessity is becoming something deeper, something that has nothing to do with biology and everything to do with the way they look at me, the way they hold me, the way they make me feel like I'm exactly where I belong.
Even if I'm not ready to admit what that means yet.
By the time my heat spikes again near dawn, the pattern has been established. Theo with his gentle care, Jasper with his primal claiming—and now it's Wells' turn. I can feel his eyes on me as the need builds, that careful, assessing gaze that seems to catalog every tremor, every flush of heat across my skin.
He's been watching. Learning. Planning.
The realization should probably concern me, but instead it sends a thrill of anticipation through my heat-addled brain. Wells applies the same methodical approach to everything in his life—why would this be any different?
"Wells," I breathe, reaching for him as the burning need becomes unbearable again. "Please, I need—"
"I know exactly what you need," he says, moving toward me with purpose. His voice carries that same tone he uses when he’s working —calm, controlled, absolutely certain of his authority.
