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In a blink, he’s on me, mouth hot and desperate against mine, kissing me like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His hands are everywhere – cupping my jaw, sliding into my hair, gripping my hips like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

But I don’t want space. I want more.

“I need to feel you,” I whisper against his mouth, rocking my hips forward. “Touch me. Please, Alpha. I can’t— I can’t think.”

His breath shudders out, and then he’s lifting me, carrying me back into the nest like I weigh nothing. He lays me down carefully, reverently, but the moment I’m flat, I grab at him – his shirt, his belt, anything to get him naked and on top of me.

“You’re insatiable,” he groans, helping me tug his clothes off. “Look at you, little omega. So wet for me already.”

“More,” I whimper. “Need more. Please.”

He pushes my thighs apart, eyes locked on my slick-soaked folds. His mouth goes slack with hunger. “Fuck, baby. You’re dripping.”

“Yours,” I pant. “Please, alpha – need you to make it better.”

He leans in close, voice hot against my ear. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, Evie. Gonna have you moaning my name, begging for my knot.”

And then his mouth is on me.

His tongue slides through my folds like he’s starving for me, groaning deep in his chest like I’m the only thing that’s ever tasted good. He licks and sucks with slow, devastating intent, dragging the flat of his tongue over my clit before circling it in tight, teasing patterns.

“Oh— Fuck,” I gasp, hands flying to his hair, threading into the messy strands and tugging hard when he sucks just right.

“That’s it,” Blaise murmurs against me. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Don’t hold back. I want to feel every bit of it.”

I cry out as he does it again, pressure perfect, tongue relentless. My thighs shake, threatening to clamp around his head, but he grabs my hips and holds me still like I weigh nothing. I’m trembling, slick coating the insides of my thighs, the sheets, his chin.

He laps it up like he’s addicted.

“Taste so good,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Like you were made for me.”

My omega preens at the praise, scenting the air thick and heady. I moan and grind my hips against his mouth, greedy for every flick and suck.

“Touch me,” I whisper, then louder. “Touch me, Blaise.”

He groans, hand slipping between my thighs, spreading me open. His thumb circles my clit and I buck into his touch with a desperate sob.

“Need more,” I pant, desperate. “Need something inside me. Please, Blaise, I need?—”

He doesn’t make me wait. One thick finger slides into me slowly, stretching me open inch by inch.

“That’s it, omega. Take what you need. You don’t have to be shy with me.”

Then he presses two fingers into me, slow and deliberate, and I clench around them, needy and hot and trembling.

I toss my head back, moaning like I’ve lost all sense of control. Maybe I have. It’s like something’s cracked open inside me, letting all the craving and longing pour out at once.

He curls his fingers and hits something inside me that makes me see stars.

“Oh god— There, yes, Blaise, please?—”

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hisses, and the way he sounds – half in awe, half undone – makes heat crash through me like a wave.

I arch off the nest, chasing the pressure as he adds another finger, curling them just right, dragging against that perfect spot.

“That’s it, love,” he whispers. “Let me work you open. Want you ready for my cock. Gonna fill you so good, stretch you ‘til you can’t take anything else.”

“Please,” I beg again, writhing under him. “Please, I need it. I need you now?—”