Page 61 of Knot Going Down

I press my hips up, wrapping my arms around him like I’m a boa constrictor, using the leverage to push against him.

“Please,” I beg.

“Not yet,” he repeats, nipping at my lip. “Not until you come again.”

His thumb takes over, rubbing my clit in strokes and circles driving me to fist the pillows as that delicious heat burns. Cock positioned at my entrance, he teases me in tiny shallow strokes. Just the tip. Just a taunt as his fingers pinch and rub and goad me to oblivion.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” His words are husky, drunk on this as much as I am. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

It’s barely a whisper, but it sets off a chain reaction that ends in a bang. While the tremors of my orgasm shake through me, he pushes inside in one smooth stroke, stretching me fully.

Declan stays still for a long breath, letting me feel the weight of him. His lips ghost along my jaw as he begins to move, slow and controlled, every stroke sending little aftershocks through my already sensitive body.

“Okay?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I breathe, and it’s not just okay. It’severything.

He shifts his angle, grinding his hips so his pelvis presses against my clit, the base of his knot brushing there on every pass. My breath catches.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder, my collarbone, the corner of my mouth.

My legs tighten around him instinctively. His hand slides beneath my lower back, cradling me, his other tangling with mine above the pillow. Each movement is measured, deliberate. Like he’s trying to memorize how I feel from the inside out.

Then I hear it.

The quiet creak of the stairs.

Declan must hear it too, because his eyes flick away from my face, but he doesn’t stop. I turn my head and find Lucas staring at us.

His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are heavy-lidded, locked on where Declan’s body moves against mine. There’s nothing crude about his gaze—it’s admiring. Devouring.

“Such a pretty picture.” Lucas’s words are a throaty purr.

Declan leans down, his mouth brushing my ear. “Do you want him to stay?”

My body tenses, surprised by the question. But when I glance back toward Lucas, something inside me ignites. Not embarrassment. Not shame.Curiosity.A little thrill.

A big thrill.

“I don’t mind,” I answer, making sure Lucas can hear.

Declan hums, the sound low and pleased. “Good girl.”

Lucas steps farther into the room, slow and careful, like he’s moving through a dream. He stops at the chair in the corner where Declan folded his shirt. Sitting, he drapes one arm over the side and watches.

Declan thrusts a little deeper, a little slower, the rhythm shifting to something darker and more intense. My body tightens again.

“Eyes on me,” Declan says softly, tipping my chin. “He can look all he wants. But you’re mine right now.”

The possessiveness in his voice doesn’t scare me. It grounds me.

I nod, lips parted. “I’m yours.”

He kisses me again, deeper now, lazy strokes while his hips roll in perfect rhythm. I feel everything. His warmth, his control, the pressure building again deep in my belly.

Lucas exhales quietly, and I catch the movement of his hand in his lap. He’s not being subtle. He doesn’t have to be.

My skin prickles from being watched. It’s exhilarating. Declan doesn’t speed up, doesn’t falter. If anything, he becomes more deliberate, showing off the way he wrings every sound from me, every little gasp and moan and whispered plea.