Page 30 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)

CRASH TEST

~ L ACHLAN~

The world narrows to a tunnel: my hands on her hips, the slick, molten heat of her pussy hugging every inch of me, the sound of her breathing as it rises from cocky to desperate with every stroke.

I want to say I’m in control —hell, I try to believe it —but I’ve been on the edge since the first time I smelled her, since the moment she said my name with that voice that cuts through logic and restraint like a saw blade through flesh.

She pulls me in with a single look, and then she’s all over me—legs wrapping around my waist, heels digging into my ass as if she’s going to ride me right through the stone countertop and into the foundation beneath.

The first slide into her is always a revelation, but tonight it’s a fucking religious experience.

She’s so wet, so tight, so ready for me that it takes everything I have not to lose it right there on the spot.

Auren moans, low and rough, and bites my shoulder hard enough to break skin. The sting just makes me harder. She arches her back, hands fisting in my shirt, and brings her face so close to mine I can see my own madness reflected in her eyes.

“Missed this,” she pants, hips bucking up to meet every thrust. “Missed you. Missed how you ruin me every fucking time.”

She has to be speaking more out of instinct than reality, especially when I’m sure she doesn’t truly remember me, but with how balls deep I am, I can’t care if I’m a figment of her imagination right now.

I want to tell her I feel the same, that she’s my own personal brand of insanity and nothing else ever comes close, but the words jam up behind my teeth.

Instead, I take it out on her body—pulling her closer, grinding my cock so deep inside her she screams, not caring who hears us or whether the neighbors two kilometers away can feel the tremors of what we’re doing on this island.

She’s wearing my jersey, and it’s bunched up under her tits, exposing the lines of her abs, the wild streaks of color in her hair, the flush on her skin that only gets brighter the more I fuck her.

I lift one leg and plant her foot on my shoulder, opening her up even more, and the angle drives us both insane.

She claws at my neck, nails dragging little crescents down my back, and between each gasp, she’s muttering filth in my ear.

“Harder. Don’t stop. Show me why you’re the best.”

The praise is a weapon; it always was .

She knows it drives me — or maybe’s taking the risk knowing my brother is no different i this department — and I know she’s playing me, but I want to be played by her until the end of the goddamn world.

I brace a hand on the counter behind her head and start pounding her harder, setting a rhythm that’s brutal and relentless, feeling her clamp down and pulse around me as she climbs toward another orgasm.

She’s always been greedy for them—never satisfied with one, always dragging me along for the ride as she shatters again and again.

She hits her peak and screams, nails raking my shoulders, pussy spasming so hard I nearly see stars. I lean in and bite the curve of her jaw, licking the sweat from her skin, then crush my mouth to hers in a kiss that’s more teeth than tongue.

She breaks it with a laugh, wild and victorious.

“Is that all you’ve got, Alpha? You gonna let me break you this easy?”

I growl, actually growl, and flip her over with a single motion.

She lands on her stomach, ass in the air, legs spread, the back of my jersey riding so high it’s basically a belt now.

Her hair is everywhere, a dark waterfall with flashes of pink and violet that catch the light as she turns her head to smirk at me over her shoulder.

“I dare you to fuck me through this island, Wolfe,” she says, and the challenge is so raw I feel it in my bones.

I line up behind her and ram in, no warning, no mercy.

The slap of our bodies together echoes off the stone, off the windows, off the damn mountains outside. She goes up on her elbows and braces herself, digging in like a sprinter at the starting line, meeting every thrust with equal force.

Her cunt is a vice around me—she’s never been tighter, never been wetter, and I realize with a jolt of pride that she’s soaking the marble beneath us, that there’s a puddle forming between her thighs that drips down to the floor.

It’s obscene. It’s perfect. It’s mine.

“Fuck, Auren,” I grit out, and I mean it on every level. “You’re going to kill me.”

She looks back, pupils blown, lips swollen and curved in a feral grin.

“Maybe I want to.”

She flexes her muscles on the next thrust, milking my cock in a way that sends lightning through my whole nervous system. It’s like she knows every button, every weak spot, and she’s using them all to reduce me to an animal.

I switch it up—pull her off the counter and bend her over so she’s standing, legs trembling, hands flat on the cold marble. Her skin is flushed, her breath fogging up the polished surface, and when I reach around to rub her clit, she damn near collapses.

“Don’t you dare,” she says, voice shaking, “don’t you fucking dare let up?—”

I don’t.

I hammer into her, relentless, and she shatters again, this time so hard her knees actually give out. I catch her with one arm around her waist, pinning her upright, and fuck her through the aftershocks until she’s sobbing my name.

“Holy shit, Wolfe,” she moans, “you’re such a fucking menace.”

I rest my chin on her shoulder, still moving inside her, and whisper, “You like being ruined, don’t you?”

She laughs through tears.

“If it’s you, yeah. Only you .”

Something about that phrase, the only you, hits me with a force I’m not ready for. I’m so full of her— her scent, her sweat, her voice —that it almost hurts.

,I want to stay here, locked together, forever.

I’m so lost in her that I barely register the scent of smoke in the air. At first I think it’s just the haze of sex, the way our bodies are overheating and turning the whole kitchen into a sauna, but then my brain kicks in and reminds me: oven. Bread. Something’s burning.

But I’m so close, so goddamn close to losing it, and she’s still pulsing around me, still milking every last drop of pleasure she can wring from my body.

I don’t want to stop; I can’t. Not now.

I fuck her through it, the smoke alarm a distant threat, my world reduced to the woman in front of me and the desperate need to mark her, claim her, remind her body of what it means to be mine.

The rhythm builds, faster, harder, until I’m slamming into her with everything I have. Her cries go from defiant to pleading, her body trembling with the force of another orgasm as I chase my own.

I can’t hold back any longer.

The wave crashes over me, ripping through my spine, my cock, my soul. I roar her name and come so hard I see white, my hands crushing her hips as I empty everything inside her.

For a moment, the world goes still.

All I can hear is our ragged breathing, the drum of my pulse in my ears, the distant whine of the smoke alarm as the burning bread finally becomes impossible to ignore.

I pull out, watching her collapse onto the cool marble, sweat and cum and slick smeared everywhere. I look at her and know, with a certainty that’s as final as a death sentence, that I will never be able to let her go. Not again.

She rolls onto her back, legs still trembling, and looks up at me with a smile so smug I want to either slap it or kiss it off her face.

“You really can’t cook for shit, can you?” she says, gesturing weakly at the smoke billowing from the oven.

I laugh, breathless and spent, and lean down to kiss her.

“I make up for it in other ways.”

She pulls me down on top of her, wraps her arms around my neck, and whispers in my ear, “Prove it. Next round. Upstairs. Bet you can’t make me scream louder than that fire alarm.”

I grin, already hardening again at the thought.

She’s a fucking maniac, and I love her for it.

But first, I have to deal with the burning bread. I sigh, pull on my boxers, and head for the oven, knowing full well that this kitchen is a disaster area and the only thing I care about is the woman lying on my counter, making me want to burn the whole world down just to keep her.

The smell of smoke is everywhere, but all I can taste is her.

All I can think about is how I’ll never let anyone or anything take her from me again.

N ot even the fire.

I’m still trembling, every muscle in my body locked in the aftershocks, when my cock starts swelling for the knot.

Even now, with logic and panic fighting for attention, my body is nothing but ancient instincts: knot her, keep her, make sure nothing else in the universe can pull you apart.

It’s both a blessing and a curse that my brain still works just enough to remember this is not the time, that if I stay buried in her another second I’ll never fucking pull out, and then the next thing we know there’s a scandal and a ruined reputation and a headline the tabloids will never let die.

So I do the unthinkable.

I rip out just as my knot’s about to lock. The pain is blinding. My vision whites out, my legs nearly buckle, and I let out a sound so raw and desperate I don’t even know if it’s human.

Auren, goddess that she is, doesn’t miss a beat.

Even with her legs still shaking and her face pressed to the stone, she’s reaching behind her, finding the base of my cock by touch and cradling my knot in both hands like it’s something sacred.

She squeezes, twists, massages, working her fingers in a practiced, perfect rhythm that only comes from years of knowing exactly how to handle me when I’m like this.

My body floods with gratitude and grief at the same time— because I never want her to stop, and because I know that nothing else, nothing else in the world, will ever do.

She jerks her head up, hair wild and eyes electric, and grins at me over her shoulder.

“Didn’t think you had the discipline to pull out, Alpha. Proud of you.”

I can barely stand, but the joke nearly kills me.