Page 60 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)

The car lurches forward, finally breaking free of the jam, and the sudden acceleration pushes us together even tighter. I laugh, the sound raw and elated, and brace myself with my hands on his shoulders as the driver weaves through the city streets with a little too much enthusiasm.

He holds me steady, hands gripping my thighs, and there’s something perfect about the way we fit together—like we were built for this, for each other, for the madness and the speed and the utter lack of restraint.

Outside, the world blurs by in streaks of color and light, but in here, in this private, precious, fucked-up little world we’ve carved out, everything is exactly as it should be.

I press my forehead to his, our noses bumping, and we just exist for a while, breathing the same air, skin fused together by sweat and want and something that tastes a lot like hope.

“Race you home?” I whisper.

He laughs, low and wicked. “You’re on.”

And as the car rockets through the city, I know in my bones that no matter what the world throws at us—hatred, pressure, pain—we’ll always find a way back here.

Locked together, unstoppable, and free.

# Scene 2 - from Auren Vale's point of view

We don’t even make it to the next stoplight before he’s hard again.

I barely have to move—just the subtle squeeze and flex of my thighs, a little shift in the angle of my hips—and I can feel him thickening inside me, the blood rush making him pulse with every heartbeat.

My own blood’s not exactly behaving either.

I’m hot and tight and embarrassingly ready for round two, despite the fact that we just shattered the speed record for car sex in the middle of Barcelona’s city center.

The car swings around a corner, getting onto the freeway, and I take the opportunity to really set the pace.

With every slight acceleration, every change in speed, the movement shoves me down further on his cock, and the friction is so intense it makes my head spin.

I brace my hands on his chest, using him for leverage, and ride him slow and deep, every movement calculated for maximum pressure.

He lets me take the lead. Or maybe he just wants to see what I’ll do when I’m in control.

Either way, he’s watching me with that lazy, hungry look that should come with a warning label.

I can see every microexpression: the flex of his jaw when I clench around him, the narrowing of his eyes when I twist my hips, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips when I arch my back and bare my throat.

Outside, the world is nothing but a blur of headlights and shadow. Inside, it’s like a private auditorium for two, the low hum of the engine and the leather creaking under us just more instruments in the symphony of us.

He reaches up, hands cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of the dress, then—never breaking eye contact—he tugs the top down until I’m spilling out for him, nipples hard and aching.

The chill of the air is nothing compared to the heat of his mouth when he leans in, lips closing over one nipple and sucking slow and deep, like he wants to taste every ounce of me.

I make a sound—I think it’s a moan, but it could just as easily be a sob—and grind down harder, desperate to feel all of him. He switches to the other breast, licking a hot, wet path across my skin, then bites just hard enough to make me gasp.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice almost reverent. “God, I fucking love you like this.”

The words make my stomach flip, and something in my chest goes molten. I ride him harder, chasing the edge, and he responds by digging his fingers into my ass, using his strength to control the thrusts from below.

“Come for me,” he says, tone gone from teasing to raw, almost pleading. “I want to feel you lose it, Auren. I want you to show me how much you need me.”

I’m so close it’s stupid. My thighs are shaking, vision going white at the edges, every nerve ending dialed to eleven. I bite my own wrist to keep from screaming, but even so, the sound that rips out of me is louder than I intended.

He’s right there with me, pushing up into me with hard, deep thrusts, sweat breaking on his brow as he chases his own release.

We come together, both of us shaking, the intensity so strong it feels like an out-of-body experience.

I collapse forward, hands braced on his shoulders, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me as our breathing syncs back up.

For a minute, neither of us speaks. We just stay like that, locked together, sharing the kind of silence that only comes after something cataclysmic.

Then, slowly, I feel the swelling at the base of his cock—the signature Alpha knotting that every Omega in the world is warned about but secretly craves. It’s not supposed to happen unless you’re in heat, but I guess our bodies didn’t get the memo.

He starts to pull out, like he’s trying to spare me the awkwardness, but I grab the back of his neck and make him look at me.

“Don’t even think about it,” I say, voice hoarse. “You know what I want.”

He hesitates, searching my eyes for something—permission, forgiveness, maybe just a sign that I’m not going to break again.

“You really want this?” he asks, like the answer isn’t already written in every line of my body.

“Fuck yeah,” I say. “And if I regret it later, you’d better prove why fate brought us back together a second time.”

He laughs—a broken, awestruck sound—then crushes our mouths together in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and desperate hope. The knot slides in, thick and stretching, and the pain-pleasure of it hits me so hard I black out for a second, clutching him as my body goes liquid.

He holds still, letting me adjust, but the look on his face is pure triumph. “You’re mine now,” he whispers, words so soft they barely make it past our lips.

“Yours,” I agree, and in that moment, I mean it.

The world shrinks down to the tight, aching connection where we’re fused together, the heat of his cock filling me to the brim, the pulse of his heartbeat echoing in my core.

I come again, softer this time, waves of pleasure rolling over me in slow motion as he groans and buries his face in my hair.

He bites down on the curve of my neck, marking me in the way only an Alpha can, and the sensation is so perfect I almost sob. It’s like déjà vu—like I’ve lived this moment before, only now it’s more, bigger, brighter, burned into my memory forever.

We ride out the aftershocks together, knotted up and totally, helplessly undone.

And for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t feel like running away.

I feel like coming home.

# Scene 3 - from Auren Vale's point of view

By the time the driver takes the next exit, my entire lower half is numb.

Not in a bad way—more like the kind of jelly-limbed, post-orgasmic haze that makes it impossible to remember how human bodies are supposed to work.

Lachlan is still knotted inside me, arms wrapped around my back, chin resting on my hair.

For a while, neither of us says a word. We just soak in it—sweat, sex, and the kind of mutual exhaustion that feels a lot like victory.

Outside, the city glows, but here it’s all dark velvet and skin. His heart hammers against my cheek, every thump a silent echo of what we just did. I can’t stop smiling. My lips are swollen, my thighs are soaked, and I am more content than I have been in a year.

The car slows, engine rumbling in neutral, and I realize we must be getting close to wherever Lachlan lives these days. I shift a little, then hiss when the knot tugs at my insides.

“Gonna be a while before you get out,” I mutter, voice sleepy and slurred.

He laughs—actually giggles, which is so un-Lachlan I almost snort—and strokes a lazy circle on my back. “There are worse fates.”

A pause. Then he presses a button on the door, rolling down the privacy window just enough to talk to the driver. “Do a ride around town. We’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

“Yes, Mr. Wolfe,” comes the cool, professional reply. The window slides shut again, and for a second, I’m so mortified at the idea that our driver heard everything that I consider launching myself out the sunroof, knot be damned.

But the embarrassment fades. The city is ours now. The world is reduced to this—luxury leather, the hum of the engine, and the press of my Alpha’s body.

Lachlan tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his face so open it almost hurts to look at him. “I hope you’re ready for this, Sugar. There’s no going back now.”

I nuzzle his jaw, bite it gently. “Literally. I think we’re stuck together for a while.”

He groans, burying his face in my neck. “You’re impossible.”

“Damn right,” I shoot back, grinning like a maniac. “And you love it.”

He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then the corner of my mouth. “Sex drunk,” he says, voice all warm and amused. “You get like this every time. Completely loopy.”

I consider protesting, but he’s right. The world is soft and bright and oddly hilarious, and for once, I don’t have to fight it. I let myself melt into the moment, into his arms, into the certainty that nothing and no one is going to take this from me again.

After a while, the knot starts to subside, and I shift so I’m straddling his lap properly, head on his shoulder.

The city rushes by outside—cathedrals, neon signs, the endless blur of nightlife—and I try to imagine what it would have felt like to be trapped in that birdcage life my parents wanted for me.

Pilates and dinner parties, hollow Omega friends, years of carefully controlled misery.

Instead, I have this. I have him. I have a future that’s mine.

“You know this makes it official, right?” I say, poking his chest with a lazy finger.

He raises an eyebrow. “What does?”

“You. Me. The knot. It’s, like, the primal equivalent of a wedding ring.” I giggle at the thought. “If my mother finds out, she’s going to go full Godfather and try to whack you.”

He snorts, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. “Bring her on. I can handle one pissed-off Russian matriarch.”

“I think she secretly likes you,” I admit, “but don’t push it. She still has friends in government.”

He grins, then gets all serious. “I mean it, Auren. There’s no going back now. We’re a team. I’m not letting you go.”

I believe him. I really do. It’s written in the way he looks at me, in the steady weight of his arms, in the scar on my thigh from the last time he saved my life.

I close my eyes, breathing him in. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go either.”

He shifts us so we’re both more comfortable, then just holds me, the city and the world and everything else fading into background noise.

I drift a little, lost in the rhythm of the car and the softness of his shirt under my cheek.

In the back of my mind, I know there’s a storm coming—Lucius and the rest of the pack, the next race, the media, the endless complications of being the first Omega to ever race at this level.

But for now, I’m allowed to be still. I’m allowed to just… be.

Eventually, Lachlan nudges me gently. “We’re almost home.”

I look up, startled at how much time has passed. The city is behind us now, the world gone quiet. He kisses me, slow and soft, and I know I could get used to this.

“Ready for round three?” he asks, voice low and full of promise.

“Always,” I say, and it’s the truth.

As the car pulls into the drive, I let myself imagine what comes next. The others, the pack, the wild impossible future that suddenly doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

Because this time, I’m not facing it alone.

This time, I’m home.