Page 125 of Knot So Lucky

Cale wakes then, his presence adding to the mix, his hands joining Elias's in cooling me when the heat spikes too high.

They trade off seamlessly, Cale's rough tenderness complementing Elias's playful control, their scents blending into that lightning-asphalt sugar-sin aroma that makes my head spin.

Fruit and water again, bites shared between kisses, keeping me hydrated even as they drive me wild.

Hours blur into a cycle of waking, needing, being tended.

Elias takes the lead in this turn, his tender-dominant style drawing out my pleasure—letting me ride his fingers, then his thigh, praising me through each peak.

"Good girl, just like that. You're doing so well for me." The words are playful, confident, wrapping around me like a safety harness in a high-speed car.

But the heat demands more, and soon I'm begging for him fully again.

This time, he lets me straddle him, guiding me down with his hands on my hips, our bodies moving in sync. The stretch is delicious, veined thickness filling me, and I ride him hard, circles turning to bounces, skin slapping in rhythm.

Scents explode—sandalwood and vanilla, steel and gasoline, tension thick as race-day air.

When his knot swells, Cale intervenes again, lifting me off with gentle strength. I whine, but Elias soothes, "Soon, little Omega. We're getting there."

They cool me, feed me, let me rest between them, the world quiet once more.

The cycle repeats, each waking building on the last, the competitive vibe infusing every touch—Elias challenging me to take more, to last longer, his playful dominance pushing my limits like testing a prototype on the track.

Cale watches, participates when needed, his possessive edge adding thrill. Scents layer deeper, tension electric, the safehouse a bubble of heat and connection.

Eventually, exhaustion claims me fully, sleep pulling me under with their arms around me, scents lulling me to peace.

But I know it's not over; the heat simmers, waiting for the next turn…

The next Alpha, the pack forming around me like a team assembling for the ultimate race.

CHAPTER 23

Burst Of Heat Part III

~AURORA~

“Aurora. Are you ready for me?”

I drift in the hazy aftermath, my body still humming like an engine idling after a hard sprint, every nerve alight with the echoes of Adrian's touch.

His words linger in my ear, a velvet promise that wraps around me tighter than the sheets he's tucked so carefully around my form.

Candles and music—such a simple vow, yet it stirs something deep in my Omega core, a flutter of anticipation amid the chaos of this heat that's unraveling me thread by thread. I feel exposed, radiant in the way he described, but there's a vulnerability here too, one I usually bury under grease-stained coveralls and the sharp wit I wield like a tool in the pit.

Here, in this dimly lit safehouse room that smells of us—of his calm bergamot and black tea mingling with my smoked vanilla and the faint, lingering gasoline tang that's always part of me—I'm just Aurora, stripped bare.

My breaths come slow and deep, chest rising and falling against his as he holds me close, his heart a steady rhythm beneath my cheek.

The wood-smoke spice of him is soothing, like a quiet pit stop after the roar of the track, but it doesn't quench the fire entirely. The heat simmers, patient but insistent, coiling low in my belly again. I shift slightly, feeling the slick between my thighs, the evidence of what we've just shared, and a soft whimper escapes before I can stop it.

Adrian's arms tighten around me, not possessive like Cale's grip, but protective, worshipful, as if he's savoring every second of this intimacy.

"You're still burning, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low hum against my hair. I nod, too spent to speak, but my body betrays me, arching subtly into him.

He chuckles softly, the sound dark and affectionate, and pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. His dark blue ones are like dusk over a storm, intense yet unshakable, studying me with that calculating patience I've glimpsed in him before. "Let me take care of you a little longer, sweet Omega. No rush. We've got time."

He doesn't wait for permission—doesn't need to, not with how my instincts are purring at his nearness. His hand slides down my side, tracing the curve of my hip with reverent fingers, and I feel the thrill of it, that competitive edge creeping back in even in this slow, worshipful dance.