Page 183 of Knot So Lucky

“So gorgeous—can’t believe you’re all mine tonight—good girl, taking me so deep, fuck, I could live here forever?—”

I come again, and again.

There’s no time between, no recovery, just endless laps around a track made entirely of pleasure and friction and the absolute certainty that nothing in the universe has ever fit better than this.

He holds out as long as he can, teeth gritted, arms shaking from the effort. When his knot starts to swell, he slows, bracing himself, forehead pressed to mine. Voice barely a whisper.

“Can I?” His eyes are wild with need. “Need to—please?—”

I don’t even answer, just nod, frantic, begging, every cell of my body screaming yes.

He knots.

The sensation is like being split open and soldered together all at once. I feel the swell, the impossible stretch, the locking heat of him inside me—pressure and pulse, the raw and ancient thrill of an Alpha claiming, and my body answers before my mind can catch up.

I gasp, then choke on the air, knees braced on either side of his hips while his cock thickens and pulses, and the hot rush of him spills deep, deeper, fucking eternal, flooding every part of me.

He holds me tight, arms caging, breath ragged in my hair. The world shrinks to the circle of his arms and the unbreakable link where we’re fused.

My own climax—already obliterating—shreds a second time, nerves firing wild, every contraction milking more from him. My legs shake, my spine bows, and I sob into the side of his neck, lost to the rip current of sensation.

It’s not just physical.It’s chemical. Primal.The hormone hit as our scents tangle, Omega and Alpha, signature sharp and overwhelming. I can feel him through every cell, his need, his pleasure, his pride in having me—his. It echoes through the link, a chorus of want and possess.

He breaks first, voice a hoarse, broken sound.

“Fuck—fuck, Aurora—” He bites his lip, knuckles white on my back where he grips me. His knot throbs, swelling tighter, and I can’t move, can’t even think of moving, just ride the aftershocks as my body wrings every drop from him.

I’m helpless, pinned, and so fucking alive.

It’s too much.

Too much and not enough.

This animalistic part of me—buried so deep for so long—rises to the surface, hungry and wild. My teeth flash, and I’m not even aware of biting his shoulder until the taste of skin and the copper of blood floods my mouth. The mark is deep, a perfect bite, and I suckle it while he groans—deep, guttural, wrecked by the combination of pain and pleasure.

Instinct detonates.

We shudder together, wrung dry and emptied out, suspended in the white-blue aftermath of orgasms too big to contain.

I only know he’s breathing because I can feel the aftershocks in his chest. I can taste blood, a little, and the heat of my own sweat. My thighs are shaking. My throat is raw from moans I don’t remember making.

But I did it. I claimed him.

Not just as lover or packmate but as something untouchable, necessary, permanent.

And with the way his arms wrap around me—gentle but inescapable—I know I’m not the only one who just got changed by this.

We’re fused on a molecular level, sweating and shaking and still hungry.

We don’t move for a long time.

Sweat slicks the sheets, my thighs quivering with every aftershock, and the only sound in the whole world is the sharp,uneven tempo of our breathing. I’m straddling him, more or less—hips arched, hair plastered to my forehead, teeth still sunk shallow in the mark I left on his shoulder.

The taste of him is copper and salt and how it feels a lot like victory.

His arms are locked around me, holding me in place even as the rest of my body tries to shake itself apart. The knot inside me pulses, a reminder that we’re still fused on a cellular level, that nothing and no one can wedge us apart until biology decides to ease off.

It’s the safest I’ve ever felt from someone other than Cale…which feels nice.