Page 43 of Knotted By my Pack

I turn her face and drag my tongue up the length of her neck, tasting the skin beneath her ear before closing my mouth around her earlobe and sucking it in, just hard enough to make her gasp.

Her hands grip my shoulders. “Elias. Fuck.”

“You smell like him,” I mutter against her skin, teeth grazing her neck before I soothe the bite with my tongue. “But it’s layered under this. This is mine.”

She arches when I slide my hands under her sweater, palms running up the curve of her waist. Her skin is soft and warm. I lean in and bite the hollow of her collarbone.

She moans like she’s breaking apart.

My hand cups her breast through her bra, and she whines, pressing into my palm, legs wrapping around my hips like she needs to anchor herself.

I bite her again, gentler this time, then kiss the mark I leave behind.

Her skirt is bunched at her waist and when I press forward, my cock grinds against her core. She’s slick. I can feel it through the fabric. Her hips roll, and I groan into her mouth.

“Did you let him touch you like this when you let him walk you to your door?” I ask, pressing my mouth to her ear.

She trembles against me, her nails digging into my shoulder. “He kissed my cheek. That’s it.”

My fingers slide up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her panties aside. She gasps, jerking forward.

I press a kiss to her shoulder, then her jaw. “You’re soaked, Cora. Your cunt is dripping for me,” I murmur. “You don’t even want him, do you?”

She shakes her head, eyes heavy and dazed. “I want?—”

“Say it.”

“You,” she breathes. “I want you.”

That’s all I need. I thrust two fingers into her, curling just right. Her warm, wet cunt pulses around my digits. Fuck!

I rock against her, grinding hard as my other hand cups her ass, pulling her into me again and again. She clutches the back of my neck like she’s afraid I’ll stop.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind, Cora.”

Her head falls back, exposing her throat, and I drag my tongue up it before kissing her hard. No finesse. No build-up. Just teeth and tongues and raw need.

My fingers thrust deeper, feeling more of her wetness coat both my hand and her inner thighs.

God, I want to lick her clean. I pull out, loving how she whines and protests.

“Patience, Omega,” I growl. I’m pulling at her sweater, lifting it, desperate to taste more skin. She lets me.

Her bra barely covers anything. I mouth the top of her breast and bite. She cries out.

Then we hear the distinct sound of the bell. The sharp sound cuts through the heat like a blade. Someone just walked into the bakery. We both freeze.

She stares at me, green eyes wide and hazy. Her chest heaves against my palm. I should pull back, say something, anything, but I don’t move.

She does.

Cora shoves me gently, fixing her sweater with trembling hands. She climbs off the counter, brushing past me without meeting my eyes.

“You should go,” she says, voice rough.

Then she’s gone. Out the door. Leaving me alone in the back room, every nerve in my body still on fire, fists clenched and jaw tight as I try to breathe her out of my lungs.

Too late. She’s already under my skin.