Page 104 of Ruthless Knot

Giving him every chance to change his mind, to push me away, to remember that this is insane and reckless and will complicate everything.

He doesn't move.

Doesn't flinch.

Just watches me with those devastating eyes, waiting.

As I lean toward his neck, I let my weight drop.

The movement is simultaneous—my mouth descending toward his throat while my hips lower fully, taking his swelling knot inch by impossible inch.

My pussy stretches.

Goodness, it stretches—wider than I've ever taken anything, accommodating the thick bulge at the base of his cock as it pushes inside, forcing my inner walls to expand around it. More slick floods out, easing the way, my body betraying every logical thought I've ever had by making this possible.

The pressure is intense.

Overwhelming.

The burn of being stretched beyond my limit mixed with pleasure so sharp it borders on pain.

But I don't stop.

I keep lowering, keep taking him deeper, keep allowing my body to swallow up his knot until?—

There.

The widest part passes my entrance, and suddenly he's locked inside me, the knot fully seated, pulsing and swelling even larger now that it's where it belongs.

We're locked together.

Physically bound in the most primal way possible.

And in the exact same moment, my pussy clenches around his knot—milking it, sealing us together below—my teeth sink into the left side of his neck.

The flesh gives way easily.

Easier than it should, like my body knows exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly where to bite, exactly how to trigger the biological cascade that will bond us permanently.

The taste of that pinch of blood seeps onto my lips.

Copper and salt and something else—something that tastes like vanilla and smoke and every letter I've ever written to him condensed into a single, perfect flavor.

His whole body goes rigid beneath me, back arching off the mattress, hands gripping my hips so hard I know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

I feel it happen.

The bond.

It's not gentle.

Not a soft, creeping thing that builds gradually.

It's a fucking explosion.

A supernova that detonates in my chest and radiates outward, burning through every nerve ending, every synapse, every carefully constructed wall I've built around my heart. Suddenly I can feel him—not just physically, not just the pulse of his knot inside me and his blood in my mouth—but emotionally.

His loneliness crashes into mine.