Page 29 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)

I cry out, hips jolting, the sensation sharp and overwhelming.

Knox’s gaze drops, watching everything—my hand, the way I move, the way my mouth parts on a breathless moan.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice dark silk, an intense edge in every word. “Just like that. Let me see how you fall apart.”

And I do.

Every movement of his hips presses me closer to the edge, every word from his mouth a spark to dry kindling.

I’m burning for him.

Burning because of him.

My breath comes in shallow, shattered gasps. My legs tremble. He’s still inside me, thick and slow and steady, filling me like no one ever has, like no one ever could.

His hand grips my hip tighter, possessive, grounding me as my body starts to unravel.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he says, eyes locked on me like I’m the center of his universe. “So good for me.”

That’s what shatters it.

The praise.

The possession.

The unbearable intimacy of being seen .

My breath catches on a broken sob as my body clenches around him, tight and pulsing and completely out of my control. It starts low, a deep, rolling heat that bursts wide open like a star going supernova. My thighs shake. My stomach tightens. And then I’m gone.

White hot pleasure explodes through my core, lighting every nerve ending on fire. My vision blurs. My lungs forget how to work. It’s too much, too good, too deep, and I want it to last forever.

I cry out, fingers still moving as he keeps thrusting, slow and steady, dragging every last wave from me like he needs to wring it out of my soul. And maybe he does, because Knox’s voice is in my ear now, wrecked and full of need.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Coming so hard on my cock. You’re fucking perfect.”

I’m shaking, lost in it, floating in that strange, shimmering place between pleasure and surrender. I don’t feel like a body anymore, I feel like sensation. Like light.

I cry out, body seizing around him, and Knox grits his teeth, riding it out like he’s barely holding on.

But he doesn’t stop.

He flips us in one fluid motion, dragging me on top of him with a dark grin. “You’re not done yet.”

“Bossy,” I pant, grinning down at him.

“You like me bossy.” He grabs my hips and starts guiding me, thrusting up as I roll my hips in slow circles. “You love it when I take charge.”

He’s not wrong.

I ride him hard, skin slapping, sweat slick between us. His hands are on my ass, gripping tight, and when he bends up to suck one of my nipples into his mouth, I nearly come again.

“Hands behind your back,” he murmurs.

“What…”

He sits up, holding me in his lap, and gathers both my wrists behind me in one big hand. “Trust me?”

I nod.

“Good girl.”

The praise hits me almost harder than his cock.

He rocks up into me, hard and fast now, holding my arms and kissing me roughly, claiming every sound I make. It’s filthy. Hot. I’ve never felt so out of control and so safe at the same time.

When I come again, it’s not soft or spiraling or slow.

It rips through me.

My whole body jerks, back arching like a bowstring, breath shattering in my throat. The pleasure is crazy this time, raw, nearly brutal in its intensity, and it doesn’t creep up the way the last one did. It devours.

My thighs tremble violently. My voice breaks around his name. And when he lets go of my wrists and flips me like I weigh nothing, I barely register the motion. I’m still floating in the aftershock, still twitching from it, hips jerking helplessly even as he bends me over the edge of the bed.

“Damn, look at you,” Knox groans, voice ragged, his hands like brands on my hips as he flips me easily and lays me flat against the edge of the bed. “You come like it’s the end of the world.”

It feels like the end of the world.

Like something inside me shattered and remade itself in his hands. Like he’s pulled the breath from my lungs and replaced it with a heat that only exists when he’s inside me.

I can’t speak. I can barely think . I’m trembling, every nerve still lit up, twitching under his touch.

His hands grip my thighs and drag me back to the edge, until my legs are dangling and my back arches off the mattress.

The air is thick and electric, and I feel everything.

The rough drag of his skin against mine, the slick heat between my thighs, the way my body pulses around nothing, desperate and empty until…

He thrusts back into me.

Deep.

Hard.

One fluid stroke that punches the air from my lungs.

I cry out, fingers curling into the sheets, already so spent I should be useless, but the second he’s back inside me, I’m wide open again. Helpless. Wanting.

Knox leans over me, a hand braced beside my head, the other gripping my thigh to hold me still as he fucks into me with ruthless, slow precision. His skin is flushed, damp with sweat, and his eyes, fuck, his eyes, are wild. Dark. Unfocused. Like he’s barely hanging on.

“Fucking perfect ,” he pants, jaw clenched, lips grazing my temple as his hips snap forward again. “You feel like heaven.”

My entire body tenses, every aftershock firing again as he keeps going, keeps pressing deeper, until it’s all too much and still not enough.

I can feel the sweat sliding down the curve of my back. Feel the stretch, the heat, the absolute ruin of it.

The sound of our skin meeting is filthy and wet and constant. The bed creaks beneath us. The air tastes like salt and sex and desperation.

And he doesn’t stop.

Not until his thrusts stutter, his breathing turns to ragged gasps, and his fingers dig so hard into my thighs I know I’ll wear the imprint for days.

“Fuck, Josie.”

He groans, low and guttural, one final thrust burying him deep as he spills inside me, warmth spreading in thick pulses that make me clench around him all over again.

My name falls from his lips like a prayer and a curse, like I’m something sacred he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

And for a moment, we don’t move.

Just breathing. Just shaking. Just feeling .

His forehead drops to mine, his chest heaving against my back, and I can feel him still pulsing inside me, like even now, he doesn’t want to let go.

I don’t want him to.

I’m ruined.

Dripping.

His .

And I never want to be anything else.