Page 19 of Worthy or Knot (Serendipity Omegaverse #3)

Nineteen

COLE

M arcus is practically frantic as he pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it across the room without ever looking away from me.

His gaze soaks me in before stopping on my chest. No, on the bond scar.

His scent intensifies around us, and I feel a pleasure that isn’t my own singing through my veins for a handful of seconds before it dissipates under the suppression medication. I nearly cry out at its loss.

I pull him to me, easing his own shirt off before palming the nape of his neck as I force the kiss hard and deep, trying to get under his skin even though I know it’s not logically possible.

Nutmeg surrounds us, so damn potent, and I want to drown in it, in him, in this.

A whine builds in my throat from the sudden intensity of my need.

With a muttered curse, he breaks the kiss. His hands run down my arms before landing on the waistband of my jeans.

“Fuck, Cole,” he mutters, worrying at the button and zipper, “you need to get your scent blockers off before I rip them.”

Like I give a damn about clothes when every half-brush of his hands against my dick has me aching.

I twist my hands into his hair and pull him back to me, running my nose along his jaw.

God, my body is on fire. If I weren’t on a heat suppressor—and felt the start of one just a few months ago—I’d worry this was the telltale beginnings of one.

Another pulsing wave of need rushes through me, straight to my dick.

This time, the whine doesn’t stay locked away.

It falls between us, pressed into the small valley just behind his jaw.

He freezes for half a breath and worry floods through me. Did I go too far? Did I show him too much? I start to pull away, but he growls, low in his throat.

“Don’t you dare move,” he says, his voice hoarse.

I freeze, not daring to even breathe. His entire body shakes, small tremors that he doesn’t seem to notice, as another growl rumbles through his chest.

No, not a growl. A purr .

All at once, my nerves fall away like an ill-fitting jacket dropped. He pulls the skin behind my ear between his teeth, biting hard enough I cry out. A wave of satisfaction crashes through me before snuffing out.

“Better,” he whispers.

His hands tremble where he grabs the waistband of the jeans and pushes them down.

Without a word, I cant my hips, giving him enough room to get them off.

His lips slam on mine as he tosses them across the room, landing in a heap in the far corner.

And then he has my scent blockers in his grip.

A sudden twist of his hands, and the fabric tears.

Apple floods the room, so strong it’s honestly embarrassing.

Marcus groans.

There isn’t an ounce of hesitation as he wraps a hand around my base and strokes my cock once, hard and tight.

I jerk into his hold with a grunt. He smears the beading bit of liquid even as the kiss grows more frantic, more uncontrolled.

My head empties out, my body singing with too much stimulation to have any hope of keeping track of it all.

It’s not until the clinking metal of his belt echoes through the room that I remember this isn’t my house, isn’t my furniture.

“We should probably not do this on a couch that could be ruined,” I admit against his lips, my chest heaving. “Or at least put something underneath us.”

He pulls away with a mournful groan. “Right.”

He stands, pulling me with him.

The room spins, and my vision blurs. I bite back a different kind of groan.

My eyes close, and I hope he’ll assume I’m too overwhelmed with this primal need coursing through my veins.

Without a word, he guides me to the room he’s used as his own.

As he closes the door, I still, praying to whatever god might be listening that the horrible vertigo fades and isn’t actually a sign of a flare.

His arm snakes around my waist as he pulls me into him, his chest pressing to my back, his dick hard and heavy against the small of my back. His lips press into the nape of my neck.

Time seems to stop, the moment stretching endlessly between us, so intimate and yet so new I’m not sure what the rules of engagement even are.

Do I tell him I haven’t been with anyone since him?

Fuck, I probably should. Swallowing down the new wave of nerves, I lace my fingers with his.

Finally, the horrid vertigo fades and my vision returns to normal.

“Cole,” he murmurs, running his lips down my throat and across my shoulder in a continuous circuit. A single finger traces the scarred bite that straddles my collarbone. I let my head fall back on his shoulder as my dick jumps at the intimate touch.

“Marcus.” My own voice is haggard, full of need. “Please.”

Without a word, he walks us to the bed. Before I’m even fully settled, he’s rising over me, his cock pressing against me, testing me. The words spill out of me before I can figure out just how to confess my secret.

“I haven’t been knotted since you.”

He pauses, his eyes widening like saucers. A brief, near-violent wave of shock crashes under my sternum.

“Not once?” His voice carries the same shocked disbelief.

“No,” I manage to whisper, my voice cracking around the word.

He mutters something against the bond scar, too faint for me to understand him, and then moves to kneel between my spread legs.

My breathing comes in short pants as he stares down at me, his cheekbones sharpening with his own arousal.

Nutmeg and apple fill the room, a testament to our combined need. My dick lays hard against my stomach.

“Marcus.” I swallow, not even sure what to say.

His palms move slowly up my thighs, his callouses catching on the fine hair that covers them.

He pauses at my hips, his thumbs running along the sensitive skin.

It takes me a moment to realize he’s wiping away my slick.

My cheeks flush as embarrassment races through me.

His gaze flicks back up to me. Had he felt it?

“You haven’t knotted since that night?” he asks. I carefully shake my head, not wanting to trigger more vertigo. “Have you ever been locked, then?”

“I’m laid out underneath you, begging for your dick, and you’re asking if I’ve fucked a female Alpha?” I can’t help but ask the question, my voice equal parts dry and humorous.

He nods once, his hands pausing. A feral, primal possessiveness rises under my sternum and steals my breath. The suppressor swallows it a heartbeat later. I swallow down a cry. His eyes fix on the movement of my throat, and his hands tighten on my hips.

“No.”

The whispered confession falls between us, a match dropped on dried scrubland.

He groans, and his eyes flutter shut. His voice is nothing but unrestrained desire when he murmurs, “Jesus, Cole. I’m already holding on by a thread.”

I tilt my hips in invitation and close my knees around his thighs, drawing him closer to me. Before I can actually move him, his hands are on my knees, immediately taking control of the entire dynamic. God, that’s hot.

I perfume again, stronger than before.

“Alpha,” I whisper. “Please.”

His teeth dig into his lip a moment before his eyes open.

The blatant heat in them? Every single day without him the last three years has been worth it just to see that look, to see the primal need consuming him right now.

Without another word, he pulls me closer to him, guiding my knees around his waist.

He pushes into me with a single, steady thrust. My cock jumps, and I moan.

He tilts his head back on a ragged exhale as he seats himself entirely, his hold on my thighs tight enough it’ll bruise.

He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t move at all.

I writhe under him, needing more, needing him to fuck me until we’re so close people couldn’t possibly tear me away from him, could never separate us again.

“Cole,” he grinds out. I whine again and my scent intensifies, an edge to it betraying my desperation. As if it isn’t so overwhelming right now that it must be overriding the suppressor. “ Damn it , I’m trying so hard to keep myself in check right now.”

I shake my head. “Give it to me. Please.”

Whatever last thread of control he had snaps.

He leans over me, capturing my mouth in a searing, mind-numbing kiss, and then he, thankfully, moves.

His thrusts are hard and deep, pushing me right to the edge in a matter of moments.

Every whimper, every whine, every noise I’ll no doubt be embarrassed by in the morning, is caught between his lips.

He hums, wordlessly soothing me. Heat pools in the base of my spine.

“Marcus,” I whisper. Pleasure coils tighter, and I know I’m half a second from coming. “Marcus, please.”

What am I even asking for? I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be able to give it to me, he’ll satisfy this deep-seated ache within me.

“I know,” he grunts. “Go with me.”

As if I could stop myself right now. He stills above me with a broken moan, buried so fucking deep, and then his knot swells. My back bows, my vision blurring as sensation whips through my limbs, more scalding than a damn fire. The scream rips up my throat, and he kisses me again, muffling it.

I don’t know how long it lasts, how long the oddly satisfying, floating sensation continues before it slowly ebbs away.

Eventually, my vision clears and reality creeps back in.

Marcus is kissing behind my ear and down my throat.

His knot is still keeping us together. The forced intimacy, the extended touch, soothes something I didn’t even realize was aching.

I swallow and then twist a strand of his hair around my finger.

“So,” I say, trying for humor, “does this mean you’re good with me moving in?”

His laugh is breathless, and there’s a flash of humor in the bond.