Page 37 of Knot in the Wedding Cards

“Beck—” I start, but he swallows the protest with another kiss, deeper this time, tongue sliding against mine in a filthy promise. One big hand cups the back of my neck, thumbstroking the sensitive spot just below my ear where my scent gland pulses.

The other hand grips my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, anchoring me against him.

“Protests later,” he groans against my lips. “We’re on a little bit of a time crunch aren’t we, Amber?”

The use of my chosen name—my real name—shatters something in me.

I moan into his mouth since it’s the only way I can respond when my body is so hot and bothered. Arching up, I press my breasts against his chest. The thin linen of my blouse does nothing to hide how hard my nipples are.

He notices immediately, breaking the kiss to look down with dark, hungry eyes, that surely undressed me plenty of times before his hands dare to do the deed fast enough.

“Still so responsive for me,” he murmurs, voice rough as gravel. His thumb brushes over one peaked nipple through fabric and I gasp, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

The bulge in his trousers is unmistakable, thick and insistent against my stomach.

The elevator is small, maybe six by eight feet, with mirrored walls that reflect us back at ourselves from every angle.

I catch a glimpse over his shoulder: my hair already coming loose from its pins, lips swollen, his large frame caging me in.

It should feel claustrophobic, yet, I’m thriving at how intimiate and private this feels. Like a stolen moment in time just for us, madly in love, our unity only months away.

His mouth trails down my throat, teeth grazing along my collar.

A frustrated sound rumbles in his chest.

“Too much of this shit on you. I want to smell that heightened aroma of yours. Every bit of it…all of you.”_

I can’t help but be amused, having to use a hint of neutralizer to test out different brands. I despise wearing it because I love the way it drives my men mad, but sometimes duty calls and the consequences are making my horny Alpha more impatient to fuck me in this metal box of an elevator.

Before I can respond, he’s tugging the collar of my blouse aside, lips finding bare skin. The first real pull of his mouth over my scent gland sends slick gushing between my thighs.

I cry out, the sound echoing sharply off the metal walls. My hands scramble at his shoulders, nails digging in.

It’s so hard to be patient when my pussy is craving the fill of his cock.

Hell, to feel the full beauty of his swollen knot.

“Beckett—”_ I whine with that submissive whimpering that always makes the poor man come undone by the seams.

He doesn’t make me beg twice.

The hand at my hip slides down, bunching my linen skirt up around my waist in one rough motion. Cool air hits my soaked panties, and I shiver, the anticipation only making me leak like an open faucet of slick and desire.

His fingers trace the edge of the lace, teasing, before pressing firmly against my center.

“Dripping for me already, my Sweet? I’m being a bad Alpha making you wait so long, hmmm?” Two thick fingers push the lace aside and slide through my folds, gathering wetness. “This pretty pussy remembers these fingers though. I bet she remembers my throbbing veiny cock seven inches deep.”

I whimper, hips rocking shamelessly against his hand.

He circles my clit with devastating precision, the calluses on his fingertips adding the perfect rough edge. My head falls back against the metal surface with a thud.

In the mirror, I watch his arm flex as he works me open, two fingers plunging deep while his thumb grinds against my clit.

The pleasure builds fast and brutally.

“That’s it,” he praises, voice low and filthy. “Cum on my hand like the good Omega you are. Let me feel you squeeze with those hot pussy walls. That’s why you’ve been doing all those Kegel exercises, yes? Just to please your Alphas.”

“Mhmm,” I moan against his lips that claim me in a messy kiss, before his scent spikes, heavy with Alpha satisfaction.