Page 38 of Knot in the Wedding Cards

That’s all I need to tip me over.

I come with a broken cry, walls fluttering around his fingers, slick coating his palm. He doesn’t stop, working me through it until my legs shake.

When I finally slump against him, he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean with a groan that vibrates through his chest.

The sight makes fresh heat pool low in my belly, while that fluttering pulsation of wanting more dares to tempt me.

“Not enough,” he says. “Need to be inside you.”

He spins me around so I’m facing the mirrored wall, hands braced on the cool surface. My reflection stares back, flushed cheeks, wild eyes, skirt rucked up around my hips.

Beckett yanks my panties down my thighs, and I step out of them automatically. He kicks them aside, as if I won’t need them when we exit the elevator.

With the pace we’re going, probably not.

His belt buckle clinks. The sound of his zipper is loud in the quiet elevator. Then his cock is nudging against me, thick and hot and bare.

The broad head parts my slick folds, teasing my entrance.

“Look at us,” he commands softly, one hand on my hip, the other reaching around to tilt my chin toward the mirror. “Watch how well you take me in your sexy reflection, Amber. You’re gonna watch every fucking thrust and how it drives your beautiful body mad.”

When he slides into me, I can barely keep my eyes open as my moan is loud and generous in proving how he drives me wild. I watch as he pushes in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching me open after years of emptiness.

The burn is exquisite.

By the time he fills me fully, my mouth falls open on a silent gasp. In the reflection, his jaw is clenched tight, eyes locked on where we join.

“So tight,” he grits out. “Knowing you're only ours and will always be is driving me insane.”

The spoken admission only arouses me in equal measure.

When he bottoms out, hips flush against my ass, we both groan. He holds still, letting me adjust, forehead pressed to the back of my neck._

“Move, Beck,” I whisper like an order, desperate to be wrecked by him, “Please, my Alpha?”

The man loves it when I beg him.

He pulls back almost all the way and slams home. The force rocks me forward onto my toes.

From there it’s relentless—deep, powerful strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside me. The elevator fills with the wet sounds of sex, skin slapping skin, my desperate moans, his low grunts.

Every thrust sends sparks up my spine. My breasts bounce with the rhythm, nipples dragging against the inside of my blouse. He reaches around to palm one, pinching the peak, and I clench around him.

“Yes—fuck—right there?—”

I’m surprised we’re not rocking the whole elevator with how he’s fucking me so damn right.

He angles his hips, finding that perfect spot again and again. The mirror shows everything: the way my face contorts in pleasure, his powerful body driving into mine, sweatbeading at his temples. One of his hands slides down to rub my clit in tight circles.

“My Sweet Apricot is going to be a good Omega and cum for me, yes?”

“Mhmm!” If only he realized how close I am.

“Words, my love. You’re going to be our future wife. You better learn to use that voice of yours, so when we’re fucking you for hours on end, you can speak that safe word, yes?”

“Fuck yes,” I moan and tremble. The envisioned future is too daring not to react.

“Come on my cock, Amber. Want to feel this sweet pussy milking me up as I fill you up with my cum.”