Page 16 of Salt and Knot

“Kiss me, Isla.” He drags his gaze over my face. “We haven’t kissed. I’m in your sweet pussy, knotting you, and I know that’s all that’s required to help you through your heat, but humour an old man. I want your kiss.”

I hesitantly lean down and brush my lips over Dylan’s. It should be nothing, a butterfly of a movement. But it’s a sparkle of magic. He’s inside me, knotted into me. But this kiss is more intimate. It’s special as we share breaths.

I’ve never kissed anyone before, but I know that this wouldn’t feel like that if I had. And it’s not the heat, either. With his knot in me, I’m sane and at a pleasant temperature. But as Dylan presses his lips to mine, this is soul deep. It pulses between us, a shimmering bond of light, drawing me closer until my breasts are flattened against his solid, strong chest.

He reaches up with both hands and combs his fingers into my hair, and my scalp tingles. He strokes down my salty, now dry hair and purrs, long and satisfied.

When his lips part mine, it’s as natural as breathing. Being with this man, this feels like the home I’ve never had. I chirp, unable to hold myself back.

Mate, mate, mate.

His tongue is soft and tempting, an invitation. Then I let him in, and it’s a revelation. I moan as the kiss deepens, like sinking into the refreshing sea water. I’m drowning in my alpha’s caresses. His knot that holds me as I feel like I could fall off the world, his hands in my hair, and the wonder of his lips and his tongue.

We kiss slowly, as though this was our aim all the time. We ignore the rising pleasure of his cock and my pussy responding with a sweet ache. I need to come again, but I need this connection with Dylan far, far more.

It’s nothing like the brutal treatment I was told to expect from alphas. And it’s not like the relief and pleasure I’ve heard about. My heart feels like it’s expanding with every second we kiss, until it’s big enough to envelop Dylan and hold him to me.

He eases away eventually, and sprinkles kisses over my jaw as he plays with my hair and leaves lingering caresses down my back.

“Omega, can you come for me again?” he murmurs into my ear. “You’re getting hot, and I want to fill you with more seed, so we can continue just kissing.”

I mewl an agreement. I think I’d do anything Dylan wanted. He feels as much a part of me as my toes or my arms.

“Good girl,” he tells me, and reaches between my legs. “Lift for me.”

I angle my hips and instantly regret it. Yes, he can reach my clit, but the loss of some of our skin-to-skin contact is a tear. But when he crams his hand into the small gap, I sigh with relief. And then he finds my clit with his thumb, and strokes.

I’m already boneless, but like with the monster earlier, I’m helpless to do anything but accept what he gives me. He knows my body better than I do myself.

“Alpha,” I cry out. I want to say more, but then his hand in my hair shifts my head so we’re kissing again, and this time it’s messy and passionate rather than slow and magical. It’s only seconds before pleasure explodes, rippling through me.

And he responds. I feel his cock harden further, pushing up against my cervix and painting my insides with his seed in jet after jet.

He doesn’t let up. His tongue demands my participation, his grip on my hair sends shockwaves from my head down, and my pussy milks him, even as his cock spraying into me pushes more pleasure through my body. I shake and I’m more at one with this alpha who’s still a stranger to me than anyone else I’ve ever known.

He feels like the missing part of my soul.

Chapter 9

Dylan

I wake to find Isla gone.

Not in my bed and tucked into me as she was when we fell asleep. The panic is immediate, and I bolt upright. Sunlight pours through the windows, and I’m blinded.

Then I see her, and exhale with relief.

She’s wearing the shirt I discarded yesterday. It reaches her knees, almost, and her blonde hair is all around her face. I have a seating area in my bedroom, with a sofa that looks out to sea in the morning, and she’s fussing around it.

It takes me a moment to realise what she’s doing at the crack of dawn.

She’s moved half of the cushions from the armchairs, and a throw I had on the sofa. The sofa has been shifted so it angles better to see the water. My jeans and underwear have been taken from the laundry basket, and so have several of my cashmere sweaters that I had put away until next winter. My omega has ransacked my room, regardless of privacy.

I grin.

“What about these?” I lift the cover from the bed that I’m underneath.

Her head snaps up, and she looks at me with horror.