Knot Her Shot (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 2)

Chapter 23

chapter

twenty-three

I might not beable to read, but I can count.

And everything Remi has fits into eight boxes.

They’re big and sturdy, but still.

Leave it to Smith to essentially take an omega prisoner while also providing the best moving boxes money can buy.

When he told us Remi had “agreed” to move in with us after his visit last night, he left out the whole “against her will” part. When Cass texted her to ask her for a grocery list and found out she had basically been barked into submission, he gut-punched Smith so hard that I’m surprised our alpha didn’t barf up his own diaphragm.

Another epic shouting match ensued. That ended pretty quickly when Smith pointed out that his approach had, in fact, worked. And we had a lot more important things to do than argue if we wanted to get the house ready for Remi.

Which didn’t go so great.

But we tried.

And when my alarm went off at quarter-to-the-ass-crack-of-dawn? I bounced my happy ass out of bed and zoomed right out the door.

After the way last night went, Cassian insisted on being there to pick Remi up. Since we have morning skate at nine, that meant a hell of a wake-up call for all of us.

You’d never know it from looking at Remi, though. She’s buried any hint that all of this isn’t peachy-keen by the time we pull up to the curb outside her place.

She looks cute as hell, decked out in another sundress with those same silver sandals. When I jump out first, bounding over to her, I can’t resist taking her hand and twirling her, watching the way the skirt flutters around her legs.

My pretty girl.

I’m being a flirt, but when she laughs, the quiet lilt of it touches a secret place in the deepest part of me. The feeling echoes around in there, scraping all the air out of my lungs. Leaving me with the overwhelming feeling of complete awe.

“Damon?” Her cool fingers trace over my fading bruise and carefully touch my cheek. “Are you okay?”

I nod. I want to speak, but my tongue tangles in the back of my mouth.

Oh fuck. I literally can’t even talk.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Game is the only advantage I have over these knot-heads. If I can’t charm her, what will she want with me?

While I choke on my own tongue, Cassian stomps over and snaps Remi right into his arms.

A bear hug, I guess you’d call it.

No, I won’t ever let him live that down.

“Rems,” he whispers, folding our omega up into his wide chest. “You okay? You sure you want to do this?”

I want to elbow him in the back and tell him not to blow this, but Remi smiles into his shoulder, nestling her cheek there. “I’m sure about you,” she says, flashing her blue, blue eyes up to mine, pinning the breath in my lungs when she includes me. “Both of you.”

There’s no prayer of me keeping the huge grin off my face. I crowd in, dropping my forehead down to hers. “Me, too, pretty girl?”

Her little smile takes on a mischievous gleam. Holy fuck, this girl.

“You, too, Trouble.”

Is that my new nickname?

Done.

Stamp it, ship it. I am now officially Trouble. I’ll have them announce it in this weekend’s game.

And, actually? It works. When I fly down the ice? “Here comes Trouble.”

This omega is brilliant.

Cassian looks marginally better when he sets Remi back down. “You need me to carry anything down the stairs?”

She shakes her head. “The furniture isn’t mine. It stays in the apartment. I’ll just go up and double-check that I didn’t forget something, grab my purse, and we can go.”

I offer to walk her up, doing my best to deflect from the ready-to-rip-each-other’s-arms-off vibe between Smith and Cass. They’re still scowling at each other when I open the building’s front door, shooting them both a frantic get your shit straight look over her curly head as she floats past.

There’s another edge to her scent today. Thankfully, I spent most of the night Googling. So, now, I know that the bit of slice edging her sweetness either means she’s in need, or she’s stressed.

And, unless she has a cardboard fetish…

This must all be very stressful for her. She’s lived here for years. Days ago, she didn’t even know we existed. There must have been a better way for Bulldozer Smith to go about this.

It’s too late for that now, but her stress has my Alpha nudging me harder and harder with every step up the stairs.

Or maybe that’s the sight of her hips swaying. Difficult to say.

Outside her door, she pats my arm softly and offers her small smile. “I’ll be right out.”

I want to go with her, but she must already feel suffocated enough by all of us. Deciding to leave it, I cast her my easiest smile as I agree, “Okay, sweetness.”

Minutes pass. My foot starts to bounce. Then my fingers start tapping against my thigh.

Is she okay? Should I go in?

When it’s been more than five minutes, I tap on the door. “Remi? You ready, pretty girl?”

There’s some scuffling behind the door and then an ear-splitting whine cracks the air.

I’ve been a pro-athlete for most of my adulthood. But when I tell you I have never moved so fast in my life.

In a blur, I race into the tiny, empty apartment.

It looks so different than it did yesterday. Without Remi’s special touch, I see what Smith is bitching about. This place is rough.

And I grew up in a trailer that didn’t even have a toilet. So.

Remi is in her tiny kitchen. She leans against the cracked countertop, her eyes closed, and both arms wrapped over her body.

It looks like she’s in pain. I lunge in her direction, sucking in a gasp that stops me dead in my tracks.

Oh holy shit.

This room smells like sweet-soaked sex.

Honey-drenched, horny heaven.

Fuuuuuuck. I want to drop to my knees. Bury my face between her thighs and stay under her twirly skirt for hours.

The razor-edge of her sweetness cuts right through my control, carving out any tiny bit of reason I may have had. I groan, gripping my rock-hard cock through my sweats in an attempt to strangle it into submission.

Remi jumps, her eyes big and round as they fly to mine. The pretty blues flutter, unfocused. “Alph—Damon. I don’t feel so well. I—I think?—”

She cuts herself off, wincing in pain. Her hand floats up to cover her lower abdomen as if she has a cramp there.

Fuck.

Google mentioned that, too.

Omegas are in pain when they need relief from an alpha and they don’t get it. It usually happens during heats, but some of the articles mentioned that heat spikes happen more often in scent-sensitive packs. Especially ones that aren’t bonded.

Is that what this is? What do I do?

You heard her. She almost called me Alpha. Which means it’s my job to take care of her when she feels like this.

Somehow.

I could take her down to the guys? But then someone else might scent her, and this incredible perfume will be all over the building. Not to mention, I doubt she wants Smith around her when she’s feeling like this. Things are still so fucked up between them.

Pulling my phone out, I send a quick text to tell them we’re taking a minute, then I carefully move closer to Remi. She whimpers again, hurtling into my arms the second I open them.

Thick sweetness wafts into the air while I cuddle her, turning to put her body between mine and the countertop. My knot throbs, demanding I press closer and gently rub my hardness against her hip. It’s just a little (well, big) tease, but she moans like I’ve just stroked over her clit.

Mmm. Fuck, but she’s so sweet when she perfumes. I want to lick her slick up right fucking now. In this dingy kitchen. Next to the world’s oldest dishwasher.

Remi trembles against me, shivering while her lips fall slack and her hands clutch at my T-shirt. I run my hardness over that sweet spot between her hip and her pussy again. Her knees buckle.

Before she can fall, I bend my leg to shove it between her soft little thighs. When my flexed quad muscles meet her core, she gasps.

Her file said she’d done some heats in clinics, which means she can’t be a virgin. But this feels like the sort of reaction someone who has never been properly touched might have.

Either way, I’m here for it. She can be as turned on as she damn well wants. You won’t hear one single complaint from me.

I stroke her face, brushing all of her hair back so I can kiss her cheeks and her eyelids. “You like the way that feels, pretty girl? Mm. God. I wish I could give you my knot right now.”

A breath quivers out of her, ghosting over my cheek. “I—I want you to.”

Only… she doesn’t. There’s fear in her eyes, along with embarrassment. She isn’t ready for me to knot her at all. And, why would she be? We barely know each other.

I know she’s mine. Ours. But the rest of it?

We need time. I don’t want this to be like every other woman I’ve charmed, burning fast and furious and based entirely on one thing. I want everything with Remi to be different. Right.

The person I’ve been won’t be enough. She deserves someone selfless and smart and just… better.

And I’m going to be that guy.

No matter how delicious she smells.

Holy fucking?—

Her scent is so thick in the air, I can almosttaste her. It’s torture, until I realize that there’s no reason that I can’t get her off. Just because I’m not going to let things spin out of control, doesn’t mean she can’t take me for a test drive.

In fact, the only thing stopping me from ripping those wet panties right off her cute little ass is?—

Nothing.

Nothing is stopping me.

“Can’t knot you here,” I mumble, juggling her as I shift to make room to slide my hands under her skirt. “But there are other things I can do.” Stuff that wouldn’t make it impossible for us to leave after. Or get any more perfume in this place.

Remi makes a small, pained sound. From the way her pupils blow, I wonder if she’s even the one driving right now. I might be dealing with her Omega, which would mean I’m not facing my brilliant, logical pretty girl at the moment. Her Omega will only understand a yes or a no.

I hold her gaze so she can see the way mine burns. “I never want another alpha to scent you while I’m making you come. Unless it’s Smith or Cassian. I guess they can watch.”

Oh, my sweetness loves that idea. Her pupils expand along with the cloud of her perfume. She whines again, her hips softly bucking toward mine. “Yes, Alpha.”

Fuck. Me.

I might come in my pants.

My chest rumbles, molars grinding as she nestles her face into my throat and starts kissing me. Licking, nipping, and moaning into my neck. Fuck, it’s so hot. My hands skim up the outside of her thighs and dig into her hips, feeling the ruffled edges of her panties.

“What’s gotten into you, pretty girl?” I murmur, giving in to the urge to scrape my teeth over her shoulder. “You feeling needy today?”

“I—I’m sorry,” she starts. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Tender protectiveness washes through me. I drop my temple to hers, scent-marking her. “There’s nothing wrong with you, baby. I like you exactly like this. And when you were polished and pretty yesterday. And last night, when you were all rumpled in that cute-as-fuck nightgown. I’ll take option D, all of the above.”

She whimpers, and the sound goes straight through my cock, forcing a burst of pre-cum. Her body responds to my thicker scent, perfuming furiously.

For a second, I almost lose my grip. The urge to rut pounds at my pulse points. I swallow it down, exhaling as calmly as I can. My voice still sounds like gravel when I turn my face into hers. “Tell me what this cunt needs from me.”

Just when I think I won’t make it—my instincts are too strong, her perfume is too good—she somehow says the perfect thing.

“I hate”—she pants, squirming against my leg—“that word.”

A laugh sloughs out of me. Cunt? She’s rubbing herself all over my leg, but she objects to me saying cunt?

Oh my GOD. Could she be any more adorable?

Smiling, I nuzzle another mark against her throat. “Sorry, sweetness.” My hands find the small of her back, massaging as I amend my request to exclude the word she hates. “Tell me what you need.”

She whines again, the sound so urgent, it breaks my brain. And immediately banishes any sort of amusement.

“Alpha—” she squeaks. “It hurts.”

It has to be a heat spike. She isn’t warm enough to be in a real heat, but she’s clearly in pain. The only way to give her relief is easing.

Which is a polite way of saying she needs an alpha to make her pretty little pussy feel good.

Put me in, coach.

I only hesitate because I honest-to-God cannot decide where to start. It feels like waking up on Christmas morning to a mountain of presents and feeling the giddy overwhelm of not knowing which one to open first.

Do I untie these bows holding her sundress up? Or tease her through those soaked panties? Should I take my cock out or make her beg to see it?

I won’t fuck her here—as much as I’m dying to. For one, I want to take this slow. And the guys would likely murder me when we finally get back downstairs.

But, more importantly, omegas in spikes aren’t in their right minds. I would never assume she’s down to fuck when I haven’t asked her. And, right now, she can’t really answer.

So sign me up for a throbbing knot, I guess. Totally worth it.

When she senses my pause, Remi’s scent singes slightly. Her voice shakes. “Alpha, do you not?—”

Fuck. That.

I press my lips right over hers, kissing her long enough to halt any sentiment that would end with me not wanting her.

And maybe a tiny bit longer, just to get the smallest taste of her honeyed sweetness.

But, God, that one little drop is like an electric charge to my cock.

I grunt, the sound vibrating between our lips. She breaks off with a gasp, eyes big and round, the blue down to a thin band.

Is she blushing? Oh, I’m going to corrupt this sweet girl. And she’s going to love it.