Chapter 53 #2
I was babbling now, incoherent pleas and curses spilling from my lips as he worked me higher and higher.
His mouth and fingers moved in tandem, relentless, merciless, driving me toward an edge I wasn't sure I'd survive.
Every nerve in my body was alight, every inch of skin burning with sensation, and I could feel the orgasm building at the base of my spine, coiling tighter with every stroke of his tongue.
"Garrett—Alpha—I can't—I'm going to—"
"Do it," he commanded, his voice muffled against my flesh but no less authoritative for it. "Come on my face, omega. Give it to me. Let me taste how sweet you are when you fall apart."
I shattered. The orgasm ripped through me like a thunderclap, violent and overwhelming, my whole body seizing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
I heard myself scream—a raw, animal sound that didn't even sound human and felt Garrett groan against me, lapping up everything I gave him like he couldn't get enough, his tongue working me through the aftershocks until I was oversensitive and squirming.
But he didn't stop.
"One more," he growled against my twitching flesh. "Give me one more, and then I'll give you my cock."
"I can't—" I started, but he was already sucking my clit into his mouth, hard, his fingers crooking inside me to press against that spot that made me see stars.
I came again, harder than before, the orgasm rolling through me in waves that seemed to go on forever.
I was crying now, actual tears streaming down my face, my hands fisted in his hair, pulling hard enough that it must have hurt.
He didn't seem to mind. He worked me through it, gentling only when my body finally stopped shaking, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs as I came back down.
When he finally lifted his head, his face was wet with me, glistening in the low light. His chin was soaked, his lips swollen, and his eyes were wild with hunger. He crawled up my body, and I could smell myself on him, salt and musk and the unmistakable scent of my own need.
He kissed me, and I tasted myself on his tongue—earthy and rich and intimate in a way that made me flush despite everything we'd already done. The taste of my own pleasure, fed back to me by the man who'd drawn it out. I licked into his mouth, chasing the flavor, and felt him groan against me.
"More," I gasped against his lips when we finally broke apart. "I need more. Need your cock. Need your knot."
He growled, the sound vibrating through both of us, rumbling in his chest like distant thunder. "Yeah? Need me to fill this greedy little cunt? Need me to stretch you open on my knot until you can't think, can't speak, can't do anything but take it?"
"Yes," I whimpered, my hands scrabbling at his jeans, fumbling with the button, the zipper. "Yes, please, Alpha—" He reared back, kneeling between my spread thighs, and shoved his jeans down with none of the finesse Oliver had shown. And then I got my first real look at him.
My breath caught in my throat. He was big.
Bigger than Oliver, bigger than anyone I'd ever seen outside of fever dreams and half-remembered fantasies.
His cock stood thick and hard, curving slightly upward, flushed dark red and angry-looking, veins standing out in relief along the shaft.
The head was almost purple, slick with precum that beaded at the tip and dripped down in a thin strand.
And at the base—even soft, even not yet forming, I could see where his knot would swell, the flesh already thicker there, promising a stretch that made me shiver with equal parts anticipation and fear.
"Scared?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind. He stroked himself slowly, spreading the precum down his length, and I watched the motion with hungry eyes.
"No." I spread my legs wider, tilted my hips up in invitation.
"Want all of you. Every inch." He positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head pressing against my slick folds, and for a moment we both just breathed.
The heat of him against my most sensitive flesh made me whimper, made me try to push forward, to take him inside, but his hands on my hips held me still.
His eyes met mine—dark, desperate, full of a love so fierce it almost hurt to look at.
"Tell me if it's too much," he said. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," I promised. "I trust you." Then he pushed inside.
The stretch left me breathless. I felt every inch of him as he sank into me, my body straining to accommodate his girth, the burn of it teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain.
He was so thick, splitting me open, filling me so completely that I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the impossible fullness of him claiming me from the inside.
He went slow—agonizingly slow—sinking in inch by inch, giving my body time to adjust. I could see the strain on his face, the way his jaw clenched, the way the muscles in his arms trembled with the effort of holding back.
He wanted to slam into me, I knew. Wanted to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. But he was being careful, being gentle, and somehow that made it even more overwhelming.
Finally—finally—his hips pressed flush against mine, and he was fully seated inside me.
"Fuck," he groaned, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still.
"Daphne—Christ—you're so tight. So fucking tight and hot and wet.
Feels like you're trying to strangle my cock.
" I couldn't respond. My voice had abandoned me, lost somewhere in the overwhelming sensation of being stretched open, being filled, being possessed.
All I could do was cling to his shoulders, my nails digging crescents into his skin hard enough to draw blood, and try to remember how to breathe.
He gave me a moment—just one—his forehead pressing against mine, his breath hot on my face, his hips twitching with the effort of staying still.
Then he started to move. His first thrust punched the air from my lungs.
The drag of his cock against my inner walls, the way he pulled out almost all the way before driving back in—it was too much, too intense, too perfect.
The second thrust made me see stars, his pelvis grinding against my clit, the angle driving him impossibly deep.
By the third, I was crying out with every snap of his hips, my body rocking with the force of his movements, the headboard cracking against the wall with each impact.
He fucked like he did everything else, with raw, unbridled power, no finesse but plenty of intensity.
His hips pistoned, driving into me with a relentless rhythm that left me breathless, mindless, reduced to nothing but sensation and need.
The sound of our bodies meeting filled the room—wet, obscene slaps of skin on skin, punctuated by his grunts and my keening cries.
"That's it," he grunted, his pace brutal and unrelenting. "Take it. Take all of me. Such a good omega, letting me use this tight little cunt. Letting me fuck you like you were made for it."
"Harder," I begged, my voice unrecognizable—broken, desperate, hoarse from screaming. "Garrett, please, harder—"
He obliged.
His hips slammed into mine with a force that shook the entire nest, blankets and pillows tumbling, the wooden frame groaning in protest. Each thrust drove him impossibly deep, hitting spots inside me I hadn't known existed, sending bolts of pleasure ricocheting through my body.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles at the small of his back, using the leverage to meet his thrusts, to pull him deeper, to take everything he was giving me and beg for more.
"Fuck, look at you," he panted, his eyes roaming over my body—my flushed skin, my bouncing breasts, the place where we were joined. "Taking my cock so well. You love this, don't you? Love being fucked hard, love being filled."
"Yes," I sobbed, because it was true, because I did, because I'd never felt anything like this before. "Yes, yes, yes—"
His hand slid between us, finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched the brutal pace of his thrusts.
The dual stimulation was overwhelming—his cock filling me, stretching me, his fingers on my clit driving me higher—and I could feel another orgasm building, bigger than the ones before, threatening to consume me entirely.
Then I felt it.
The knot.
It was forming at the base of his cock, swelling with each thrust, catching at my entrance. The pressure was intense, almost unbearable, stretching my rim with each drive of his hips. I gasped as it tugged at me, too big to slip in, not yet, but getting bigger with every passing second.
"Garrett—" I choked out. "Your knot—I can feel it—"
"Yeah," he panted, his rhythm growing erratic, his control clearly fraying. "Yeah, baby, you feel that? Feel how big it's getting? Feel how much I want to lock inside you, to fill you up. Such a good omega.”
The words sent a bolt of heat straight to my core, and I clenched around him involuntarily. He cursed, his hips stuttering, and I felt the knot swell even more, pressing insistently against my entrance with each thrust, demanding entry.
"Please," I sobbed, my nails raking down his back hard enough to leave welts. "Please, Alpha, I need it—need your knot—need you."
He drove into me harder, faster, the knot catching and releasing with each thrust, stretching me a little more each time. The pressure built, a coiling tension in my lower stomach, and I knew I was close—so close—
"Daphne," he growled, his voice barely human. "Sucha. Good girl. Good Omega.”
"Yes—yes—Alpha, please—" He slammed into me one final time, hard and deep, and the knot caught.
I screamed as it stretched me impossibly wide, the burn of it sharp and bright, my body resisting for one agonizing moment before it gave way.
The knot popped past my rim and locked into place, and I came so hard my vision whited out.
The orgasm was unlike anything I'd ever experienced—violent, consuming, endless.
My whole body convulsed around him, my inner walls clamping down on his knot, milking his cock as he roared above me.
I felt him come—felt the first hot pulse of his release flooding my core, then another, and another, the knot keeping every drop locked inside me.
We were tied together now, locked in the most intimate way possible, his cock still twitching inside me as he emptied himself in waves.
The pressure was intense—his knot pressing against my g-spot, his cock impossibly deep, the fullness bordering on too much—and I came again, a smaller aftershock that made me whimper and clutch at him.
"Fuck," Garrett gasped, collapsing onto his elbows above me, careful not to crush me with his weight even now. His face found the crook of my neck, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. "Fuck, Daphne, that was—you're—Christ."
I couldn't respond. I was floating somewhere outside my body, tethered only by the knot still pulsing inside me and the weight of his body pressed against mine.
Every tiny movement sent sparks of overstimulated pleasure through me, and I could feel my walls still fluttering around him, still milking him, greedy for every drop he had to give.
We lay there for long minutes, breathing together, his knot slowly beginning to soften.
Every now and then his cock would twitch, spilling another pulse of warmth inside me, and I'd clench around him, making him groan.
"The mark," I managed eventually, my voice wrecked, barely recognizable. "Garrett—mark me—"
He lifted his head, and his eyes were wild, pupils blown so wide they'd swallowed the dark brown almost entirely. "You sure? You want my mark too?"
"Need it," I breathed, tilting my neck to expose the unmarked side—the opposite from Oliver's bite. "Need to be yours."
He didn't hesitate. His teeth found the junction of my neck and shoulder, right where my pulse fluttered against my skin. I felt his breath ghost over me, hot and damp, felt his lips press against my flesh in an almost-kiss.
"Mine," he growled low and wanting…then he bit down.
The pain was sharp, electric, his teeth breaking through skin with a pressure that made me cry out.
Almost instantly, it transformed into pleasure, a rush of endorphins flooding my system, a wave of sensation that made me come again around his still-locked knot.
The bond snapped into place like a live wire, crackling through my veins.
I could feel him now—feel his fierce devotion, his protective fury, his desperate, all-consuming love.
It was different from Oliver's bond—earthier, rawer, like the roots of an ancient tree anchoring me to the ground.
Where Oliver was warm and golden, Garrett was solid and unshakeable, bedrock beneath my feet.
When he pulled back, his lips were stained red with my blood, and his expression was something close to reverence.
"Your turn," he said roughly, tilting his head to expose his own neck. "Make me yours, omega."
I surged up—as much as the knot would allow—and sank my teeth into his shoulder.
The taste of copper flooded my mouth, hot and bright, and I felt him shudder above me, his cock twitching inside me, spilling one last pulse of release.
The bond strengthened, solidified, became something unbreakable and eternal.
When I released him, we were both breathing hard, both marked, both changed.
"Mine," I whispered, touching the bite on his shoulder, watching a bead of blood well up and trickle down his chest.
"Yours," he agreed, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Always have been. Just took you a while to claim me.
" We lay there, locked together, his knot slowly softening inside me.
The heat had receded again—not gone, but quieted, satisfied for now.
Two marks on my neck, two bonds thrumming through my veins, two pieces of my soul that now belonged to someone else.
Two down. Two to go.
Garrett eventually rolled us onto our sides, still connected, his arms wrapped around me like he couldn't bear to let go. His hand splayed across my stomach, possessive and warm, and I could feel his cum inside me, kept there by his slowly deflating knot.
"Rest," he murmured against my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "The next wave will come soon." I nodded, exhaustion tugging at my edges. But even as I drifted, I could feel the heat beginning to stir again, embers glowing in the darkness.
Levi was waiting…and I couldn't wait to claim him too.