Chapter 30 Training Grounds And Dangerous Games #4
"Rowan—" she gasps, nails digging crescents into my skin. "Don't stop—"
"Not a chance," I grit, thrusting up to meet her, matching her bounce for bounce.
Our bodies slap together, the sound echoing off the gym walls, mixing with her high cries and my ragged breathing.
My knot swells, fattening at the base, aching to lock us together, but I fight the urge. Not yet. Not until she says.
She's close—I can feel it in the way her walls flutter, in the sound of her voice going breathless. Her thighs spasm on either side of me, and her head falls back, mouth open in a silent scream. "Yes, yes, oh—"
With a strangled moan, she comes, pulsing around my cock in tight, rhythmic waves. My hands dig into her hips, holding her steady as she rides out the tremor, deep and relentless.
“Fuck— Hazel.” The words are just a growl, strangled and wild, not even a real warning as I lose it.
My knot, already swelling at the base, flares and presses insistently, not locking but thick enough to make us both gasp.
I come hard, spilling into her in desperate, shuddering pulses, the pressure so sharp it’s almost pain.
She collapses over me, arms bracketing my head, curls fanned out around us, every inch of her sweat-slicked and trembling.
We stay tangled, caught in the aftershocks, my cock twitching inside her as she milks every last drop from me, greedy and perfect.
I growl, feeling the urge to let my knot lock in, and it takes everything to force her hips up enough to glide out. The agony of retreating like this drives me mad, but Hazel comes to the rescue.
Her palm cups my knot, fingers massaging and coaxing so that the swell is less of a spike and more of a drawn-out, delicious ache.
It’s not the same as being inside her, not even close, but the relief is instant and overwhelming. I can breathe again. My hips jerk reflexively, chasing her touch, and she laughs, bringing her other hand up to steady herself on my chest.
Her curls hang down in a wild halo, and her face is flushed and damp with sweat. She looks triumphant— a queen astride a conquered enemy— and the sight of her like this hits me harder than any orgasm ever could.
She strokes me, slow and deliberate, milking the slick from my tip and watching my face as if she’s cataloging every reaction, every twitch and gasp.
I can’t look away, can barely blink, my whole world narrowed to the perfect circle of her hand and the sensation of her skin gliding over mine.
She thumbs the ridge of my knot, rolls her wrist, and another wave of pleasure slams through me, so intense I have to bite my own fist to keep from howling.
“You’re so sensitive,” she teases, voice hoarse. “Didn’t realize firefighters had such delicate equipment.”
The comeback dies on my lips, replaced by a guttural moan as she pumps her fist faster, matching the frantic pulse of my blood.
I’m close, so close, balls tight with the kind of urgency that doesn’t care about dignity or restraint. All that matters is the finish, the ecstasy of release, the promise of her warmth and her scent tangled around me for hours to come.
She leans in again, lips at my jaw, and I can feel her smile as she whispers, “Let go, Rowan. I want to feel you lose control.”
That’s it.
The last sandbag breaks.
I buck up into her hand, groaning as the orgasm crashes through, knot swelling huge and throbbing in her grip as I spill over her fingers and my own stomach, hot and viscous and endless.
She milks every pulse with that talented grasp of hers, giggling as the mess pools and drips, then brings her slick hand up to her mouth and licks it clean, eyes never leaving mine.
The sight alone would be enough to break me a second time.
This woman knows how to please her Alpha, one hundred percent.
We finally collapse on the mats, allowing ourselves to calm from the exhilarating high that delivered.
"Incredible," I finish, kissing her forehead. But as reality creeps back, I realize the risk—we're in the firehouse gym, door unlocked…still. "We should—"
Too late.
Footsteps echo from the hall, leaving us to share a look of horror before we’re cursing. Panic hits, and we scramble, her grabbing clothes, me zipping up just as the door opens.
Jenkins pokes his head in.
"Captain? You still here? Ember's acting weird—oh."
He freezes, taking in our disheveled state, the yoga ball that I accidentally kicked in my scrambled rolling lazily in our frozen state.
"Uh, training ran long?" I say lamely.
Jenkins smirks.
"Sure. I'll... come back later." He backs out, chuckling.
Hazel buries her face in my chest, mortified laughter bubbling up.
"We're never living this down."
"Worth it," I say, holding her close.
Her scent calms me, the coziness returning despite the embarrassment.
After we've cleaned up and she's headed back to the bakery, I think about Korrin, about the security measures Nash helped set up.
We haven't told her yet, but there’s a trap lingering for the Alpha who thinks we accept “give-backs”.
A baited trap that will make it impossible for him to keep playing these reckless games.
All he has to do is fall right into it…
Until then, we just keep loving our girl — our sweet honey of an Omega that’s finally beginning to blossom into the beautiful wildflower she is.
I watch her walk away, curves swaying, confidence in every step.