29. Quinn #2
“I don’t know. A week? A couple days? Today?” she says in a rush. “My doctor said I should stop, but I…”
She trails off, her expression tight, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she looks away.
I wait, letting the silence stretch between us, giving her the space she needs. But I release her hands and settle more of my weight over her, nuzzling into the soft curve of her neck, placing slow, unhurried kisses there. Drunk on her skin.
I can feel her searching for the words—feel the tension in her muscles, the way her scent shifts.
“Quinn…” she says again, and this time her scent changes—threaded with anxiety.
I lift my head immediately, eyes locking on her. “What’s wrong, love?”
She looks away from me. “I’m afraid,” she whispers, so quiet it barely reaches me.
A sharp, protective surge rips through me. I’d burn down the world to take that fear away.
“Afraid of what?”
“Of it happening.” Her fingers are still tracing idle paths on my skin. “I’ve never had one before, you know. I don’t know what to expect. What it’ll feel like. How bad it’ll be. If I’ll know what to do. If you’ll like it?”
Her voice breaks on that last part, and it just about shatters me.
Fuck.
I knew she was inexperienced. I knew she’d been on suppressants for most of her life. But hearing her say it out loud, hearing the uncertainty, the fear feels like a punch to the gut.
I shift, gripping her hips, pulling her beneath me, pressing down against her. Making sure she feels how much she turns me on.
“You listen to me, Omega,” I murmur, my voice low and firm, laced with command—my Alpha wanting, needing her to understand.
“You don’t have to be afraid of that. We’ll take care of you.
You can’t do it wrong. And there isn’t a single thing about being with you—in heat or rut—that we wouldn’t fucking love. ”
I grind against her, hard, making sure she feels exactly what she does to me—no room for doubt. My cock is thick and straining, pressed right where she’s warm and wet and perfect.
“There isn’t anything I want more than to be buried so fucking deep inside you you can’t speak. To have you locked on my knot again and again until you’re dripping with my cum.”
I lean in closer, my breath hot against her ear, my words rough with need.
“Make no mistake, beautiful. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted an Omega. Ever.”
Then I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes, hoping like hell she sees it—the raw, burning need I’ve been holding back. The truth of it all, carved into every breath.
She shudders, her breath hitching, her legs spreading to accommodate me between her thighs—subconsciously pulling me closer.
This is quickly heading toward us not leaving this bed for a very long time.
“But—”
“No but ,” I cut her off, sliding my hands down her back, kneading the soft, perfect curves of her hips. “You are perfect. And we want to be there for you, sweetheart.”
I say that last part with a slow, deliberate thrust of my hips, grinding my now very hard cock against her core.
She lets out the prettiest, breathy moan I’ve ever heard and arches into me, like her body needs mine.
She’s staring at me like I just rewrote her whole damn world for her.
“Are you sure?” she whispers.
My chest tightens.
“Sweetheart, I’ve never been more fucking sure of anything in my life,” I say honestly.
And then I bring my hand down to her mound, palming her through her shorts, grinding the heel of my palm into her clit.
The friction has her hips bucking, her breath catching, and I swear—she’s already close to coming for me.
She gasps, her hands flying to my shoulders, her body melting against me, the scent of her need blooming thick in the air.
“Fuck,” I growl, wanting to bury myself so deep inside her, fill her with my knot so she feels me for a week.
“Quinn…” she breathes, taking my hand and guiding it into her shorts.
I groan, letting my forehead rest against hers as my fingers trail down, finding her soaked slit. She’s drenched—needy, swollen, her pretty little pussy practically begging for me.
I sink one finger into her folds but don’t press inside. Just tease. Just feel her.
“Quinn…oh god.”
The way she says my name—breathless, wanting, hesitant but desperate—nearly makes me lose my fucking mind.
She’s pinned beneath me, and I rise onto one elbow, dragging my hand from between her legs to fist in her hair, dragging her head back so I can kiss her.
Deep. Demanding. I kiss her mouth like I want to fuck her body. It’s tender and rough, playful and consuming all in one.
She melts into it, into me, surrendering so sweetly it moves me.
But I don’t let it go any further. Even if it’s fucking torture.
Because as much as I want her, as much as I want to bury myself inside her, knot her, claim her until my scent is all she knows, there’s something I want to do more and the day is not going to wait for us.
I pull back, dragging my lips over her jaw, nipping lightly at her pulse.
She whimpers, arching up, chasing my mouth.
I chuckle darkly. “As much as I’d love to spend the whole day getting to know your sweet pussy, we have a date.”
She blinks up at me, dazed. “What?” Her sleepy, lust filled pouty look is adorable.
I grin, kissing her once more on the tip of her nose before rolling off her, grabbing her hand.
“Come with me, sweetheart,” I murmur. “I have a surprise for you.”