Getting Fucked
Tansy
I'm on my back, the world upside down.
My ass hangs off the edge of the bed, my legs draped over Cass's powerful forearms, my feet dangling in the cool air. He's standing over me, his body a solid wall of muscle and heat while he fucks me slowly.
Each thrust is deep, deliberate, a possessive stroke that fills me completely before pulling back, leaving me achingly empty for a split second before he fills me again.
It's a maddening, exquisite rhythm.
Cass’s dark eyes lock on mine, his face a mask of intense concentration. I watch his expression shift, his jaw tightening, then his breath hitches. With a final, deep shove, he buries himself to the hilt and stills. A low groan rumbles from his chest as he comes, and then I feel it.
His knot.
It swells inside me, a pressure that builds and builds, stretching me, claiming every inch of me until it locks us together. It balloons against my inner walls, a perfect, full pressure that hits a spot so deep inside me I see stars.
A sharp, blinding burst of pleasure explodes through my body, my back arching off the bed as a wild scream tears from my throat.
It's so fucking good, an overwhelming, all-consuming wave of ecstasy that washes away every thought, every fear, until there is nothing left but the feeling of him, thick and impossibly present inside me.
Slowly, the blinding intensity fades, melting into a warm, golden afterglow.
My body relaxes, sinking back into the mattress, boneless and sated. His knot is still there, a heavy, comforting anchor holding me to my mate, and my body settles around it, a perfect, intimate fit. A tangible link of our new bond.
And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
The sensation is comforting in a way I didn’t expect, but it’s also terrifying.
I mean, logically, I'm trapped. Bound to an alpha that forced a bond on me, and that thought should terrify me, but I've never felt safer.
My body fully trusts this man.
I literally crave his touch.
That contradiction sits heavy in my chest.
But it’s all a lie, isn’t it? After all, he forced his fangs deep into my skin without any care for what I wanted. He didn’t ask if I wanted him or his pack, he just took my body like it belonged to him.
Deep down I know it’s too late to change any of it, that we’re already mated, and it would just be easier to accept my fate, but the thought still needles sharper the longer it sits there.
"Tansy," Cass whispers my name as his large hand caresses between my breasts. His thumb drifts, stroking over one sensitive nipple before slipping lower and splaying across my belly. A possessive, comforting weight. His touch is so gentle. Concerned.
I look up at him, and the softness in his expression is gone, replaced by a flicker of concern. He's studying my face, his eyes searching mine.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice quiet but firm.
I shake my head, not wanting to enrage the alpha while he’s lodged inside me.
"I can feel that something's off in our bond." He shifts his hips slightly, and his knot presses deeper inside me, making me gasp. "Is your heat settling?"
It’s a pointless question because he already knows the answer.
He can feel it in our bond.
He’s inside my head now, feeling what I feel, a wildly intimate intrusion that can never be taken back.
“You’re in my head,” I grit out, unable to stop myself from sounding so angry. “You already know my heat is over.”
Cass’s brow furrows. He doesn’t move, but his focus sharpens, eyes narrowing at my face. “I know,” he says carefully. “But I can feel you winding up.”
“That’s none of your business,” I snap. The words come out sharper than I mean them to, but I don’t take them back. “You don’t get to monitor me.”
His jaw tightens a fraction. “It is my business,” he says. “You’re spiking. Anger. Fear. You’re pushing against our bond so hard that it’s starting to hurt.”
“That’s because you’re in my head,” I shoot back. “Because I can’t think without you feeling it. Because I don’t get a single private thought anymore.” My hands curl into fists at my sides. “You didn’t ask if I wanted that. You just took it.”
Cass exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep pace with me instead of cutting me off. “Tansy—”
“You forced a bond,” I say, the words tumbling over each other now. “You forced your way into my body and my head and my life, and now you’re standing there acting all concerned like you didn’t do anything wrong.”
That’s when he stills completely.
Not angry. Not defensive. Just…frozen.
“I didn’t force shit,” he says, his voice low but steady. “You offered me your neck. I asked you if you were sure, and you said yes.” His eyes hold mine, unwavering.
The certainty in his tone knocks the breath out of me.
“That’s—” I start, ready to argue. “I didn’t—”
And then it hits me.
A memory surfacing through the haze. Cass’s voice, rough but careful, asking me a question.
You want my mark?
My anger stutters, then falters entirely, shock quickly flooding in.
I remember it all now. The desperate, burning need. The way I begged for Cass to claim me, to make me his.
I remember arching my back, presenting my body to him like an offering, craving his knot with a hunger that bordered on pain.
I wanted him.
The memory is so vivid, so potent, that it feels like it's happening all over again.
While I relive every shameful moment, Cass’s hand continues its slow, soothing caress over my skin, a stark, confusing contrast to the storm raging inside me.
"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "Breathe, Tansy."
But I can't. I'm too shocked to react, too horrified by my own forgotten desire.
My body is a fucking traitor.
I suck in a deep breath as the pressure inside me lessens.
Cass's knot goes down, shrinking until it's no longer an anchor.
He takes a step back, and the sudden emptiness is a cold shock as his semi-hard cock falls from my body.
A trickle of our combined release follows, a warm, sticky reminder of what we just did.
He looks down at me, his expression unreadable.
"We need to clean you up," he says a little too casually. As if my entire world wasn’t shattered. “Come on, omega.” He reaches down and catches my wrist before I can move away.
Irritation crackles through me now that my mind is clear. It’s a welcome defense against the shock and humiliation.
"I can clean myself up," I say as I push myself up onto my elbows. I don't need his help. I don't need his gentle hands or his casual tone.
I need him to leave me alone.
A slow, boyish smile spreads across his face, telling me he’s not having it. “You’re not walking around right after your heat,” he says quietly as he moves in close, one arm sliding under my knees and the other bracing my back, lifting me with careful ease.
I gasp at the sudden motion, more from surprise than fear, as he draws me against his bare chest, solid and warm.
“I said I can clean myself up.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, edged with leftover heat and bruised pride. “I’m not helpless.” I push at his solid chest, but it's like trying to move a mountain.
Cass simply chuckles, the vibration rumbling through my body. “I never said you were.”
He carries me into the adjoining bathroom, his movements sure and deliberate. He sets me down on my feet, but keeps his hands on my waist, caging me in against the cold tile of the counter. His eyes dance with amusement. "Now, you're going to let me take care of you. Understood?"
I bare my teeth in a snarl, a low growl rumbling in my own chest. "Get. Off."
Instead of anger, a flicker of pure, unadulterated amusement moves through our bond, a warm, teasing current that only makes me angrier.
Cass smiles wide as he releases me, turning to limp over to the glass-walled shower. I watch him, my arms crossed over my chest, as he fiddles with the knobs.
He’s putting too much weight on his left leg.
"You're going to fuck up your knee," I say, my words sharp and clipped.
Water roars to life, steam beginning to curl through the air. He glances over his shoulder at me, a brow raised. "Do you always talk like that?"
I blink, confused. “Like what?”
A corner of his mouth tips up. “With a dirty fucking mouth.” He studies me for a beat, his hand moving under the spray, testing the temperature. “Where’d you learn to talk that way?”
I don’t answer. I just lift my chin. “Why? Does it fucking bother you?”
Cass’s smile spreads, slow and satisfied. “No,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate growl that sends a jolt straight to my core. “I fucking like it.”
His words catch me completely off guard, and my mind stumbles, trying to process them.
Alphas aren’t supposed to like mouthy omegas. They crave flawless mates, demanding that we act like perfect little things who float through life on clouds of lilies and sweetness.
We aren't supposed to curse, or show anger, or even use the bathroom.
We're supposed to be pretty and placid.
He must be fucking with me.
But before I can dwell on it for too long, Cass scoops me up again. He puts one arm behind my back and the other under my knees, then he carries me directly into the shower.
The hot water sprays over my skin, making me gasp at the sudden heat.
It feels really good.
Cass eases onto the shower bench so I’m straddling his lap, taking extra care of this bad leg. As he moves, I feel the soft, weighty length of his limp cock pressed between us, trapped against my stomach.
A jolt of unwanted excitement shoots through me. My body thrums with a low, insistent need, a traitorous echo of the heat that's supposed to be over.
The betrayal of my own flesh makes me furious, and I quickly snip, "I hope carrying around my fat ass breaks your fucking knee.”
Our bond thrums with Cass’s amusement. Then he smacks one ass cheek with one playful, wet tap.
"I like your fat ass," he says, his voice a low, confident rumble.
I freeze, both offended and flattered.