Chapter Forty-Two
Rhea
I see it, then - the shift.
The hunger darkening his gaze. The heat coiling off him like smoke.
I’m still catching my breath, legs wobbly from the very illegal amount of attention he just paid my entire body, when he stands.
And wow . He’s tall. Like, inconveniently tall. I don't know why I haven't registered it before, the way I have to tip my chin up just to look at him properly, which already feels like losing the upper hand.
“You don’t think you’re leaving this kitchen without feeling what you did to me, do you, Bambi?” he asks, voice thick and smug and 100% designed to ruin my life. “You drenched my chest. You soaked my face. And now you’re gonna deal with what you did to my cock. ”
I blink up at him, sass locked and loaded -
But then he thumbs open the top button of his jeans.
Then the next.
And the next.
Oh no.
“That’s right - keep watching,” he murmurs, and it’s so unfair, because now I’m staring. Like a creep. Like a full-on omega in a department store caught shoplifting lust. “You earned this .”
He shoves the denim down his hip s. All that muscle, carved and golden, abs tight, hips flexing, sweat slicking his chest just enough to shine under the overhead light. His cock springs free, thick and heavy and leaking against his stomach.
And I swear to god, if he grins any harder I might start throwing produce.
“You wanna be pissed?” he taunts, stepping in close enough that his scent hits me like a punch to the gut. “ Fine . Be pissed while I bend you over this table and ruin your fucking attitude with a knot you’ll never forget.”
“Okay, first of all,” I mutter, “you are entirely too proud of yourself -”
“And you ,” he interrupts, spinning me with zero warning until my front hits the table, “are dripping.”
Palms hit the wood.
Legs spread.
Ass high.
The sound he makes isn’t human as he steps back just enough to look.
“Fucking look at you . That mess - that slick - I did that.”
His hand slides up the back of my thigh - rough and reverent - then squeezes my ass, hard .
“ Shit, Bambi,” he pants, voice wrecked . “I could live here. Just right here. This perfect fuck-me pose with your cunt dripping and your back arched like you know what it does to me.”
He palms both cheeks now, kneading, spreading me wider with no shame. His thumbs drag over every inch of slick skin - over my swollen clit, right down to where I’m aching and empty.
“Christ,” he murmurs, like he can’t help it. He palms my ass again, appreciating his work. “You glisten. You fucking glow. You’re art , and I get to fuck it.”
“You proud of yourself?” I throw over my shoulder, voice ragged, barely keeping it together.
He laughs, the sound all feral and fond.
“Are you ?” he grins. “You walked down here in his shirt and that fuck-me heat pouring off your skin, and now you’re bent over his kitchen table, soaking my cock.”
“I came down for a snack !” I hiss as he spreads my legs.
“You found one,” he replies, grinding the thick length of him right between my legs as though he’s got a point to prove and a dissertation titled How to Break an Omega in Three Thrusts or Less.
He presses the tip in - just a nudge - then pulls back.
His hands slide up, rough palms dragging over my waist, up to the swell of my lower back. One moves back down, squeezing my ass again, petting me like I’m his favorite thing to touch.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice a growl against the back of my neck, pressing the thick head of his cock just barely inside again. “That hunger ? That ache ?”
I swallow hard, teeth gritted, chest heaving.
He leans in close - lips brushing my ear.
“That’s mine now.”
Then he slams forward - one devastating, brutal thrust that splits me open in the best possible way.
“Fuck - Kai!”
“ Exactly !” he moans, like I just gave the correct answer on a quiz called Who’s Ruining Who Now.
“ Ohhhhhh, shit. You are fucking tight . Hot. I swear, you were made for me. ”
His hands grip my hips like he owns them, rough and firm and shaking with restraint he clearly doesn’t plan to keep for long.
And then, he starts to move.
Slow at first. Grinding deep, like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
Then harder. Faster.
Relentless.
Like a man trying to rearrange my internal organs into the shape of his name.
The sound of it - skin on skin, my gasps, his low groans - echoes off the walls. The table shudders beneath me with every slap of his hips against my ass.
And he’s laughing. Panting and laughing.
Between moans and curse words and desperate cries, I can’t help it: I laugh, too. It bubbles up wild and ridiculous and real.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, trying to keep my arms under me.
“ Oh my god ,” Kai mimics behind me in a ridiculous high-pitched voice. “She’s so loud , officer. I had no idea my dick was this spiritually fulfilling -”
“Shut up!” I cry, laughing mid-moan.
“Make me!” he throws back gleefully, then slaps my ass like I’m a tambourine and he’s performing at the world’s horniest music festival.
He rubs my clit hard, fast, precise.
I make a sound that probably registers on the canine hearing spectrum.
“You’re - laughing,” I pant, completely undone.
“You’re moaning while you do it!” he throws back, grinning like a lunatic behind me. “You’re so pissed you’re coming - and I fucking love it.”
His hips snap harder and faster. I shriek, then laugh again.
I don’t know whether I want to punch him or marry him. Honestly, both. At once.
Preferably during a blackout caused by questionable life decisions and one too many pheromones.
“You gonna come again, Omega?” he pants. “You gonna squirt all over me while I split you open?”
His fingers slide between my cheeks, down, lower still - teasing slick skin, then pressing just lightly where I’ve already been licked raw by him.
I already know where this is going.
“Kai,” I warn, voice catching, because I’m not entirely sure whether to be offended or turned on.
Spoiler alert: It’s both.
“You loved it before,” he growls into my shoulder, grinding in like a man on a mission. “Let me stretch every part of you.”
And then - because apparently I hate myself - I let him.
His finger presses in, slow and slick and so goddamn filthy that I make an embarrassing noise that could absolutely be used as blackmail.
“ Fuck , you feel that?” he pants. “One finger back there, my cock right here - god, baby, you’re losing your fucking mind.”
No, Kai, I’m losing basic motor function, but thank you for noticing.
My knees threaten to give out. My vision goes soft at the edges. I laugh - because what else can you do when you’re riding the edge of another orgasm while a man talks you through a complete breakdown like it’s a workout routine?
“I swear to god,” I gasp. “If you say one more filthy thing, I’m going to come so hard I pass out. And then you’ll have to explain to the others why I’m unconscious with your finger in my ass.”
“Then do it,” he growls. “Come on, baby. Cry it out. Laugh through it. Ruin me .”
He doesn't stop. Not when I sob into the table. Not when my legs start trembling like a baby deer at a rave. And definitely not when I whimper something that sounds vaguely like his full government name. I’m still shaking - not from fear, not even from the aftershocks still flickering like static up my spine - but from need. From the pressure still building inside me as Kai’s hips grind harder, deeper, slower .
His cock is thick and hot inside me, the slide made sloppy with so much slick I can hear it: every wet, obscene stroke echoing through the kitchen.
I feel it - the swelling. Right at the base of him.
And then - because apparently the universe thinks I haven’t had enough - he growls.
“ Fuck, ” Kai pants, voice wrecked with it. “You feel that, baby?”
It’s stretching me already, and it’s certainly not subtle. It’s thick and swollen and frankly rude in the way it demands my body to just accept it.
“You feel my knot coming?”
“ Yes. ”
“You want it?” he growls, his hands sliding from my hips to my waist, then back again, palming my ass. “You want me to lock you down and fill you until you can’t take anymore?”
I nod frantically, forehead pressed to the table, sweat pooling at my temple, skin flushed, breath shallow.
“ Please. ”
“Say it.”
“Knot me.”
“ Again .”
“Kai, I am literally begging -”
“That’s not the line, Bambi.”
“Knot me, Alpha,” I sob. “Please. I need it - I need to feel you lock inside me -”
And then, because he has zero chill and apparently no sense of moderation, he slams forward and buries every inch of him - and his knot -into me in one devastating, borderline-illegal thrust.
It presses against my entrance, stretching me wider than I thought possible, pulling another broken scream from my throat.
“FUCK!”
My body detonates. Like, full fireworks display, grand finale, insert explosion gif here.
I can’t move. He can’t move.
We’re tied.
“Oh fuck , yes -” Kai chokes behind me, and I feel him pulse once - twice -
Then explode .
His come surges into me, thick, hot, and endless, filling me in waves. I sob sharply as the pressure builds past the seal of his knot, slipping out in messy gushes that drip down my thighs.
“You feel that, baby?” Kai pants against my neck, voice absolutely unhinged with pride. “That fill? That lock? That stretch ?”
I can’t even speak. I’m pretty sure my brain just left the building. There’s wetness everywhere - slick, sweat, tears, possibly the remnants of my sanity.
Kai leans over me, knot still twitching inside, still locking us together as his come pours into me with every pulsing beat. He buries his face in my neck, breath hot against my skin, teeth scraping lightly across my shoulder.
And fuck - I want it. More than anything.
I’d give it all if he were to sink his teeth right into the sweet spot on my neck and claim me as his forever.
His hand slides up my side, over my ribs, until it rests over my heart - still pounding like it’s trying to escape. Instead of biting down and claiming me, he presses a kiss to my shoulder like this is some sacred rite and not the filthiest weekday of my life.
“You took all of me,” he whispers, hoarse and reverent. “Every fucking drop.”
Damn right, I did.
And now, I may never walk again. My thighs are shaking. My hair is a mess. I smell like a crime scene.
And he’s still inside me, knot so big it could be used to anchor a ship.
“You’re ruined , Bambi,” he murmurs, grinning against my skin. “And you fucking love it.”
I exhale hard, limbs boneless, throat dry.
…Yeah. Okay.
I kind of do.