Chapter 21 #2
I fist my hands in his hair, not sure if I’m pushing him away or pulling him closer. He growls against me, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing over me. He’s relentless, his hands gripping my hips, holding me steady as he devours me.
He doesn’t let up.
Christ, is this what I’ve been missing? All those fumbling college hookups, the guy who finished in three minutes and asked if I came—this is what sex is supposed to feel like?
My body is slick with sweat, trembling, and some distant part of my brain is already mourning every minute I wasted not doing this with Cassian.
When his fingers slide inside, his mouth climbs higher—teasing, sucking, nipping—until I arch into him and forget my own name.
Cassian’s tongue delves deeper, drawing out another wave of pleasure. I can’t think, can’t breathe, as His fingers slide inside me, curling, finding that spot that makes my vision white out. His mouth moves to my breast, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make me arch off the couch.
“Cassian—” His name comes out broken, desperate.
Every stroke of his fingers, every pull of his mouth, winds me tighter until I’m writhing beneath him.
My body is on fire, every nerve ending sparking with electricity as he brings me to the edge and then pushes me over. Waves of pleasure crash through me, leaving me gasping and shivering.
His body is hard against mine, his skin burning hot. And his cock, heavy and insistent, pressing against my thigh, then sliding up, up, until it’s poised at my entrance. I’m throbbing, aching, desperate for him.
“Is this what you want, Jess?” He teases me, rubbing his length against my slick folds, coating himself in my wetness.
Want doesn’t even cover it. I’m so far past want I’ve circled back to need, the kind that makes you stupid and reckless and willing to beg.
“Yes,” I gasp, and I hate how desperate I sound, except I don’t, because it’s true. “God, Cassian, please—”
Cassian moves up my body, his mouth finding mine, letting me taste myself on his lips.
I want him inside me, filling me, completing me. I reach down, guiding him to my entrance.
“Yes,” I gasp, my hands grasping at his back, pulling him closer. He pushes in, just a little, and I cry out, my body stretching to accommodate him. He’s big, so thick and hard.
He whispers my name against my mouth, a plea and a promise all at once.
“Look at me,” he says, and when I do, when I meet his eyes in the flickering dark of the storm, something clicks into place. This isn’t just physical. This is us, whatever we’re becoming, whatever we’ve been circling ever since we met each other.
This is the terrifying freefall I’ve been avoiding—the one where I admit I want this, want him, want to belong to something bigger than my own carefully constructed walls. Every defense I’ve built crumbles under the weight of his gaze, and for once, I don’t scramble to rebuild them.
His body moves against mine—slow at first, careful, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. But I don’t feel fragile. I feel found. When he pushes deeper, my world narrows and my careful restraint fractures.
His hips drive forward with purpose now, each thrust a claim, a question, a demand for truth.
“Yes,” I gasp, meeting him stroke for stroke. “God, yes—”
The storm outside crashes in rhythm with us, and everything between us shifts from tender to primal, from careful to necessary.
Every thrust—hard, deep, fucking relentless—feels like a goddamn confession neither of us has the balls to say out loud. I see you. I want you. You’re not alone anymore. The words live in the space between our bodies, in the way he breathes my name like it matters, like I matter.
His cock slams into me with a precision that has my toes curling, my nails clawing at the couch, at his shoulders, everything, and my pussy clenching like it’s trying to milk every inch of him.
The air is thick with the sound of skin slapping skin, and the heady scent of sweat and slick fills my lungs, drowning me in him.
His hand at my hip is an iron grip, grounding me, dominating me, forcing me to take it, take him, take every deep pulse of his cock as it pistons in and out of me.
“Breathe.” His voice is rough like gravel dragged over my skin.
His breath is hot against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I whimper, my body trembling as the pressure coils low and tight, building, building, fucking building until I’m shaking with it.
He feels it, this goddamn Alpha, and he matches it, his hips slamming into mine with a rhythm that’s primal, feral, fucking animalistic.
His cock is a battering ram, hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust, and I can’t hold back the moans that tear from my throat, loud and filthy and utterly wrecked.
His free hand slides between us, finding where we’re joined, and when his thumb circles that bundle of nerves, I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me like the storm outside—relentless, overwhelming, leaving me shaking and gasping and clinging to him like he’s the only solid thing in existence.
For a split second, I’m terrified. Not of him, but of this—of how much I want it, how much I want him, how completely I’ve just handed over every guarded piece of myself.
Then his hand cups my face, thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t know I’d shed, and the fear dissolves into something softer. Safer.
“Come for me,” he snarls, his voice dark and commanding, and I fucking do, my body convulsing around him as the orgasm rips through me, violent and all-consuming.
My pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice, and he groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through me, fuck, fuck, fuck, as he spills inside me, hot and thick and endless.
The knot swells at the base of his cock, stretching me until I can barely breathe.
I feel impossibly full, stuffed to the edge of breaking, every pulse locking us tighter.
The world tilts.
It’s not just physical—it’s like a door opening inside my chest, flooding me with sensations that aren’t mine.
His pleasure slams into me, layered over my own until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. Fierce protectiveness. Raw need. Something that tastes like mine—safe, home.
Every throb of the knot pushes deeper, every pulse sends another wave through my body until I’m shaking from it.
Now I understand why Omegas go ga-ga after Alphas knotting in them.
Because I can feel him now—not just his body, but the weight of what this means to him. To us.
He stays there, buried deep inside me, his chest heaving, his breath ragged, and I can feel the weight of him, the heat of him, the power of him, and it’s overwhelming, intoxicating, fucking addictive.
The room smells like us—storm, salt, sweat, and something that wasn’t here yesterday.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and possessive, and I believe him, because in this moment, with his cock buried deep inside me and his knot keeping us locked together, there’s no doubt about it. I’m his, body, soul, and every shuddering breath.
His hips still, and the bond between us flares hot and unyielding, locking us together.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice breaks on it. “Jess, I—”
He doesn’t finish. Instead he buries his face in my neck, and I feel the shudder that runs through him, the way he holds me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. The knot pulses where our bodies meet.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, surprising myself. My fingers thread through his hair, holding him close. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are suspiciously bright. He kisses me instead of speaking, and I taste everything he can’t say.
I take a deep breath, letting the scent of us fill my lungs.
It’s strange how this feels so right, so natural. Like every chaotic piece of my life has been leading me to this moment, to this man, this pack.
Cassian’s thumb continues to brush the mark on my throat, sending shivers down my spine. Possessive, sure—but the tenderness under it is what gets me, stupid and soft in the chest.
The knot keeps us joined, pulsing, steady. Connected.
Rain drums against the windows, but the thunder is softening. His fingers trace idle patterns on my shoulder, following the path where his mark blooms along my neck—thumb gentle, almost worshipful.
I should feel exposed, vulnerable, embarrassed by how much I just revealed.
Instead, I feel safe. Seen. Wanted in a way that has nothing to do with my body and everything to do with who I am beneath all my defense mechanisms.
I smile against his mouth, surprising myself. “Guess I’m yours now.”
He huffs a laugh against my skin, breath warm and steady. “News to you?”
“Maybe I’m a slow learner.” My voice cracks on the words, and his arms tighten around me.
“Then I’ll teach you.” He kisses my throat. “Every day. However long it takes.”
And for once, instead of arguing, instead of building walls, or deflecting with snark or humor, I let myself believe him.