Chapter Eleven #3
I’m too dizzy. Too wrung out, too pheromone-drunk, my limbs too heavy and my thoughts too scattered to form a coherent objection.
I make a weak sound as he settles back between my legs—something that starts as a “no” and dissolves into a shapeless plea halfway through—and then his mouth seals over my hole and every thought in my head goes blank.
My spine bows off the mattress, my shoulders pressing hard into the pillow, and a cry tears from my throat that I don’t recognize as my own voice.
His tongue is on me, against me, working my rim with a skill and focus that shouldn’t be possible for someone deep in rut—lapping up the slick that’s flowing freely from my hole, sucking at the puffy, swollen flesh of my rim, flicking rapidly across nerve endings that are so oversensitized from pregnancy and arousal that each pass of his tongue sends shockwaves radiating up through my pelvis and into my chest. He eats me out like he’s starving for it, like my slick is the only thing that can satisfy whatever the rut is doing to him, groaning against my hole as he drinks it down, the vibration of the sound buzzing through my most sensitive tissue and making me writhe.
Then his tongue pushes inside me.
It spears past my loosened rim and into my passage, hot and wet and impossibly intimate, and my senses go completely haywire.
I grab the sheets with one hand, twisting the fabric until my knuckles ache, and my other hand finds Hyunwoo’s hair and fists in it, gripping tight, holding on because I feel like I’m going to fly apart.
Sounds spill from my mouth that I have no control over—helpless, breathy moans and sharp keens and desperate little cries that I’d be mortified by if I had any capacity for shame left, which I don’t, because his tongue is inside my ass and his pheromones are pressing down on me like a weighted blanket and I can’t do anything but take it.
His tongue curls inside me, pressing against my walls, and then crooks upward and drags against my prostate, and I come again with a high, broken cry that cracks in the middle.
My hole spasms around his tongue, clenching and releasing in waves, and fresh slick rushes out of me in a flood that I can hear him swallowing.
He doesn’t stop. He laps and sucks and fucks his tongue into me through the entire orgasm, drinking everything my body gives him, and by the time the aftershocks fade I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering.
When Hyunwoo finally rises from between my legs, his mouth and chin are glistening with my slick, shining wet in the low light of the bedroom lamp.
His eyes are nearly black—pupils blown so wide the brown of his irises is just a thin ring around the edges, barely visible.
He looks wild and feral and completely gone, his chest heaving, his cock straining against the front of his half-open pants, a dark wet patch spreading through the fabric.
I’m winded. My whole body is trembling, my pregnant belly heaving with each breath I drag in, my thighs slick and shaking where they’re still spread open. I’ve come twice and he hasn’t even put his cock in me yet.
Hyunwoo’s hands close around my hips and flip me with a strength that should scare me but doesn’t, turning me onto my stomach in one smooth motion that somehow accounts for the belly—his palm sliding beneath my bump to guide me, a pillow appearing under my hips before my weight settles, propping me up so the pressure distributes across the cushion instead of pressing down on the baby.
Even deep in rut, even with his pupils swallowed black and his body shaking with need, some part of him is still paying attention to that. Still careful with me where it counts.
Then he yanks my hips up and back, pulling my ass high into the air, and I let him because my arms have stopped listening to my brain entirely.
They fold beneath me, my cheek pressing into the mattress, and I can’t make them do anything else.
His pheromones are everywhere—in my lungs, on my tongue, soaking into my skin through every point of contact between us—and they’re doing something to me that I’ve never experienced before, not even during my heat.
It’s like being drunk and high at the same time, my thoughts moving through syrup, my limbs weighted down with a heaviness that makes lifting my head feel like an Olympic event.
My cock is painfully hard again despite having come twice already, throbbing between my legs where it hangs beneath the curve of my belly, and slick is pouring from my hole in a near-continuous stream that I can feel running warm down my inner thighs, dripping onto the pillow beneath me, soaking into the sheets.
I’ve never produced this much in my life.
My body is responding to his rut pheromones, flooding me with arousal so intense it borders on painful, every nerve ending cranked up to a frequency that makes the brush of air against my skin feel like a touch.
Hyunwoo lines up behind me. I feel the blunt, fat head of his cock press against my entrance, nudging through the mess of slick, and then he drives in.
One stroke. All the way to the hilt.
My mouth falls open and a sound comes out of me that I’ve never made before.
Because it feels so good. Not just good—necessary, like breathing after being held underwater, like the first drink of water after days in the desert.
The thick, heavy stretch of his cock spreading my walls apart fills the aching void that’s been screaming inside me since his pheromones first hit, and my body seizes around him with greedy, desperate relief, my hole clenching tight and pulling him deeper.
My walls grip every inch of him, hot and slick and swollen, and I can feel the shape of him so clearly it’s almost too much—the ridge of the head dragging against my sensitive tissue, the thick shaft stretching me wide, the heat of him radiating through my insides.
I need more. The thought isn’t rational, isn’t considered. It’s a command from somewhere below conscious thought, from whatever ancient omega wiring has taken the wheel while my higher brain drowns in pheromones. Deeper. Harder. More.
“More,” I hear myself say, the word muffled against the mattress. I don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed because Hyunwoo is already giving it to me.
He curves over my back, his broad chest pressing flush against my spine, the heat of his skin searing through to my bones.
His arms bracket my body, his hands planted on the mattress beside my shoulders, and he starts to fuck me with the kind of force that I can feel in my teeth.
Hard, deep thrusts that slam his hips against my ass with a wet, meaty slap on every stroke, driving his cock so far into me that I swear I can feel it in my throat.
Each impact rocks me forward on the bed, my knees sliding against the sheets, and I have to brace my forearms against the mattress to keep from being shoved face-first into the headboard.
His mouth finds the back of my neck—lips and tongue pressing against the thin skin over my scent gland, sucking hard enough to bruise, and I can feel him inhaling against me between each pull of his lips, breathing my pheromones in like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to consume me through scent alone.
“Good,” he groans against my nape, the word vibrating through my vertebrae. His hips snap forward and I cry out, my fingers clawing at the sheets. “So good, Yuggie, fuck—” Another thrust, harder, punching the air from my lungs. “You feel so good, so tight, so wet for me—”
The words pour out of him unfiltered, tumbling against my skin between the wet sounds of his mouth on my neck and the relentless rhythm of his hips.
His usual control is gone. The smooth, controlled Hyunwoo who always has a smirk ready and a clever line loaded—that version of him has been replaced by something that operates on instinct and hunger and the singular drive to be as deep inside me as physically possible.
I’ve never heard him like this, never heard his voice this torn, this unguarded, cracking on the syllables of my name.
The sounds between us are obscene. The sheer volume of slick flooding from my hole has turned every thrust into a wet, squelching mess, Hyunwoo’s cock churning through it as he pistons in and out of me, the frothy mixture of slick coating his shaft and dripping from where we’re joined, splattering against my thighs and his with each impact.
I can hear the slick, filthy noise of his cock plunging into my soaked hole over and over—and the sound alone makes my face burn and my cock jerk and my walls clench tighter around him.
He shifts his angle, tilting his hips, and the head of his cock catches the entrance to my womb on the next thrust. I scream into the mattress, my whole body seizing, and come so hard my head goes blank—my hole clamping down around his driving length in violent spasms, my cock twitching weakly beneath me, barely producing anything but the orgasm itself ripping through my core with a force that makes my toes curl and my fingers go numb.
Hyunwoo growls against my neck and keeps going, fucking me through it without slowing down, and I can feel his cock starting to swell at the base even as the aftershocks are still rolling through me.