Chapter 19
Graham
The interstate hums beneath us. I’m still riding the high of the warehouse tour. Of watching Lark move through her space. She’s so confident. Smart. Passionate. It’s incredibly sexy.
I can’t wait to talk to her about my own work. I have a feeling she’d challenge it. Ask the right questions. See the beauty in it.
Silas’s hand rests loosely on her thigh while he drives. I’m trying not to be disappointed by that. It makes sense. There are three of us and only one of her. We’ll have to share.
Still.
I’d hoped she’d choose to sit in the back with me.
He takes her hand in his. Then he stiffens.
“Lark.”
Something in his voice makes my alpha punch against the inside of my ribs.
He slides his hand higher, pressing his palm to the side of her neck. “You’re burning up.”
I lean forward from the backseat. “Beautiful?”
She turns toward me slowly. The overhead lights from passing cars sweep through the cabin and illuminate her face in flashes. Sweat beads above her parted lips. And her eyes—
God.
Her pupils are blown so wide there’s barely any color left. The gold flecks I love are swallowed whole.
Her scent thickens in the enclosed space. Caramel, yes, but sharper now. Saltier. Heated. It fills my lungs and sinks straight into my bloodstream.
This is what happens when an omega spends an entire day wrapped in her alphas’ scents. Close contact. Touch. Emotional stimulation. I've read three papers specifically on accelerated heat onset in newly scent-matched omegas. Three papers. I should have seen this coming two hours ago.
Her body is accelerating toward heat whether she wants to or not. The guilt hits fast and hard.
She’s having one helluva spike and I didn’t prepare for it. And now we’re boxed in at seventy miles an hour.
She inhales sharply, fingers trembling as they fumble at her seatbelt.
“Need…” Her voice is barely there.
Silas’s jaw tightens. “I can’t pull over.”
Heavy traffic traps us on all sides. We’re moving too fast to pull over for her to safely move to the back.
She turns again, this time fully, twisting in her seat to look at me over the console. Her golden gaze finds mine.
“You.”
The word splits me open. I forget, for a moment, that Saint is beside me. That Silas is driving. That we're doing seventy on an interstate. For one second it's just her eyes and that word and the thing cracking open in my chest.
“Fuck,” Saint mutters beside me.
She tugs harder at the buckle, breath coming in short, uneven pulls. There’s no focus in her eyes now. Just instinct. Her omega is in full control.
“Help her,” Silas growls.
I lean forward immediately, bracing one hand on the back of her seat while the other reaches for the clasp. My fingers brush her hip. Hot, so hot. I press the release. The belt snaps free.
She sags forward, already trying to climb over the console.
“Easy,” I murmur, even though my own pulse is hammering.
Beside me, Saint hasn’t moved an inch. His shoulders are locking in place while Lark’s scent coils through the car.
He won’t budge, jaw clenched, but I know his alpha instincts are screaming to claim, to knot, to give in to the pull.
They’re the same instincts I’m feeling. But I’m not stubborn like Saint.
I know when heaven is right in front of me.
I twist toward him. His body is rigid, eyes dark. “Help me get her back here.”
Not a request.
She’s already halfway over the console, reaching for me. And there is not a single part of me that hesitates.
“Come here, beautiful.” I pull her into my lap so that she’s facing forward. She smells like hot caramel and salt and something earthier underneath. Her omega is in full bloom. It hits the back of my throat like something I want to drown in.
“Let us get these pants off you.” In my haste, I fumble with the buttons on her waistband.
“For god’s sake,” Saint growls before leaning forward and undoing them.
She leans as far back into my chest as she’s able to while I lift her hips and Saint tugs down her jeans. They get stuck on her shoes, so he bends down and pulls those off, too.
“Tell me what you need, Lark,” I huff. My cock is so hard it hurts as she grinds her dripping cunt on my lap like she’s trying to fuck me through my clothes.
“Knot,” she whines.
A collective groan fills the car.
A wave of panic crashes into me. We talked about this. She gave the green light. But green light as a last resort and green light freely chosen are two different things and I know the difference.
I've thought about this. Our first time. I wanted her to want me. Specifically me, Graham, the man, the one who stays up too late reading about drug interactions and the psychology of color on omegas’ moods. Not just the nearest available alpha knot while her body holds her hostage.
I wanted her to pick me.
I mean, she is picking me. She pointed right at me. But is that her, or is that her omega?
I don't know. And she can't tell me right now. And she needs me.
So I push it down and I help her.
“Are you sure?” Saint’s voice is shredded. “Let’s see if his fingers will work, instead.”
She vigorously shakes her head. “No. Knot. Now.”
“Shh,” I say against her ear. “I’ve got you. Lay back and let me help.”
Saint helps me move her legs apart and I ease my arm around her, two fingers on her nub. She bolts upright, slapping at the sleeves on my coat.
“Hurts.”
Why the hell did I wear this scratchy jacket? An omega's skin can't take it. I fumble to yank it off. I have one arm free when Lark's keening whine fills the car. Slick gushes from her as a brutal cramp twists her body, soaking straight through to drench my pants.
“Fuck. I’ll do it,” Saint huffs. He angles his body, so that he can ease her with his good hand. She struggles against him.
“No,” she whines. It tears through my chest. She’s hurting and I can’t take it anymore.
Silas must feel the same. His bark cuts through the car like a whip. “Give our omega what she’s fucking begging for, Graham.”
Saint’s eyes widen but he helps me lift her enough so that I can undo my pants and push them down my hips.
I reach between her thighs. She’s soaked. I don’t have to do anything to ready her, but I dip my fingers inside anyway. She leans her head back on my shoulder and grinds into my hand.
“More.” A plea. Low and slow. “Knot. I need—”
“Give her your fucking knot,” Silas nearly barks from the front seat.
I lift her hips again and position myself at her entrance, and then I slip in.
She stills. The first inch sinks in with a wet, obscene sound.
She’s molten. So tight it makes my eyes roll back, but so slick I keep sliding deeper whether I want to or not.
I know my cock is longer than normal. Omegas are made for knots, but I don’t want to hurt her.
“Deeper,” she grunts.
I give her every inch in one slow stroke until I’m buried as deep as I can go. She immediately starts to ride, leaning forward and holding on to Silas’ headrest. She takes me like she was made for it. Her muscles clamp and suck, urging me deeper.
“Fuck… fuck,” I groan.
“Knot,” she whimpers as she rocks back and forth chasing the knot that isn’t locked yet. I’ve never been this hard in my life.
“For fuck’s sake,” Saint growls. “Make her come or I’m going to do it for you.”
I feel my knot swelling, catching at her entrance. “I’ve never knotted an omega,” I rasp.
“You won’t hurt her,” Silas says. Certain.
But what if I do? What if she regrets it?
Lark reaches back, placing her hand on my wrist. “Deeper,” she urges.
Saint says nothing, just grabs her hip with his good hand and shoves her down at the same moment I thrust up. Her pussy resists for one second, then my knot locks inside.
Tomorrow, she may hate me for this. Hate that her need drove us to this. But now? Her scent spikes. It’s thick and desperate and completely overwhelming. My own scent answers. Chocolate and hazelnut flooding the enclosed space. We smell amazing together.
Her pussy clamps and flutters around me. “Oh shit, that’s—”
“Graham, don’t you fucking stop until she comes.” Saint tilts forward, placing two fingers at her entrance once more.
To her he says, “Let’s see if you can climb over the edge.”
I grind into her as much as I can. We’re locked into place, so our movement is limited, but Lark continues to struggle, inching closer to the edge.
“Yes,” she cries, clutching onto Saint’s bad shoulder for support. He winces but continues to rub tight, mean circles on her swollen clit.
“Omega, I want you to come for your alpha,” Silas growls from the front seat. I catch the angle of the mirror and realize what he's doing. Watching us. Watching her.
Our pack alpha, driving seventy miles an hour, keeping us safe, and refusing to miss a single second of this.
“I’m so—” She rolls her hips again, tightening her grip on Saint’s shoulder. He bears it and continues until she’s soaring over the edge. And I’m right there with her. I empty inside her in waves, each one pulling a sound from me I don't recognize.
She falls back against my chest. I wrap my arm tightly around her.
“Feel better, beautiful?”
When she doesn’t answer, Saint whispers. “She’s asleep.”
He sniffs his slick-smeared fingers once, jaw tight, then wipes them on his T-shirt and adjusts himself before slumping back into his seat. I don’t think he meant to do that. Maybe doesn’t even realize he did.
I’m still locked inside her. She snuggles against me and the tight heat where we’re joined sends a slow pulse through my body. A purr starts, low and continuous and completely involuntary. She makes a small sound and burrows closer. I decide this is the best moment of my life so far.
We ride like that until we reach East Rock.
Though I’m still slightly inflated, I’m able to slide out carefully.
A mixture of slick and cum leaks onto my legs.
I don’t mind. It smells like her. And me.
Caramel and chocolate all tangled up together.
I would bathe in it if she would let me.
Although, I think my department chair might have objections to that.
“Lark, let’s wake up and get you dressed,” I urge. She’s groggy but rouses enough to wiggle her panties back on. She leaves her jeans on the floor along with her shoes. I manage to pull my pants up before she’s snoring softly in my arms once again.
When we pull in the garage, Saint is out of the car the second we stop, door hanging open behind him. Silas opens my door and helps me out. I carry her to my room. I’m not ready to let her go and I’m not sorry about it.