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“I want it,” I beg, breathing hard. “I want you to knot me.”
But he shakes his head. “It’s too much,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to knot you alone. I want one of the guys here in case something happens, and I?—”
I can’t exactly argue with him. He is huge. Twice as wide as me, over a foot taller. Solid muscle and plenty of padding, to boot.
Still, I press my pussy up into the mass expanding at the base of his length. “I want you, though,” I practically cry. “Please.”
His eyes flare with panic, even as his face crumbles, the longing plain in every feature. “Manamea, I?—”
“Knot her, Jonah.”
We both still at the low, even voice that speaks from the threshold of the room.
Tristan stands there in nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants. Arms crossed, leaning into the doorjamb, he looks rumpled and gorgeous in the half-light.
Did he… stay up all night? Sitting in the hallway? To make sure we were okay in here?
One glance into his deep blue eyes tells me yes. He did.
He approaches the bed slowly, each step measured and smooth. “I’m right here, Jonah,” he says, calm. “I’ll make sure you don’t accidentally hurt her.”
Part of me wants to tell him there have been dozens of times when he’s hurt me and he couldn’t even tell. So why he thinks he’s qualified to act as my emotional barometer is beyond me.
Then again, if it will make Jonah more comfortable, how can I say no?
Especially right now. When his huge, thick cock is splitting me in half for the second time tonight, and all I can think is more, deeper, now.
Until that horrible voice hisses, Just a silly little?—
But no.
I tell it no.
Because Jonah loves me. He said so. And even if I hadn’t believed him, I would now, when he examines every curve of my features for any trace of hesitation.
I love him, too. And I know how much it will mean to him to have this memory with me.
“The Senator can watch,” I whisper, trying for a teasing smile that must look a little crazy, considering how desperate I feel with his thickness lodged wide and hard and way too still inside me.
Tris drifts closer, and Jonah exhales against my neck. His rough palm practically covers my entire thigh while he rubs sweetly at the trembling muscles.
“You sure, hummingbird? You want my knot?”
I twine my arms around his neck. “Yes. Please, Alpha.”
With a quiet groan, Jonah shifts his hips, reminding me just how deep and thick he really is. Fuck. I really hope I’m not being too cavalier about?—
Oh.
OH!
A shrill whine splits the air when Jonah tilts his hips and shoves the top half of his knot past the tight ring quivering at my entrance. An odd mix of pain and pleasure buzzes through my body—my internal muscles singing with joy while the ones stretched around his girth scream in protest.
When Jonah turns to stone again, the pain wins out, and I whimper. He tenses, bracing to rip himself out.
But Tristan’s hand lands on his packmate’s shoulder at the same second his other palm finds the crown of my head. “Shhh, sweet one,” he soothes, gazing down at me. “Jonah’s not going to stop.”
Then, to his packmate. “If you pull back now, you’ll only hurt her more. Press all the way in and she’ll be much better.”
