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A frantic whine scrapes out of me. I buck forward, just barely managing to remember to keep my hands on the chair. Spencer likes that. His scent erupts, more glorious than ever before.
He drops his arm to band around my waist, pulling me tight to his body. His lips skim along my shoulder.
“Hush. You’ll get what you need.”
More slick seeps out of me. His teeth graze the soft part of my neck. “Do you even know what that is, Miss Swanson? Or shall I make that part of my lesson, too?”
My slick? Or what I need? I don’t really care either way. The thought of hearing him discuss my body in his detached, haughty way makes me crazy.
“Please,” I beg.
“Mm. Please, who?”
He’s toying with me. I sort of love it. Not just because it makes me wetter but because it’s a new side to him.
“Please, Professor.”
He straightens, focusing. “Very well. We’ll begin here.”
The fingers wrapped around my throat slide to the side, their pads pressing into the healed bite from Tristan. The second he touches it, a new whine bursts out of me. My hips writhe, looking for weight and pressure.
“Claiming marks,” he explains, every bit the professor lecturing a student. “They’re linked to our pleasure centers, but the connection is especially strong for omegas. So, when I do this—” He lightly scratches over the scar tissue, and my entire core clamps on air— “your body responds.”
My perfume is so thick, I can almost taste the way it swirls with his clean freshness. I think he can, too. Every time he exhales, a slight purr rumbles on his breath.
His control remains absolute, though. Which is impressive, with his cock pulsing against the back of my thigh and his pants drenched in slick. Something about his steadiness makes this feel even safer than it already did.
One second later, he brings his mouth to the tingling mark, scraping his teeth against it until I whimper.
“When you have all of our claims on you,” he half-growls, “stimulating them at the same time will be an interesting experiment.”
I gasp at the thought, relishing the way his scent pours into my lungs. So clean and thick. It’s like a balm for all the hyperventilating I did earlier, cooling any lingering sting.
But it’s also too good. My nipples harden to the point of pain, and I struggle, shifting as much as I can without moving my hands. Need edges my perfume. His chest rumbles louder.
“You need more.”
It isn’t a question, but I bob my head. He keeps his grip on my throat and moves his other hand to the curve of my belly. When he grazes his touch over my mound, I bite back a frustrated scream.
“This pussy seems very needy, Miss Swanson,” he comments, dry and disapproving. “Perhaps if I teach you what it requires to be properly satisfied, we can avoid dousing another pair of my pants.”
I can’t tell if he’s still teasing or if he’s actually annoyed—and right now? I can’t care. Molten arousal dribbles from my center, and I moan, grinding my ass along his hard cock.
Spencer’s fingers finally drift over my spread lips, tracing the swollen, soaked edges. He snarls under his breath, stiffening beneath me. When he speaks, his even tone just makes me more desperate for him.
“This is perfect omega slick,” he hums. “Silky and slippery. Exemplary, really. Very good, Miss Swanson.”
I moan quietly, squirming to get more friction from his hand. He ignores me, dipping two fingers into my folds and skimming them over my entrance. It cinches tight, my pussy clenching in desperate squeezes.
His put-on disapproval returns. “You’re too tight. We’ll have to work on that.”
Spencer’s fingertips press inside. Just a bit. Just enough to make me crazy. I start to let go of the chair but force myself to hold on, crying out from the way my fingers ache and the feel of him pushing into me.
“And here, about three inches in—” His words break off as he finds his mark, touching a place inside of me that whites out my vision and forces a shrill whine. Another tumbles out half a breath later when he hooks those fingers against the front wall of my pussy and starts to rub in a wide oval.
Everything burns and buzzes. My nipples feel like sharp darts of pain, my thighs quiver from straining, and my knuckles start to scream. But Spencer’s mouth lands on that godforsaken claiming mark again, his lips dragging in time with the fingers inside of me.
“This is where you’ll take my knot,” he says into my skin. “It will expand to fill you. Here.” He finds a new spot to torment and I whimper. “And here.” Everything starts to gel and tighten. “But most especially here.”
