Page 62 of Knot So Social

She whines and thrashes her way out of her skirt and underwear while I set up my things within reach and grab my condoms. My bags nestle beside her cute little wicker boxes, which are loaded with more rubbers, lube, and wipes. She’s the sort of woman who prepares for everything, it seems.

And what a woman she is.

I set towels withing reach, along with my checklist and the digital thermometer, before pressing play on a small speaker already cued up with soft background music.

Willow flings one arm over her head and spreads her knees. Now completely bare, the sight of her in her nest, gaze fixed on me, hair darkening with sweat, sends a shiver down my spine. I need her, crave her, like I’ve never needed anything before.

She draws her knees up, and then I catch sight of it. Scrolled like carved artwork, dark red lines spiral around her thigh. For a split second, I think it’s a tattoo in magenta and blue ink, but then I remember her warning: don’t ask about the scars.

The ends of each mark feather out like fern branches or perhaps coral, the intertwined pieces running from her hip all the way to her knee. Obviously, it’s a traumatic thing for her, but I’ve never seen such beautiful or artistic scarring.

What happened to leave her like this? And without a heat for years?

Impatient, and succumbing to her heat, Willow rolls over, hands disappearing into the pretty sequins of her blankets. She bellies down on a pillow, arms braced on the raised rim of her bed as she wriggles up on her knees. A moment later she lets out a piteous noise and lifts her ass in the air. Presenting.

Oh fuck. My pulse takes off like a rocket.

I drop to my knees and hold her lovely ass cheeks. Silvery liquid drips from her pussy down onto the bedding, sheened with the pale glow from the fairy lights around us, and aromatic in a way I’d forgotten was possible.

“I’m here, honey. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Willow pants lightly, looking over her shoulder at me and wiggling her ass.

“You ready for me?” I ask, voice cracking with the potency of the moment. “You want me to touch you there?”

“Alpha! Fuck me,” she orders, straining with all her body.

Well, shit, when she puts it like that . . . I lift her knees up onto my thighs so her ass is higher and touch my mouth to her shaved folds. Her juices, sweet as maple syrup, flow onto my tongue. She grips the bed edge with trembling hands as I swipe my tongue inside.

“Oh! Mm!” Willow nuzzles her face into the blanket, her toes curling against my forearms.

“Such a good girl,” I purr. “So responsive to your alpha. Make noises like that, and I just can’t help myself, darlin’.”

I suck, drawing out the sweet slick.

She mewls and thrusts her ass into my face. I grip her tight and get my tongue inside, lashing at her hot entrance. When she jolts from the sensation, I nibble all the way up her seam and kiss her pucker before finding my way back to her pussy.

In her arms I’ve discovered paradise, and I’m not even dead yet.

Willow’s tight inside and I tease her with my tongue, alternating sucking and licking until she’s shaking and crying out my name. I skim one hand under her belly to find her nipples, squashed into the fluffy pillows. She spasms, pussy clenching around my tongue. Are all omegas this responsive? My cock aches to get inside her, flexing violently when I come up for air. But desperate as we both are, I need to prep her properly.

Doesn’t stop me from giving my dick a few good strokes to rebalance the pressure as I pleasure her.

The omega tenses up, head bowed and fingers fisting in her sequin rug. Her body shivers as she comes all over my tongue and my balls ache, wanting the same release. I suck harder so I don’t miss any of her delicious nectar. Her pussy flutters on my mouth and then she goes limp.

“Oh, shit,” Willow murmurs into her pillows.

I chuckle silently. “We’re only just getting started, darlin’. But I’m glad you enjoyed the entrée.”

She gasps in a breath, trembling.

Stretching over her, I lift the sequin blanket away so it doesn’t get trapped under her body. Willow feels the tug and her eyes snap open, her hand fisting in the wool as she jerks it toward her chest.

That response, and the flash of alarm in her scent . . . does she think I’m trying to steal it?

“I just want to move it a bit, darlin’,” I say, releasing the sparkly blanket right away.

She drags it up, hugging the folds to her chest.