Page 65 of The Florist and Her Alphas

I suck her clit gently between my lips. Her back bows off the bed, a strangled moan tearing out of her, and her hands find my hair, fisting hard. I suck harder. My tongue flicks against the swollen nub, fast and firm, and her thighs start to shake.

“I can feel you getting close,” I murmur against her pussy. “Your clit is so hard in my mouth. So fucking swollen. You’re going to come on my tongue, omega. And then I’m going to breed you just like you need.”

Her hips buck against my mouth.

“Oh god!” she screams as I hold her down and suck harder, my tongue working her clit in rough, wet circles, and she comes against my mouth with a sharp, surprised cry—her thighs clamping around my ears, her hands fisting in my hair.

I work her through it. My tongue gentles, lapping at the fresh wave of slick she pours out for me, slow and thorough, and she is shaking.

“Mhm, you taste fucking phenomenal.”

“Ezra, oh my god,” she gasps over and over. I love hearing my name on her beautiful rosy lips.

I don’t stop until her thighs are trembling, until her hands have gone slack in my hair, until she is panting and whimpering and begging me to stop because she can’t take it anymore.

I pull back. Look up at her over the curve of her stomach.

Her face is flushed dark red. Her eyes are wet, lashes spiky with tears. Her lips are bitten red and swollen. Her hair is everywhere, dark auburn strands stuck to her forehead and cheeks, and she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.

I climb up her body.

Her hips roll up to meet me, as my cock slides inside her slick folds, the head catching at her entrance.

“I am going to make love to you now,” I say, my voice cracking on the last word.

She nods. Once. Hard. A tear spills over.

I push inside her.

Slowly. Slowly. Watching her face as I sink into her inch by inch. Her lips part. Her eyes widen. Her breath catches, and she makes a small, broken sound that I feel in my chest.

She is so tight. So wet.

So warm around my cock that my vision whites out at the edges for half a second. I bury myself to the hilt in one smooth, careful stroke, and hold myself there. My balls press against her ass, my cock buried completely inside her, and she is so full, so stretched around me, that her back arches off the bed.

I begin to move.

Long, deep strokes. Every withdrawal almost all the way out, every thrust all the way back in to the hilt. I watch her face. Her eyes flutter closed, then open, fixed on mine. Her lips part on a moan. Her hands find my shoulders, clutching.

I bury my face in the crook of her neck and just feel her.

Her pussy grips my cock, the inner walls clenching tighter around my dick with every thrust, milking me and pulling me deeper. She wraps her legs around my waist. Locks her ankles behind my back.

I groan against her throat, my control slipping by degrees.

I pick up my pace. The bed creaks loudly under us, the headboard knocking softly against the wall as she moans.

“Harder,” she begs. “Please, Ezra, harder.”

I fuck her harder, deeper, my hips driving into her with enough force to rock the bed frame, and I watch her tits bounce with every thrust, watch her face crumple with pleasure, watch her come apart on my cock piece by piece.

I can feel her tightening around me. Her pussy clenching rhythmically, her inner walls gripping my shaft, and I know she’s close. I can feel my knot beginning to swell at the base of my cock, thickening, stretching her entrance wider with each thrust.

“My knot is coming,” I warn her, my voice rough against her neck. “Do you want it?”

She sobs into my mouth. “Yes. Please. Yes.”

I thrust harder. Faster. The headboard knocks against the wall as I give her my cock. I can feel her tightening around me, her orgasm building, and I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit, and I rub.