Page 71 of The Florist and Her Alphas

I come apart against his mouth with a broken whimper. My thighs tremble around his ears. Fresh slick spills out of me in a wave that he laps up greedily, his mouth never leaving me, his fingers still working me through my orgasm.

He gentles me down. Kisses my inner thigh. Kisses my mound. Licks one more long, slow stripe through my folds, making me gasp and twitch, and only then does he pull back.

He stands up slowly. Kisses me with my own taste on his tongue, pushing it into my mouth, making me taste myself.

“You’re delicious,” he whispers against my lips.

I moan. My whole body is still trembling.

He walks me over to the leather chesterfield in front of the unlit fireplace and lays me down on it. The leather is cool against my overheated skin.

He stands at the foot of the couch. Undresses to fully knot me, quickly pulling his t-shirt over his head. His chest is lean and golden, softer than his brothers’. As he pushes his pajama pants down, I look at him. His cock is hard and flushed, leaking against his stomach. He removes his glasses and sets them carefully on the side table.

The lines of his poetry tattoo run down his right side from his ribs to his hip, small script in black ink. I trace it with my eyes.

He climbs onto the couch over me. Careful with his weight. Kisses my shoulders. Kisses my breasts. Sucks one tight pink nipple into his mouth and rolls it on his tongue.

I arch off the couch, my lower belly clenching with need and fire from my heat.

“I want you. I need you now,” I gasp. Then his cock presses against my pussy, and he leans down, his mouth to my ear.

“Your pussy is mine now,” he says, low and rough. He slides into me slowly. Carefully. Watching my face.

We both gasp at the same time when he sinks in to the hilt. He fits inside me differently from the others—gentler, deeper somehow, like he was made to be exactly where he is.

He begins to fuck me slowly. Whispering my name against my lips. Kissing me in time with his thrusts. “So wet for me, you’re going to ruin my couch. And I want you to.”

My breathy moans turn desperate within minutes. I’m gripping his shoulders. Begging him quietly for more.

He gives me more. Then slows down. Gives me less. I whine.

He laughs softly against my throat. Pauses mid-thrust, buried inside me to the hilt, bracing himself on his forearms above me.

He looks down at my face. His blue eyes have gone almost black.

“Your pretty wet pussy is squeezing me so hard,” he says against my mouth, low and rough. “This soft little sound you keep making in my ear. You are mine.”

I make a small, wrecked sound against his throat. Pull him down to me and kiss him hard. I feel most comfortable with August. I know he won’t ever judge me.

“Please keep going,” I whisper, unable to think straight. “Please. I want your knot.”

He thrusts harder and deeper into me.

“Fuck,” he growls out as he pistons into me and his cum spills deep inside my womb. I clench hard to keep him there, and suddenly the base of his cock swells, locking us together. The stretch of his cock inside of me is such a relief.

I lie there gasping and happy at last.

“God, your knot feels so good,” I moan, feeling his cock spurt more cum inside of me, cooling down the raging inferno of my heat.

He rubs my belly softly, over the bulge of his cock. “You look so beautiful and full. Wish I had my phone with me to take a picture of your belly swollen with my knot, but we’ll have the rest of our lives to do that.”

Eighteen

JULIAN

I’m standing in the middle of Liana’s flower shop with my arms crossed over my chest, watching four men in black tactical gear systematically dismantle and rebuild the security system of the only place Liana has ever called home, and I’m trying not to think about how much she’s going to hate me for this.

The front window catches the late afternoon light.