Page 35 of Knot the Stray

Her dark eyes lock onto mine, wild and dilated. "Jake, please."

"Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me." Her nails bite into my shoulders. "Give it to me."

I push forward, sinking my hips down in one smooth, powerful thrust. Her tight walls stretch to accommodate my width. A loud groan tears from my throat as her internal muscles glove my shaft. The heat of her core wraps around me.

"Fuck, Jess." I pull back and drive deep again. "You take every inch."

"Deeper." She wraps her long legs around my waist, pulling me flush against her body. "Harder."

I establish a relentless, driving rhythm. My hips snap forward, bottoming out against her cervix. Keeping my swelling knot outside her body requires strict focus. The thick bulb bumps against her wet opening, stretching the slick ring a fraction wider on every downward stroke. Skin slaps against skin in the quiet cabin. The slick friction builds a coil of tension low in my gut.

"You wrap around me so tight." I rub my fingers across her swollen clit as I thrust. "Does the angle hit the spot?"

"Yes." She tosses her head back against the pillows, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Right there. Keep going."

"I want to give you everything you crave." I adjust my aim, grinding my hips down to maximize the friction against her sensitive nerves.

"Do it." She arches her spine, meeting my downward strokes with her own desperate upward thrusts. "Make me finish."

She screams. Her inner muscles clamping around my shaft in crushing spasms. The intense pressure shatters my restraint. I drive my hips forward with a powerful thrust, pushing my swollen knot deep inside her tight opening. The bulb locks into place. I pump my release into her core.

I collapse over her chest, burying my face in her neck to catch my breath. Waiting a few seconds, I shift my weight. I wrap my arms around her waist and roll us onto our sides. The move takes my weight off her ribs but keeps the knot locked tight inside her. We stay tangled up in the sheets, catching our breath while the fire dances in the corner

Her earlier confession about the strict foster homes echoes in my skull. A childhood denied a simple animated movie or Saturday morning show strikes a raw nerve. The ticking clock on her contract demands a real reason for her to put down permanent roots in Willowside.

An idea clicks into place. I picture the sectional sofa in the living room I share with Edward and Nolan. We possess the perfect setup to build a giant blanket fort, make a mountain of popcorn, and run a marathon of the movies she missed. Giving her the safe, warm family night she never got might act as the perfect date. I press a kiss against her bare shoulder, ready to call the guys tomorrow and put the plan in motion.

Putting Down Roots

Jessie

Gravel crunches under the tires of my van. I steer the vehicle down the long dirt driveway toward the white farmhouse, gripping the leather steering wheel. The sun dips low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the property. Winston meows from his carrier on the passenger seat, voicing his displeasure at the bumpy ride. I reach over, rubbing a finger against the plastic grating to soothe him.

My heart pounds against my ribs. Adrenaline hums through my veins. For the first time in my life, the racing pulse has zero connection to fear or a desire to run. The energy stems from certainty. I'm ready to plant my roots in this soil. I'm done running.

The ninety-day deadline on my contract expires in one week. Spending another seven days pretending I plan to leave is a waste of time. Earlier this morning, I marched into the town hall, slid a signed piece of paper across the metal desk, and notified the Willowside town board. I accepted the veterinarian position. The clinic belongs to me now. This town is my home.

I plan to spend tonight sitting these three men down to deliver the news. Leaving the heavy lifting to them isn't an option anymore. I intend to meet their eyes, tell them I'm staying, and ask for their bonding marks tonight. I want to be theirs.

Pulling the van up to the front porch, I shift the gear into park and kill the engine. I grab the handle of the cat carrier, push my door open, and hop out into the crisp evening air. The cold wind whips my hair around my face.

The heavy oak front door swings open before my boots even hit the bottom step. Jake, Nolan, and Edward stand in the entryway, offering a solid wall of muscle and warmth. All three men boast serious height, but their builds offer a distinct contrast. The intoxicating pack scent of ripe fig mixes with vetiver, black tea, and clove, rushing out of the house. The aroma wraps around my shoulders, settling my racing pulse into a steady rhythm.

"You made it." Edward offers a bright, welcoming smile, stepping aside to clear the path. A thick, styled dark beard frames his strong jaw, and a spark lights up his bright blue eyes. His broad muscled frame takes up the most room in the hall.

"So good to be off the clock and here." I step over the threshold, kicking my boots off against the welcome mat. I carry the crate into the wide hallway.

Nolan shuts the front door, locking out the wind. He pushes a lock of ear-length, chestnut brown hair behind his ear. The porch light catches the glare on his black-framed glasses, highlighting his slender build and sharp, angular features.

Jake leans down. His mid-sized athletic frame bridges the gap between Edward's bulk and Nolan's lean lines. He presses a firm, lingering kiss to my temple, his smooth, clean-shaven jaw brushing my skin. His dark hair shifts, and his brown eyes lock onto mine as he breathes in my scent.

A flurry of golden fur charges around the corner. Duke hits the hardwood floor, his nails clicking a rapid beat. The retriever spots the plastic carrier in my hands. He drops his front elbows to the ground, his tail wagging a mile a minute, letting out a sharp bark of pure excitement.

"Let's play this safe." I lift the plastic carrier higher to set the crate onto a small decorative wooden table in the hallway.

My vet brain always defaults to a cautious introduction. Giving the cat the high ground prevents any accidental trampling, even with their solid track record. Reaching over, I squeeze the metal prongs and pull the wire door open.