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Knotted By The Irish

Page 47

by Imani Jay

“Fuck, look at you.”

“Shut up…”

“Look at you. Dripping all over my cock.” I bite the back of her neck. “Come, wife.”

She comes screaming. And I don’t stop. I flip her on her back, place her ankles on my shoulders, and watch her face while I fuck her through her orgasm. And when my knot swells, I shove deep and, put my mouth on my bite and I come so hard I go fucking blind.

When I can see again, my woman’s under me laughing. Shaking. Fucking wrecked.

“I’m not done with you.”

We’re knotted. Zahra’s dozing. I’ve got my nose in her hair. And I catch something under her scent. Way under. Not slick, not sex, not sweat. Warmer. Rounder. Sweeter. So faint I lose it if I breathe too hard.

Heat.

I know.

Soon.

I know, brother.

She stirs, yawns, stretches. “Why’re you sniffing me like that?”

I press a kiss to her temple. “Go back to sleep.”

She lifts her head. “Declan. What is it?”

Shit.

I hold her eyes. “You smell different. It’s early. But it’s coming.”

She frowns. Then her whole face changes. “No. Uh-uh. It’s not for two more months. I’m scheduled. I’m medicated.”

I kiss her again, on the mouth this time. “You were medicated before you met me.”

Her eyes go round. “Oh, my God.”

I try to give her a reassuring smile. “Yeah.”

“Oh, my God.” Her hand’s pressed low on her belly. “How long would you say?”

“Ten days. Maybe less.”

“Ten days?! Declan, I have the motion. I have a hearing on the fourteenth, I…”

“And you got a mate who’s filing a request with the warden the second you walk out that door. Forty-eight hours. Bonded heat accommodation. Overnight.” My hand comes to rest over hers on her soft belly. “You’re gonna spend those forty-eight hours in a nest, on my knot. Then you’re going back to work.”

She stares at me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers.

“Like what?”

“Like that. You’re thinking loud.”

I smirk. Forty-eight hours. No knock. No fucking clock. My omega in heat, in my arms, fucking begging for it. My wolf’s on his back with his legs in the air.

“I’m not gonna make it ten days,” Zahra whispers, then she pulls my face down to hers.