All the way to the knot, which was bulging at the base. Thicker than the rest of him, it was a hint darker than most of his skin. Maybe a bit redder, too.
It was way too much to fit, but I wanted it.
I was borderline desperate to try.
That familiar, uncomfortable twist began in my stomach but shot down to my core. I tossed my head back, needing it to go away. He could make it, by fucking me the way I’d asked him to.
“Alpha, make him do it,” I begged.
My vision was blurry with need. Leighton rounded the bed and crawled onto it, settling down beside my head. Her scent became more potent, smoky vanilla cream when mixed with Ambrose’s desire.
“I can’t tell him what to do, dove,” Leighton murmured.
Her fingers stroked through my hair. She was aroused too—so much I could almost taste her core on my tongue—but she wasn’t paying any attention to herself. Only to me.
I tried to turn and bury my face against her chest, but Ambrose’s hand latched around my throat.
Adrenaline stampeded through my system. The bruising wasn’t fresh, but was still healing. He was careful, but the light grip was a reminder of when it had been more—when I’d fucked up, and he’d almost had to live with the guilt of killing me for it.
Except this time, his eyes weren’t dark and unseeing. They were dark with lust, his cock throbbing between my spread thighs.
And my reaction wasn’t fear, aside from the millisecond of instinctual response.
It was arousal.
My head pushed up, bumping my throat against his hand in a bid for more pressure. He refused to give it, but I assumed it was only because of my injury. When he’d grabbed Leighton’s throat, it had been roughly.
“Careful, princess,” he said. “You’re still hurt, but you need to understand something. Right now? You pay attention to me. I’m the one who’s fucking you. My doll is going to tease you and comfort you, yes. But during your first time with me, I’m going to be your focus.”
I nodded, the movement halted by his loose grip.
“You’renotfucking me, though,” I said, glancing down. “That’s the problem.”
His length hadn’t been swallowed down by my pussy, so he and Leighton were both ‘fucking me’ about equal at the moment.
My snark wasn’t appreciated. I hadn’t expected it to be.
Ambrose growled, his fingers flexing with the desire to choke me. “You’re a brat,” he muttered. “If it’s your first time, it may be uncomfortable, even for an omega. Would you prefer I didn’t ease you into it?”
I shook my head. In my experience, easing in only meant the discomfort lasted longer. I wasn’t sure if the principle applied to sex, but I was going to assume.
“Leighton, I need you to stop me if you don’t think she can take it.” Ambrose’s voice was as husky as I’d ever heard it. His eyebrows were drawn together, a hint of concern in his expression. Every inch of him was tense and straining, ready to take me the way I’d been fantasizing about since these pre-heat cramps had begun.
Maybe before that.
I might have fantasized from the moment I saw him, or at least the moment I heard him fucking Leighton that first night.
“She can take it. She’s an omega,” Leighton said.
“That’s why I’m fucking worried. I’m not fully… in control.”
My heart skipped in anticipation. Using my legs wrapped around his torso, I slid myself up and down his length. The sensation was foreign to me—fingers were rougher, and tongues were softer. A cock sliding against my clit was a wholly unique sensation.
“I don’t think she wants control, Ambrose. My omega wants a feral alpha and a knot. Give her both.”
I did. She knew exactly what I wanted. I hadn’t known how to articulate it. I wasn’t sure if I could articulate anything, anymore. The pressure was building, the cramping uncomfortable and annoying when I knew it would be so easy to fix.
Ambrose’s growl rumbled all the way down to his cock, vibrating against my clit. I cried out, digging my heels into his back and trying to position myself—I had to get him to my entrance, and the world would make sense again.
