꧁ঔৣ☬𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓽𝔂☬ঔৣ꧂

Cardinal’s leash remained firmly gripped in your hand as you followed the guard past the front entrance. His paws pittered-pattered against the tile flooring, echoing in the long hall along with your footsteps. Every so often, his side would brush against your calf before he righted himself only to bump you once again after a few moments. His presence kept you calm; prison—even if you weren’t the one in handcuffs and a jumpsuit—made everyone nervous, and you were no exception. 

If this were any other place, Cardinal would heel frozen at your feet, nose bumping into the flesh of your leg to signal that something deep inside you was unsettled. He wasn’t a certified therapy dog, not after he’d growled too much and refused to give up his toys during training, but the deeply instilled instinct to protect and comfort remained wired into his brain. He’d been a gift from your parents. 

You need something to look after you while you’re off getting your master’s your father had stated before you finally left the coup of your hometown. Since you don’t have a boyfriend, we’ll get you the next best thing. 

And the next best thing happened to be a two-year-old doberman, fresh from failing training, who, upon meeting you, never once left your side. With his baby blue collar and harness, the matching set starkly contrasting his inky coat, he served as your sole protector through the move to Sacramento almost a year ago and apparently now while you walked deeper into the Folsom State Prison’s belly to be a part of their “Canines for Comfort” rehabilitation-slash-rehab program, which had been instated around the time you started year one of school. 

You had signed up and sent in an application on a whim, something to help fill the odd space in your Saturdays a few hours after sleeping in where you weren’t hungry enough for lunch but didn’t want to just sit around twiddling your thumbs. Their approval had come swiftly, and before you knew it, you’d made the hour drive to arrive for your first session. Up ahead, the guard stopped at a plain, gray door that didn’t have a window. 

“With me,” you muttered, and Cardinal sat almost on top of your feet. 

“Session starts in five minutes. There are seats in there; choose one and stay in it during the duration of the thirty minutes,” he gruffed. 

A low groan rumbled down by your feet at his bluntness, and you were quick to hiss a small sht towards your companion. It didn’t take much to get Cardinal to quiet, but even you could tell that the longer you stood there, the more he was getting unnerved. 

Thankfully, the guard tapped a keycard on the lock and the automatic click boomed loudly. He pushed down on the handle before swinging the door wide open to reveal the few people and dogs already in there. You, obviously, were the last one. 

“Up,” you said as you took the first step toward the threshold. 

Cardinal trotted in tandem with your stride and paid no attention to the others in the room, deep eyes locked on your face even if you were looking around. In one corner of the large, almost classroom-like room, an older woman sat with a dopey golden retriever panting at her feet. In the one adjacent, a middle-aged man stood, back pressed to the wall, hand wrapped around a lead that connected to a very sleepy beagle. You thanked the air. If someone got him howling, there’d be no stop. And across the empty corner—the one that you were supposed to “choose” even if it was the only nonoccupied one left—a college-aged girl nervously looked around, fingers fiddling with the hair of her collie that was half sitting in her lap. 

You took the chair. “Feet.” 

With a small pushed out groan, Cardinal plopped down on his stomach, legs out in front of him, head held high. Your left hand splayed across his head while your right kept a hold of his leash. The session was going to be co-ed and only available to prisoners who kept a good rep with impeccable behavior, but that still didn’t do much to calm the lapping wave of anxiety in your stomach. 

Eyeing the guard who stayed by the door, you noted the way he kept his hands next to his weapon. Only the sound of the secondary door on the other side opening got you to look the other way. As the first few prisoners trickled in, wrists held close together with metallic chains, you sat up a bit straighter. A few of them glanced your way, but as you thought, most of them seemed to gravitate toward the . . . friendly looking dogs, especially the golden retriever who looked like he’d never met a stranger. 

Cardinal huffed, sides filling with air before deflating, and his head lowered until it fit between the slots of his feet. You bent at the waist to give his head another small pat and rub. So focused on him, though, you missed the one person approaching you slowly until his feet stopped mere inches away from Cardinal’s. You stayed bent, but your neck craned until your eyes met peered hazel ones that flickered downward and then back to your face. 

You sat up straight, the plastic chair creaking under the sudden change in position, and squared your shoulders. “Hi.” 

The man drenched in God-awful orange didn’t reply. His lips curled in a thin line, and his hands clenched and unclenched near his navel. You watched as he shifted his weight, body tense like he wanted to speak and move but held back. You quickly looked around. If you had another chair, you’d offer it to him, but the only ones seemed to be occupied by the dog owners. 

“Um, there’s not an extra chair, but . . .” you trailed, lip catching between your teeth. “I can always stand up and let you sit or—” 

Still without answering, he started to lower to the ground instead until he was fully seated, legs crossed in front of him. His head tilted slightly to the side, and his eyes didn’t look away from Cardinal, yet, he made no motion to reach out and pet him. 

You leaned back down and placed a hand on your dog’s head. “He’s friendly,” you said, hand dragging down his fur. “Might growl at first, but I swear he won’t bite your hand.” You paused before adding, “Unless you have food. Then he might not be able to tell the difference between that and your fingers.” 

A deep feeling in your chest wanted him to crack a smile or actually acknowledge he was being talked to, but when his lips stayed flat, eyes unwavering. He didn’t even flinch when it appeared Cardinal got too impatient to be pet and lifted off the ground to get a closer smell. You smiled as his nose twitched while he carefully inched forward. 

Then, finally, the man reached out before keeping his hand held in the air, letting Cardinal come to him instead of forcing a connection. A small, warning growl accompanied a curled lip to show off his canines, but the man didn’t cower. Almost like he needed your approval as well before fully giving into the outreached hand, Cardinal turned his head back towards you, and you slightly laughed. 

“You big doaf,” you teased. “Go on.” 

That’s all you had to say for Cardinal to dive right into the man’s lap, tongue hanging out of his mouth as his full body wriggled around. The man gave him the most gentle pets you’d ever seen someone do. It made you wonder if he was scared of himself with the way he held back. He stayed firmly upright despite Cardinal jumping around, putting his paws on the man’s chest, and even going around him as far as the leash would allow to nose at his spine before plopping back down into the lap made by criss-crossed-applesauced legs. 

You stayed quiet and watched the two mess around. Because your companion wasn’t the most trusting of men, it’d been a while since you’d seen Cardinal get to rough house around with someone that could take it. You weren’t weak at all, but with the amount of energy stored in that lithe black and brown body, most times you ended up curled in a ball on the floor as he continued relentless play attacks at your sides and back.  

After a few minutes, Cardinal settled fully as he draped himself across the man’s legs, chest rapidly rising and falling in low pants. Big hands continued running down his short coat in long strokes. 

“What’s his name?” 

The sound of his voice caught you off guard, the addition to the small three-way circle so sudden it sent your head reeling before you blinked the stunned feeling away. You tried not to note that he had a nice voice. But it was impossible and slotted in the back of your mind. 

“Cardinal,” you managed to sputter out. 

Definitely not attractive. 

“Cardinal,” he parroted, and the most magic thing followed: the corners of his lips curled barely by a hair. “Nice name.” 

“I’m glad you think so. I originally wanted to go with Bishop, but I knew a guy with that name in high school, and he was a grade-A asshole,” you babbled. “And I think Cardinal fits him much better.” Your fingers fiddled with the leash. “My name’s (Y/n) . . . if you were wondering.” 

He—still the unnamed prisoner—lifted his eyes to meet yours. 

“And you probably weren’t wondering,” you backtracked with a sigh, cheeks heating just a bit under his gaze. 

“(Y/n).” He nodded once. “Nice name.” 

The heat flooded down your neck, and you shyly murmured a thank you. His hazel eyes returned to the puddle of dog between his legs. 

“Can you tell me more about him?” he asked. 

“Oh, sure,” you responded, shifting in your seat as though this were an interview. “He just turned three last week, but I swear he still thinks he’s a puppy. His favorite toy is a stuffed white puppy; he literally cannot sleep without it. Um, we do bite work every Monday night, and then advanced protection on Thursdays. And—” 

“All right, that’s it for today,” a low voice near the exit door cut you off, and it was as if a switch had been turned off in the man. 

The barely-there breath of a smile dropped instantly, and his back went rigid, hands stopping along near Cardinal’s ribs before ripping away back to his lap. Confused at the lack of pets, Cardinal stood back up and nose nudged near his jaw, but the man was already pushing up from the floor. 

You also stood up once he got to full height. “Well, it was nice meeting you . . .” 

He glanced over to where the prisoners were already lining up before quietly offering, “Andrew.” 

You repeated him just as quiet. A small secret shared. Two names for one; something to hold onto until the next time. 

“Thank you for sitting with us,” you said. “He really likes you.” 

As though to reinforce your statement, Cardinal all but put his snout into the space between Andrew’s shackled hands, squeezing a soft whine into the air. 

“Cody!” the guard barked. “In line.” 

Andrew tensed before slowly turning around without a second glance back to you, and just like that, it was only you, the other three dog owners, and the one guard who led you in left in the room. The moment the door locked shut with the prisoners on the other side, the three hounded in on you, questions pouring from their mouths. 

“How on earth did you do that?” the older lady asked above the others. 

Your brows pinched tightly. “Do what?” 

Her eyes flickered towards the door. “I’ve been here for five sessions, and not once has that man interacted with a dog much less the person as well. He never spoke and stood to the side like a creep.” 

A warning grumble reverberated from Cardinal just as you scoffed. 

“Maybe he just didn’t find anyone quiet enough to feel comfortable to approach,” you said, quick to defend the man who hadn’t even said twenty words to you in a span of the thirty minute session. “Go time,” you said before stepping away from the group with Cardinal right on your heels, falling back into a perfectly matched rhythm. 

Before even going into the session, you had wondered if this was going to be your first and final attendance, but when the sun shown brightly and warmed your skin and Cardinal pulled lightly on his leash, acting like he wanted to go back inside and sniff Andrew out, you decided that next week, you’d get back into your car and make the hour commute again. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

With more anticipation than the last time, your knee bounced rapidly as you waited for the prisoners to trickle through into the room. You kept your eyes glued, and if someone had pointed it out, you would have realized that you and Cardinal had the same look: something yearning and waiting and excitement all jumbled and stuffed into your bodies. People did say that owners somehow picked dogs that looked like them without even realizing. 

You hadn’t even made Cardinal sit nicely at your feet again, and his little nubbed tail swished back and forth with a fast viciousness only saved for his favorite people, the list usually being just you. But now, you guessed Andrew’s name was right under yours. 

At the sound of the door being unlocked, you subconsciously leaned forward. The first few prisoners stepped out, and your breathing stopped as you mentally calculated how many were coming in. To keep everyone from being overwhelmed, only a handful of prisoners were allowed in, and you prayed that Andrew would be the next to step through the threshold. 

The corners of your lips curled upward when you finally spotted him in the mix, hair still cropped, hands still shackled, but unlike last week, he seemed more interested in what was going on. It only took him a moment to turn his face towards your small corner, and Cardinal let out a small happy yelp when he started to walk over. You allowed his leash to go slack enough to let him meet Andrew halfway, backside moving back and forth since his tail seemed to not be able to keep up. 

Andrew tried not to trip on the dog, keeping his eyes downward and his steps careful until he reached the spot where he sat the last time. His knees creaked just a bit as he lowered down to the ground and kept his feet out straight. Immediately, Cardinal hopped into his lap, rolling stomach up, the universal ask for belly rubs. 

With both hands, he started scratching along his soft under-belly coat. 

“Hi again,” you said gently. 

“Hi,” he greeted back even if he didn’t look up at you. “He seems happy.” 

“Oh, you have no idea. I could barely get him to sit in the car on the way over here. I think he missed you the entire week,” you said. 

His brows furrowed. “I’ve only met him once.” 

You shrugged before leaning down to drop the leash fully knowing Cardinal wasn’t going to dart at all. “That’s all it takes for a dog to decide if you’re their new favorite person or their arch nemesis for the rest of time.” 

“Oh.” He frowned, deeply thinking of what he’d done to be on the receiving end of such excitement from an animal. “That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” Your growing smile stretched until your teeth showed. “Plus, he loves scratches and love pats, and you seem to be doing a pretty good job.” 

Andrew noticed that his hands had moved on from scratching to gently patting along Cardinal’s ribs in rhythmic motions. His mind raced to what the two of you had been talking about the last time before the session had ended. Normally, he wouldn’t be so invested in a person and dog, but there was something about the way you looked so soft yet fierce while your canine looked fierce while Cardinal didn’t hesitate to jump into his lap. 

“You said he did bite work?” 

“What?” you asked. 

His chin tilted downward, and he looked up at you through his eyebrows. “Last time. You said he did bite work.” 

“Oh yeah,” you breathed before giggling to yourself. “He has a lot of energy that can’t all be burned out from just going to a dog park or going for a run. So the moment I moved here, I looked into places that had training courses for him to go through. Plus it’s helpful.” 

“Helpful?” he echoed. 

“Yeah, ya know . . . if I ever get attacked or some guy comes after me.” You leaned down and settled a hand near Andrew’s on Cardinal's back. “He protects me.” 

“Has that ever happened before?” Andrew suddenly asked, almost personally confused as to why he did. 

The sessions weren’t supposed to be chat hours. He knew the prison offered this to get him to be more docile. If he didn’t attack the dogs, maybe he’d learn not to attack or hit others. This plus the meds they’d been giving him, he wasn’t sure how trusting he could be, and asking questions about your wellbeing was the complete opposite of being on the offense. 

Your eyes glanced down before you leaned back into the seat. “Once after I first moved. I don’t live on campus—I’m here to finish my masters—and after class, this one guy followed me home. I don’t know exactly why; I’d never seen him before, but he tried to corner me near my door. I had just gotten it open when he tried to grab me, and Cardinal came rushing out the door.” 

The more you talked, the more rage built in Andrew’s chest, simmering just below his skin. And instead of questioning why he felt this way, he gave into the feeling and clenched his hands. However, Cardinal, the everknowing soul, felt the change in him right away, and Andrew wasn’t ready for him to stand and press his cold nose into the side of his neck, huffing loudly near his ear. 

You laughed quietly after seeing how still Andrew had become, confusion on what to do next. Your fingers quickly found the dropped leash on the ground, but before you could give Cardinal a small tug, Andrew shook his head. 

“He’s okay,” he murmured. 

A wave of sadness crashed over you as you watched him try to wrap his arms around Cardinal but failed since the cuffs kept his wrists together. 

Maybe one day once he’s out, he can give Cardinal a full hug quickly flashed through your mind, to which you quickly shook your head to get rid of it. Once Andrew was out, he would disappear from your and Cardinal's life entirely. 

One glance toward the clock on the wall told you that only ten minutes remained for the session, and your heart clenched. The thirty minutes weren’t enough. 

“What are you in school for?” Andrew asked after a quiet moment, arms finally wrapped awkwardly around Cardinal’s neck, basically using him as an arm wrest. 

“Behavior sciences. I like knowing how people tick,” you replied. “Everyone acts differently, but I believe that at our base, we all have a need and want to be liked. It’s human nature to want to please. Kinda like dogs.” 

“Is that why you signed up for this?” he spat the last word. 

“A little. I think I wanted to find a way to help people since school doesn’t give me time to do extra volunteer hours during the week,” you provided. “I mean, one of our assignments was to find an outlet that could help, and I found Folsom’s application online.” 

“Oh.” 

“But,” you swiftly kept going, “we only had to go once for the grade.” 

Andrew looked back up at you. “Then why are you here?” 

“Well, Cardinal seemed to really like this one guy we met last week,” you teased, and he finally gave you more than a hint of a smile, lips pulling outward until lines appeared. 

“Just him?” 

You pretended to think, eyes looking upward to the ceiling. “Hmmmm, maybe not just Cardinal. I think I liked talking to the guy too.” 

A rosyness bloomed across Andrew’s face. 

You liked talking to him? Probably the first time someone ever said that, and his first instinct was a desperate want to hear you say it again. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

For the next two years, you always faithfully showed up to the sessions. During that time, you’d gotten to know some about Andrew’s life outside of the concrete walls. You learned that he was a twin, he had two younger brothers and an older adopted brother, whose wife he used to love, and that his father had died before he was born. 

He enjoyed skateboarding whenever he could get away from his mom. If he had a slow evening, he liked to listen to nature documentaries on the TV. He told you about his arrest, though barely giving you full details but enough that you decided he wasn’t in prison for the right reasons. Every time he spoke, you listened with intent, wanting to soak up any knowledge about the man you’d come to look forward to seeing every Saturday afternoon. 

In return, you told him about your own life. Unlike him, you were an only child, parents still living and married together. You were twenty-five; fifteen years his junior. Your favorite color was green despite Cardinal’s leash and halter being blue—he’d picked it out himself you told him through a fit of giggles. You confessed that after college, you really didn’t have a plan for your life, and that you preferred to go with the flow to see where you ended up. 

And somewhere along the way, untold to either, you both felt a certain care for the other. 

Andrew had felt drawn to you the moment you had told him that you liked that he was quieter and softer than the others, that he didn’t try to talk over you and remembered the smallest things you’d said. And every time you gave him a compliment like the time you mentioned hazel eyes were your favorite hues and that you enjoyed looking at them, his heart yearned for you a little bit more to the point he started being first in line for the sessions to get the smallest handful of seconds longer in your presence. 

You, on the other hand, started feeling something for him when he quietly defended Cardinal. One of the newer volunteers who started coming around five weeks after you started had loudly proclaimed that a Doberman wasn’t fit to be a therapy dog. You’d wanted to shut his comment down, protest that Cardinal had been approved just as his yappy, little rat Chihuahua had when Andrew slowly stood, faced the man, and berated him in front of everyone. You’d been scared that he’d get reprimanded, but the guards never did a thing.  

Through these small moments and honest conversations, Saturdays became both of your favorite days of the week. 

Well . . . that was until a random Saturday almost two years after you’d first signed up. 

The entire drive over, you were excited to tell Andrew that you’d passed your exams, meaning that graduation would be right around the corner for you. The second bit of exciting news was that you’d been offered a three-year contract for a job in Sacramento. You’d get to stay close, see him more often if he let you. School wouldn’t be in the way. 

Cardinal could sense your excitement in the air, and he matched your energy the entire way into Folsom. He bounded around your feet, not even listening to your small commands and corrections. Once inside, you were the first to take a seat, Cardinal finally sitting next to the chair like normal. 

The door unlocked, and the first few prisoners walked through, and your heart began to race. However, after the fifth and sixth prisoner, with Andrew not in sight, your stomach backflipped before sinking when the door closed. 

Andrew hadn’t made it through. There must have been a mistake. 

You pushed off the metal chair—the plastic one had broken during one of the sessions where Cardinal managed to push you off and down to his and Andrew’s level—and approached one of the guards. 

“Excuse me,” you meekly said, tensing under the man’s steeled gaze. “I’m wondering if Andrew Cody couldn’t make it today. Is he doing okay?”

“Sorry to tell you, but he was released a couple days ago.” 

You swallowed thickly. “What? He said he had another three to go—” 

“Got out on good behavior. Guess the Canine-Comfort thing did its job. Never seen such a violent man turn into someone normal.” 

A sneer pinched your face, and you had to fight the urge to tell him off that Andrew was always normal. A little lost in life, but he wasn’t an animal, wasn’t violent . . . at least towards you. But you found it hard to believe after being around him and his kindness for two full years, seeing nothing but the gentleness he gave you. 

You turned and looked around the room before looking back at the guard. “Am I able to leave early?” 

Quietly and quickly, he opened the door for you to slip through, and as you walked through the empty hall, Cardinal whined loudly. 

“I know, bud, I know,” you whispered. “I’m going to miss him too.”  

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Never once had you slipped Andrew’s mind, not even as a year passed since the last time he’d seen you and Cardinal. He hadn’t even known that the session before he got released was going to be the final time, and if he had, he probably would have done something reckless like tell you to find him once he got out. 

But the way he had to leave without even getting to say goodbye tore at his chest whenever you crossed his mind or when he saw a doberman walking on the street. If he imagined hard enough, he could morph whoever to have your soft hair and your sweet smile that Andrew believed to only be reserved for him. Distance made the heart grow fonder, but the longer he was away from you, the more his fondness turned into obsession. He looked for you in every aspect, and before he knew it, he was typing your name into his computer. 

To his chagrin, only your past references would ever be brought up in the search engine. He did see that you had graduated a few months after his release, but that meant that you were probably long gone by then. Andrew cursed himself. He hadn’t even told you where he lived. 

From then on, he learned to curb his wants and desires for you, only giving in under the cover of night. He’d imagine your voice next to his ear, your weight over his bare chest, fingers dragging down his pecs and abs as your hips rocked against his. His hand would dip below his shorts into his boxers, cock already hard and straining by the time he wrapped his hand around the length. His soft, warm shaft would already be wet and slick with precum. With tantalizing strokes and bucking pelvis, it wouldn’t take him long to cum in his pants by the mere thought of how you’d taste on his tongue.  

What really got him spurting though was when, instead of hearing moans and whimpers from your lips, he’d envision you giving him soft commands as you did to Cardinal. A down here, a speak there, a bite down as he filled you completely. And above all, he’d whimper hearing you give him a good boy if he managed to please and do what you’d asked. 

In the haze of orgasm before clarity would command his senses once again, he’d reach for his phone and google harnesses and leashes for people, only to swipe the tab away the next morning with burning cheeks. 

Though, those moments started to spread far and few between as his mother began to commandeer his life once again. But after he found out she’d been drugging his food, he left. Put the whole life behind him. 

He stayed close to Oceanside in case his brothers needed something, but the life of Pope Cody, criminal under his mother’s thumb, was over. With any hope of finding you again keeping his heart beating, he changed. Got a job—one that gave him money the legal way. Started skateboarding again. You’d be proud of him, at least, he believed you’d be proud of him. 

It wasn’t until one Saturday morning that his reason for life walked right on by without even stopping. 

He nearly fell off his skateboard, because there you were, tan and glowing under the sun. You looked a bit older, not as soft as he once knew you, but the world worked in funny ways like that. It dangled what you wanted the most after they’d been changed. And as he watched you walk away, Cardinal at your side, he wanted to say something—scream something, but he stayed silent. For as much as he begged to see you again, here was no telling if you'd actually wanted the same. 

So, Andrew stayed quiet, but that didn’t mean he stayed still. After you’d walked on a few feet, he fell into your invisible footprints along the sand-specked sidewalk. You were none the wiser, earbuds letting music flow too loudly to hear the outside world. He would have to have a discussion with you about that. There was only so much Cardinal could do if you were attacked unsuspectingly. Not knowing your surroundings terrified him to his core. 

He followed you for around thirty minutes, enjoying the walk along the way but also enjoying being around you after so long. His eyes trailed your back and the way your shoulder blades and muscles shifted beneath the tank top draped over your torso. The hazel hues lingered at the bottom hem that lifted with each step, revealing more of your ass that was perfectly sculpted by the tight green leggings. 

You only stopped when you reached a small white house and used a key to waltz in, and Andrew’s stomach clenched. You’d been living here. You’d only been less than an hour away this entire time. He could have had you sooner. 

But now? Now he knew where you lived. Someplace he could come to when you weren’t there. A home that you could possibly invite him in at some point. However, he wasn’t about to waste anymore time away from you. 

The next time he was out skating, he didn’t stay long, choosing to follow the memorized path back to your house. It wasn’t his fault you left a second key under a false rock, and it wasn’t his fault that you were out and about. He noted that you desperately needed a security system once he realized there was a lack of cameras. 

His footsteps were soft as he walked through the hallway and into the living room. The air smelled like a mix of your perfume—vanilla and salt air—and clean dog shampoo. Even if every aspect of your home held evidence that Cardinal lived there too in toys and the bed near the couch, he was grateful you kept it clear of dog hair. 

He moved on toward your bedroom and stopped in the threshold as though the space he was about to enter was too holy for him and his dirty soul. His eyes scanned each inch from your curtain choice to your bedspread: green gingham with white pillows. However, a sprawled piece of navy fabric caught his attention, and he gave into the urge to walk over. It wasn’t until he picked it up that he realized what it was. 

His large fingers fiddled with the lacy part of your underwear, thumb running along the hem before stopping at the gusset. There was no dampness, no leftover scent from what he could tell; the pair was clean, and that wouldn't do at all. He carefully laid it back down, spreading it as though he never picked it up in the first place and turned direction. 

Your closet was his next victim. His lower half peeked out around the door as he dug through the hamper of your dirty clothes. Your scent was thicker here. Not as sweet, but even more so addicting as it wafted upwards to his face. A small moan crawled up his throat, the sound echoing in your empty bedroom. 

However, as he continued digging around, he didn’t hear the soft sound of your door clicking shut or your footsteps as you walked in his direction. 

For one split second, you were terrified to see half of a man sticking out of your closet. Cardinal was currently at his handlers for one-on-one time; your one protector was gone the moment you needed him most. And yet, when the man pulled back, revealing the face of the man you’d been dreaming about for a year, your soul settled enough to let you watch what he did next. 

In his hands, yesterday's thong dangled between his thick fingers before he slowly brought it up to his nose. Your eyes stayed trained on his chest as it inflated deeply and a groan rumbled right out of it. Something inside you warmed at the scene even if you should have been calling the police. 

You shoved your hands into your pockets when he took another deep breath in and decided it was time to make your presence known. 

“You know,” you said, making Andrew’s eyes widen and hands drop to his sides. “If you missed me this much, you could have approached me normally. Unless this is your way of showing exactly what you’ve been wanting to do since we parted ways?” 

Your thong fell to the floor in a heap, and a redness crept up his neck and settled in his cheeks. He felt frozen, glued to the floor, unable to move even an inch under your hungry gaze. Your head tilted slightly when he made no move, made no attempt to apologize or explain what he was doing. 

“Andrew, come here,” you stated, slightly joking. 

However, your words seemed to light something in his mind, and he quickly walked over to you in large strides until mere inches were left between your chest and his. He wasn’t much taller than you exactly, but he had a few good bit above you where you had to look up. His shoulders, though, felt larger, and you bet you’d fit right into his chest with enough of him left to curl around you. 

Just the thought sent a shiver down your spine. 

Slowly, you lifted a hand and rested it against his cheek. Instantly, he leaned into your palm. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed. 

But an apology wasn’t what you were looking for. 

“I asked you a question, Andrew,” you restated. “Have you been thinking about me?” His jaw dropped before clamping back shut. The hand at his cheek traveled upwards and tangled into his grown-out curls. “C’mon; speak. Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

He swallowed loudly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “I’ve . . . I’ve wanted you.” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “For how long?” 

“Since Folsom. Since you said you liked hearing me speak.” 

A small part of you shattered. “That long?” 

He nodded, hair pulling slightly in your grasp. “That long. But then I left. Couldn’t find you after that.” 

“Well, now you’ve found me. What are you going to do about it, Andrew?” 

At his sides, his hands clenched like they did the first time you met him, and somehow, it clicked to you that this was his tell, his silent plea for someone to help him do what he wanted. You’d done it before; when you first offered your chair for him to sit down only for him to take the ground instead. But here he was, looking at you with expecting eyes as he waited oh so patiently for your next direction. 

Your fingers curled deeper into his roots, and the pressure drew a sigh from deep in his lungs. 

“Poor Andrew,” you cooed. “Can’t do anything unless I tell you to.” 

“Please,” he whined. 

“Okay, okay.” Your eyes met his, the hazel almost completely covered by his blown out pupils. “Down.” 

As soon as the command hit his brain, neurons firing for him to obey, obey, obey, he fell to the floor, knees crashing down in one fluid motion. His face pressed into your navel, and his hands finally planted themselves on your hips. You took two steps back until your spine molded against the wall, and Andrew shuffled forward to follow. 

“Take off my pants and underwear,” you breathed. 

His fingers gripped both hems and pulled downward until the fabric puddled at your feet. It took every ounce of self control that Andrew had left to not shove his face between your thighs and breathe you in. 

Slowly, you lifted your right leg, using the wall as support, and rested it over his shoulder. Your cunt was now in full display, less than an inch from his nose. He slightly leaned forward, but you held his head in place by his hair. 

“Did I tell you to go ahead?” you questioned with lidded eyes. 

He shook his head, looking more guilty than he had when you’d caught him with your underwear under his nose after he’d broken into your home. 

“Good boys do as they’re told, Andrew.” 

“‘M sorry,” he whimpered. 

“Do you want to be a good boy?” 

“Yes,” he answered almost before you’d even finished the question. “Yes. I wanna be . . .” His words died in his mouth, and your brows pinched. 

“Go on, baby. Tell me what you wanna be.” 

He huffed, a sound that reminded you of when Cardinal didn’t want to do as told. 

“. . . wanna be your good boy.” 

An elated expression morphed your face with raised eyebrows and a small smile. 

“Then show me what your tongue can do and lick.” 

Like a tightly coiled spring, he launched forward, face diving into your cunt all at once. His chin rubbed along your already dampened folds as his tongue began to lap mindlessly at the sensitive space between your clit and your entrance. While that felt good, you needed him higher. 

“Slow,” you managed to get out while your fingers used his curls to direct him. When the flat of his tongue ran along your clit, white, zinging pleasure shot up your spine. “There. Right—fuck—there, Andrew.” 

Under your hand, Andrew learned quickly, eagerly doing just as you told him. He kept his hands in place while he traded tonguing your throbbing bundle of nerves and licking at your fluttering hole, your taste seeping into his mouth. He hoped that it would stick, that when he fantasized about you next, he’d be able to swallow the lingering taste. 

“Fingers,” you panted once ecstasy settled warmly in your navel and your thighs began to tighten around his head. You’d played with yourself enough to know exactly what you needed, and since meeting Andrew, his thick fingers had been a craving during your lapses of self pleasure. “Use your fingers.” 

Andrew’s right hand slowly dragged downward across your hip and slightly under where his lips stayed connected to your clit as he sucked it between his teeth. Using his pointer finger, he prodded at your hole, fingertip barely breaching you before sliding right in. 

A strangled moan ripped from deep in your throat at the feeling. One of his fingers felt like two of yours, the stretch delicious and borderline painful in sweet tantalizing pressure. 

“Andrew!” you whined, head tilting back, throat bared to the ceiling. Your hips canted upwards into his face and finger, desperately searching for something more. “Move.” 

He dragged his fingertip along your walls, memorizing every soft ridge until his soaked digit cooled slightly before thrusting it back in. Your cunt clenched tightly around it. 

“Hmmmm—fuck!” you keened when he managed to reach a particularly deep part of you that had only been accessible with a toy. “Oh, shit, fucking—Andrew!” 

The sound of you calling his name had his cock straining even more against his pants. He’d never admit it, but his cock had already started swelling the moment he inhaled your heady scent from your thong. But now, hearing your whimpers and half-croaked moans that tangled his name, he needed to get some pressure off, or he was going to cum untouched. 

You’d been so distracted with his finger and tongue that you failed to notice the first jerk of his hips against your shin. But when he did it a second time and then a third, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

“Are you—fuck—are you humping my leg?” you asked. 

Andrew stilled against you, and you swallowed a moan. You could feel how hard he was against your skin, how large his cock was, even with being restrained by two layers of fabric. 

“I’m sor—“ He choked on a moan when your leg rose slightly and pressed into his bulge. He hunched slightly at the waist, face pulling back from your cunt, cheek resting against your thigh with eyes pinched tightly. 

It’d been so long since someone touched him, and your approval of letting him use your body for his own pleasure made the fire in his stomach build and roar. 

“Go on,” you muttered before pushing back his sweat-soaked curls from his forehead. “Hump my leg like a fucking mutt, but don’t you dare cum, Andrew.”  

He nodded mindlessly, and his hips began to rock once again in slow, dragged out motions. You left him to his pleasure for a few moments before tugging his face back into your core. 

“Get back to licking like you know how to do,” you commanded even if you were just as pathetically holding onto strings as he was. “Add another finger and make me cum all over your face.” 

You kept your leg as steady as you could manage while Andrew started licking and nibbling at your folds and stiff clit with renewed fervor. His pointer was soon joined with his middle, the delicious stretch even tighter than before. And when his hips jerked, a groan vibrated through your folds, almost sending you right over the edge. 

“An-Andrew,” you gasped, overwhelmed with his fingers and tongue working in tandem to make you cum. “C-curl—fucking, I’m—curl your fingers upwards—oh!” Your elongated moan turned into whine when his fingertips managed to brush directly at your g-spot, and stars dotted your vision. “That’s—Andreeewww—feels so—I’m gonna cum!” 

Andrew kept humping your shin in methodical thrusts, careful to heed your words and hold back the urge to cum. From below, he lifted his eyes, gaze running up your stomach to your pinched face. He wanted to see what you looked like when you came undone, to see if he obeyed correctly. His lips puckered, and he sucked your clit between them, the tip of his tongue kitten liking the bud as he curled his fingers again. His fingers massaged that small, spongy spot, and the next moment, your thighs clamped down on his ears. 

“Cumming—fuck!” you moaned, torso bending over Andrew’s head, hips jerking absentmindedly to seek out as much pleasure as possible. 

Your walls rhythmically clenched around his two fingers, and your arousal dripped down to his knuckles. A shudder wracked through your entire being when the bliss started morphing into overstimulation. 

“Okay, okay,” you whimpered. “Enough.” 

Andrew licked from your fluttering hole up to your clit once last time before pulling back to sit on his calves.  Already half-lidded, your eyes fluttered closed, and your head felt back with a soft thunk as you tried to catch your breath, mind reeling and fuzzy. Down by your knees, a slurping sound echoed in the room, and your eyes ripped open in time to see Andrew hollow his cheeks around his fingers. 

Once your chest fell into a softer rhythm, you looked down at him. “Andrew.” He paused, fingers halfway in his mouth, and looked up. “Up.” 

He pushed off the ground without a second thought and stood to his full height, but his eyes were no longer on you. The blown-out pupils were fixated on a spot just over your shoulder, and when he noticed you’d caught on, he quickly shifted them back to your face. However, your curiosity wouldn’t let you forget, and you looked toward the wall near your face, eyes widened when you realized what he’d been looking at with a yearning look: one of Cardinal’s choke chains that you used specifically for obedience training, its gold links beaming and glinting under your gaze. 

You turned back to face him. “Pants and shirt off.” 

At lightning speed, he shucked both clothing articles off before neatly folding and setting them on the edge of your bed. A certain soft type of fondness that made you want to keep him forever filled your chest. You raked over his body with a hungry look, letting your eyes linger on the outline of his abs and happy trail that dipped into the waistline of his boxers before lowering down to his thick thighs. 

“Good,” you praised, and his chest puffed out ever so slightly. “Now . . . sit on the bed.” 

He turned without thinking and walked until his knees hit the edge before slowly lowering until his ass rested on top of your duvet. As he did so, you had also turned around, but in the opposite direction to grab the choke chain from the hook. Its weight settled heavily in your palm, the loop swinging as it dangled. 

When you looked up from it toward Andrew, he was already eyeing the chain as well with interest as well as apprehension. 

You held the special collar in the air. “Do you want me to use this on you, Andrew?” 

He swallowed thickly, and his head bobbed. 

You gave him a sharp sht. “Speak.” 

“Yes,” he sighed breathily. “Please.” 

Instead of answering, you rewarded him by walking over to stand between his spread legs, your thighs brushing and resting between his. Slowly, you fed the chain through the one hoop, allowing the hooped part to loosen and spread. The small links shinked against their metal counterparts, and the sound sent a shiver down Andrew’s spine. 

As you would do with Cardinal, you lowered the open-feed loop until it swallowed his head before drooping around his neck. You let it rest against his skin, let him get used to the cool metal as it drew in his radiating body heat. 

“There,” you whispered. “You look so good in a collar, Andy.” 

His brows pinched tightly, and he locked his confused eyes onto yours. “Andy?” 

You nodded. “Every good boy needs a nickname.” Your left pointer finger hooked through the end ring and pulled lightly, making Andrew follow the lead until his face stopped right next to yours. “Do you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he was quick to answer this time. “Yes, please. For a long time.” 

You leaned in and placed a chaste kiss against his lips before muttering, “Crawl up the bed and sit against the headboard.” 

The end ring slipped from your finger and landed in the divot between his pecs. Without turning away from you, Andrew used his arms to pull himself farther up the bed, biceps bulging under his weight until he got into the position you wanted him to be in. Seeing that he settled himself, you pulled your shirt off before your bra followed suit. 

Almost instantly, your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and you swore a drop of drool escaped the side of Andrew’s lips. Your knees sunk first into the mattress, and then your hands. You slowly crawled over the bed, never looking away from him even as you partly straddled his thighs. He huffed out a soft whine when your nails scraped against his stomach and caught on his boxers. 

“Let’s get these off. Lift up,” you said. 

Andrew’s hips rose off the bed, giving you enough room to pull the black fabric down. The hem dragged down inch by inch in a teasing manner until his cock was fully revealed. You paused to watch it bob upward against his lower navel, and the heavy girth of it tilted the head to the side as it swayed. Your walls clenched around nothing; your cunt ached for it to fill you to the brim. 

Your tongue ran along your bottom lip as you all but ripped his boxers off the rest of the way, flinging them behind you to join your own pile of clothes. For a split second, you wondered if he wanted you to fold them like he had with his shirt and pants, but with the way he was looking at you . . . you could tell he didn’t mind them being wrinkled on the floor. 

Hesitantly, you reached out and trailed your finger down the vein on the underside of his length, his cock jolting and spurting a bead of precum when you reached the thick base. His hands, lying next to his thighs, once again began to rhythmically clench into fists. 

You shuffled forward more into his lap, one hand gripping his cock while the other took a hold of the dangling end of the choke chain. Your movements paused so you could slide his ruddy tip through your soaked folds, drawing moans from both of you. 

A small upward tilt of his hips had you pulling back and hand tightening the chain around his neck in a warning. 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” you tutted. “Stay.” 

When he stilled under you, you slowly positioned back over his cock until the head notched at your opening once the length was thoroughly soaked with your sticky arousal. But even just the first breach felt like you were being split open, and the breath from your lungs ripped up your throat. Andrew’s head tilted back, and his eyes fell shut as his face pinched. 

In a tormenting pace, you inched yourself down onto his cock, walls clenching and relaxing at the thick intrusion. Your fingers never left the chain as you pushed your hand into Andrew’s chest for stability. And never once did he move under you. 

“You f-feel so big, Andy,” you whimpered when he was around halfway in. “Biggest cock I’ve ever ha-had.” 

A groan rumbled through his chest, and his eyes finally opened back up so he could watch your face twitch with pleasure. Your back arched during the last few inches, and a high pitched whine crawled up your throat once he was fully sheathed, his tip digging into spots you didn’t know could be reached. You swore he was up in your throat, and one glance down to the swell in your abdomen almost made you cum right then and there. 

Without moving much, you blindly reached down, fingers finding purchase in his wrist to raise his hand to span across your stretched skin.   

“You feel that, Andy?” you questioned. “That’s you. So, so, so deep inside me. Reaching all those places I can’t even get to.” Your chin dipped so you could look at him and into his glossy eyes. 

In languid rocks, you began to lift off his cock in shallow motions, his length barely pulling out before you dropped back down, cunt fully engulfing him. Your knees deeply dug into the mattress on either side of his hips, and your breasts slightly bounced as you started to quicken your up and down grinds. When your pelvises met, the coarse hairs that hid the base of his cock added needed stimulation to your clit with a tantalizing texture. 

After finding a good rhythm that danced between harsh downward sitting and slow dragging to feel his cock run across every ridge of your walls, you moaned, “Andrew. You can move. Fuck me, baby; fuck me like a good boy.” 

Large, calloused hands planted themselves on your hips, and Andrew began to meet your thrusts halfway, his grip helping aid you to slide along his length. On a particularly punchy roll, your body jolted, and your hand yanked on the chain to tighten the loop around Andrew's neck. The gold links dug into the sides of his pretty, freckled skin, and put pressure on his pulse points. 

You watched as his eyes grew hazy, mouth dropping to draw in labored breaths. After a few seconds, you loosened the chain, and some resemblance of cognitivity returned to his hazel hues. 

“You like that?” you asked, pulling your hips up only to drop them back down to pull a whimper from Andrew. “You like being choked? You look so hot under me, Andy. Letting me use you for my own pleasure.” 

“Use me,” he parroted. “Use me, please. I want to be goodhnnggg—” 

“Use you?” You yanked the chain again, cutting off his words to bring that fuzzy pleasure back to the front of his brain. “Oh, I will, but I need you to stay for me. Can you do that?” 

This time you held the chain taut for longer and started rolling your hips again. You kept the chain at a safe tightness, making sure not to pull it and completely cut off his air. But the longer you held it tightly, and the more Andrew’s eyes fluttered, you noticed how glossy they were becoming until the first tear slid down the side of his face. 

Your cunt constricted around his cock at the sight, and you dropped the chain out of a strange mix of surprise and concern as you quivered above him.

“Hey,” you softly said, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Are you okay? Are you hurting anywhere?” 

The last thing you wanted was to accidentally hurt Andrew, and while the sight of him crying did unspeakable things to your insides, you needed to make sure he was alright before continuing. 

“Good,” he croaked once he realized that you’d stopped, eyes hooded and mouth agape as he stared up at you. “So good. Not hurt.” 

His left hand rose and covered yours and gently guided your fingers back to the loop that rested hotly between his pecs. He finagled the ring back into your hand and gave a soft tug against it.

 “Again—again, please,” he begged pathetically, timber filled with desperation. “Don’t stop.” 

“Oh, Andy,” you cooed as your hips started to rock again. “So, so good for me.” 

You slightly curled the dangling chain around your pinky before holding the rest tightly against your palm and tugged. A strangled moan fell from Andrew’s parted lips, and the sheer sound had you involuntarily clenching around his cock. Another tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, and his chest stuttered under gasping breaths. He looked so beautiful like this: crying underneath the pleasure only you could give him. When his tears started falling more freely along with the whimpers from his mouth, your hips worked harder and faster, rising and falling to stuff yourself to the brim. 

Using his chest to balance, you dipped your head to get in closer until the small puffs of his hot breath fanned against your nose. You placed a small kiss to the corner of his parted lips before your tongue darted out to lap at the streaming tears. The small tang of salt was addicting, and it only made you want to see him sob. 

“Fuck!” Andrew cried out, hips bucking upwards as you gave your hardest pull yet, the chain constricting around his throat tightly, and you hoped there’d be a pretty bruise-shaped necklace to show for it. 

You clicked your tongue against your teeth, abruptly stopping all movement. Your unoccupied hand reached out and closed around his jaw, lifting and shaking his head to coax his eyes back open and make them focus on you. 

“What did I say?” you asked, tone deep, face inches from his. 

Andrew’s mouth flopped open, and he floundered for an answer even if all words seemed to escape him. The only expression he could muster was a dumb little thing, brows furrowed, corners of his lips tugged downward in a pout. 

You feigned disappointment and shook your head. Your hand left his jaw in order to take a new hold of the choke chain and loop. “Ya’ know, Andy, good dogs follow orders.” 

“No, no—” His hands scrambled, darting between the chain, your hands, and your hips like he didn’t know where to touch or even if he could touch. “Please, please. ‘M good—swear I’m good; ‘m your good boy.” 

“Then what did I say?” You ground down into his hip as hard as you could, and you relished in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?” 

“Then what did I say?” You squeezed your walls around him as hard as you possibly could, relishing in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?”

“Stay!” His chest heaved. “You told me to stay!” 

“Good boy,” you murmured, other hand coming up to gently brush his fallen curls from his forehead. He went crosseyed to track your movements. “My good boy.”

“Y-your good boy,” he stuttered.

Two fingers from your right hand hooked into the ring, and two fingers from your left slid between his lips, fingertips settling in the middle of his tongue. You tugged, and his lips closed around your digits, suckling softly as you found the perfect rhythm to drive the head of his cock into the soft, sensitive spots inside you. 

Each draw back made a wet, squelching sound, your inner thighs and his base already soaked with your essence. Your walls clenched and held around his cock, desperate to keep him in and hold him inside. 

“Doing—fuck—doing so well f’r me, Andy,” you slurred. The pleasure pit in your stomach was quickly tightening, and you knew you were so close to cumming, but there was just something missing. 

Andrew hadn’t moved since you told him the second time to stay still, but that’s not what you wanted at all anymore. In one fluid motion, you tilted to the side and used the momentum to flip you both. At the feeling of turning over, Andrew’s eyes popped wide open. His cock hadn't even slipped out, length still buried inside you. Your hips continued softly rocking against him, but the new position had somehow made him reach deeper. 

“C’mon, Andy,” you moaned when he shifted forward to put his hands on both sides of your face to tower over you. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You gave the chain a yank to emphasize your wants, and Andrew was quick to comply. 

His hips drew back before kicking forward, and your legs twitched at the force. Every thrust had your spine digging and pushing up the bed and your mouth opening for wanton moans to fill his ears. At his shoulder, your nails dug into his skin and worked with the tight chain to keep him against you. 

Andrew’s hazel eyes shifted along your face, gazing at how he was going to bring you over the edge from his cock alone. When your moans began to change into high-pitched songs that broke halfway through choked gasps, he sat up slightly and placed his hands under your legs to push them up until the tops of your thighs brushed against your breasts. 

“Oh—oh! Fucking—Andrew!” you mewled, head tipping back to push into the pillow. “So fucking deep—fucking me so well! Gonna make me cum!” 

With a fire lit in his stomach, his hips pistoned against you with wet plaps, stilling momentarily to grind and let his tip rut into your soft spot. By now, your walls gripped him so tightly it was almost impossible to draw back all the way. 

“Gonna-gonna—Andyyyyyyy!” Your body tensed beneath him as your orgasm ripped through you, sending shockwaves up and down your limbs. 

Andrew kept his pace slow, wanting to draw out as much pleasure as he could for you, but his hips started to stutter intermittently, waiting for you to tell him to either pull out and stay inside, not expecting to get to finish. However, when your legs locked together at his lower back to push him as deep as possible, he grunted loudly. 

“You can cum inside, Andrew,” you panted, still experiencing the softer licks of pleasure that made you feel floaty. For one last measure, you pulled the chain taut once again. “Be good and cum.” 

Andrew stilled in your grasp, only needing your words and chain for his cock to start spurting cum along your walls. A low whimper whistled through his partly opened lips, and his eyes closed once again to focus on the way the chain dug into his neck, cutting off what he needed for the haze to grow at the edges of his mind. He rutted against you in half, unfinished thrusts, a mix of his spend and your creamy arousal coating the length of his cock. 

When he had nothing left to give, his arms slightly gave out, and his weight settled on top of you. You hummed lowly at the feeling and finally dropped the chain in order to run your hands through his curls. Every so often, you’d lift your chin to place small kisses along his cheek and jaw, whispering soft praises into his skin. 

The two of you lied there for several moments, basking in the afterglow and breathing in the scent of sex and something so entirely each other, neither of you wanting to let go at all. It wasn’t until Andrew leaned back and his cock slid out of you did you sit up slightly to look at him directly. 

“Thank you,” you softly said, one of your fingers still twirling a stray auburn curl. 

Andrew tilted his head slightly. “For what?” 

“For this, silly boy,” you laugh, the sound airy with disbelief. “You found me again.” 

He looked rather bashful after you said that before his lips formed into a frown. “Should’ve found you earlier.” 

“Maybe . . .” you trailed, “but we’re here now, and I’m not letting you disappear from my life again, Andrew Cody.” 

Finally, he fully smiled at you, crooked teeth on display. “Okay.” 

“Good,” you said, head bobbing in a nod. “Because you wouldn’t have to just deal with me. I will put Cardinal on your ass before you could even think of leaving without saying something.” 

The swell of your estate held the powers of the world. 

Your larger-than-needed study had been transformed from your desk and small seating area to a resemblance of a half-circle, chairs all facing the small, elevated space near the back. One chair sat on the upper lip, and you were all but draped in between its two armrests. Your spine pressed straight against the chair, your leg crossed over the other, and your hands gently folded at your lap. You gazed around the room as your fellow high families mingled together, loudly discussing business as though this were an ordinary meeting.

In the past two months, the council had met only once, the result of Grace Le Domas winning her game and wiping out her entire family. Due to that, she’d invoked a difference clause than the one you were currently waiting to announce. By dawn after that particular meeting, she and her sister had been killed, and the Danforths had been reinstated as head of the high families, gaining the seat back mere hours after it had been taken away. You had not been in attendance, but you’d seen the way Titus Danforth forced Grace out of hiding only to kill her first and then her sister. His acts of dominance throughout the hunt had impressed you, another reason why you’d specifically asked for his attendance. 

When he’d walked through the door, your insides sang at the waft of his papery-money and patchouli scent that screamed alpha in a way that had your stomach flipping and core pooling. With his salt-and-pepper curls and thick stature, his presence alone seemed to command the room, even if you were technically the one with power. You watched as he tried not to smirk every time someone glanced at the Le Bail sigil ring on his finger. 

While the rest of the families, the ones lucky enough to be promoted after the demise of the Wilkinsons, the Rajans, the Wans, and the El Caidos, vied for information as to why you’d gathered them in the first place, Titus seemed to not care. He drank from a whiskey glass and failed to join any boisterous conversations. Although, he did make it a point to catch your gaze every few minutes, his hazel eyes meeting yours in a stare that only ended when you looked away each time. 

You slunked into your chair, and your fingers tapped rhythmically against the other. To get your meeting started, you only needed one more person to make it official, and you knew he was ever one for dramatics. 

A sudden three knocks on the study door had your eyes chasing the sound towards the back of the room in time to see the Lawyer walk through, only followed by a shorter woman who carried the large, ancient black book that was always present during any meeting. As he walked, he caught the eyes and flared nostrils of those in attendance. Unlike everyone who presented with a second gender, gaining a special scent unique to their person, the Lawyer held no scent nor seemed to have the specifics of a second gender. 

His burning blue eyes met yours, and the corners of his lip stretched into a smile. He did not acknowledge anyone else in the room as he walked past, a rude gesture to some, but the Lawyer was notorious for carrying out the will of Le Bail without stopping. And today, you were a part of that will. He stopped within a foot of where you sat and outstretched a hand for you to take. 

His fingers curled around yours warmly as he spoke. “Mr. Le Bail remains to be very happy with you.” 

“All thanks to his good fortune and blessing upon me,” you said, the words familiar on your tongue, your honeycomb and orange scent blooming at the praise. 

You’d been in Mr. Le Bail’s circle of high standing for years. His blessing had been bestowed after your first hunt, the one that ended with you, an omega, standing in the middle of a blood bath of alphas and betas. You’d won your hunt against the odds towering over you. And you hadn’t cowered, hadn’t rolled over and offered your body as a means of survival. You’d taken lives, and Mr. Le Bail acknowledged your commitment to his cause. 

You became untouchable. 

Suddenly, hunts weren’t an obligation to join; they were a choice, and for the most part, you chose to stay out of them. Besides, you made sure to stick to the quota of sacrifices written in your personal contract, something not available to the rest of the families. You’d been leading as head of the Du Pont family for five years after your father, mother, and older brother died, their bodies bursting into a red, gooey mess. Their sentence had been given after you’d turned them in for a break of contact. Your lack of hesitation and allegiance to your benefactor over your family made Mr. Le Bail very pleased. 

To show his gratitude, he’d given you a personal clause for when or if you ever wanted to replace your family members. 

For a few years, you waited, wanting to build something for yourself, because at the end of the day, alphas, especially males, always found ways to disappoint you. Each one you thought might be a contender turned out to be someone you’d rather ask Mr. Le Bail to wipe off the face of the earth than ever think of giving him a bond. However, the first time you had the pleasure of setting your eyes on Titus Danforth, you had the feeling that he could be yours one day. His attitude and petulance made room for him to grow, and you knew that he’d be a fine alpha once he got out from under his father’s thumb. After winning back the high seat, his twin alpha-sister, Ursula, had taken more of the business side while Titus continued to have an affinity for hunts and smaller jobs that dealt with the darker parts of his family’s contract. When you’d been introduced during a smaller gathering, you swore Mr. Le Bail gave deep approval of him with just a touch of your hands. 

Suddenly, your want to build your family and empire had Titus Danforth at its center. You wanted him in your nest; you wanted to wear his mark on your neck; you wanted to carry and give him his heirs. Upon those deep-rooted desires, you contacted the Lawyer, asking that he trigger a meeting of the high counsel as more of a complementary act. 

The Lawyer let go of your hand and turned around to face the room. “Thank you all for being here on such short notice,” his voice carried loud enough that everyone quieted down to listen. “Since we have some . . . newer families, and this is the first gathering since you all have been promoted within the circle, I will introduce myself and then the others. I am the sole attorney for Mr. Le Bail and the Le Bail organization, which is led by a council made up of the heads of six families: the Danforths, the Bellinis, the De la Vegases, the Kassels, the Frasers, and Miss Du Pont.” 

Everyone’s eyes turned towards you, and you simply smiled. 

“The reason you all are here is because Miss Du Pont has decided to invoke a clause of her own.” 

“Is she allowed to do that?” the head of the Bellini family questioned with a sneer. “I thought that contracts were only triggered by death or Mr. Le Bail himself.” His eyes trailed down your body with disgust. “Especially since she’s an omega.” 

The Lawyer stared at him boredly and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You’d be better off knowing to hold your tongue, or, if you must, use the proper respect when addressing Miss Du Pont.” 

Near Mr. Bellini, Titus scoffed loudly before taking a sip at his glass. “Are you a fucking idiot?” 

“Excuse me?” Mr. Bellini questioned, head whipping toward the other alpha. 

Titus gestured up towards you. “Do you even know what Du Pont stands for?” He hummed contemplatively. “Probably not since you’ve already painted yourself as an imbecile, so let me spell it out for you. It’s French for of the bridge, and that omega you’re staring at happens to be part of the bridge right to Mr. Le Bail. So I’d think twice about speaking your mind around her when she’s more than capable of cutting out your tongue and feeding it to you.” 

You rolled your shoulders to ease the building tension that formed while Titus basically defended you and sang your praises. From the corner of your eye, you could see that the Lawyer was also less miffed about being interrupted than he would have been if it hadn’t been Titus who’d done it. You understood that since Titus took the high seat, he’d been in talks with the Lawyer about certain things, and maybe the two of them had grown to share a mutual respect for the other. 

The Lawyer huffed loudly, drawing attention back to him. “As I was saying, Miss Du Point asked me to call this meeting of the High Council out of courtesy to announce that she has, as is her right by Mr. Le Bail, invoked her mating clause.” 

At his word, the alphas sucked in a large breath as they now looked at you with eyes filled with hunger and want. You, on the other hand, were only concerned with one hazel set. To your liking, they were set right on you, swimming with hunger but twinged with something deeper. Your hips shifted to release any heated pressure you could find. 

“As per her clause given directly from Mr. Le Bail in an attest to his blessing upon her, Miss Du Pont has chosen seven eligible alphas between the ages of twenty-five and fifty from the higher and middle families of the inner circles.” The Lawyer snapped, and his helper brought over the book. He flipped through the pages and stopped near the back. “I will read the rules out loud before announcing the names.” 

He held the book out to read, and it seemed as though everyone was at the edge of their seats. 

“While the mating clause is active, a hunt from sundown to sunrise will be held on the Du Point estate. During this particular hunt, the alphas of Miss Du Point’s choosing will compete against each other to show their worth and status. They will be given permission to hurt, maim, or even kill the other alphas if the situation sees fit. Alphas are not permitted to use any alpha commands while hunting.” 

“And who will we be hunting?” you heard one of the sons from the De la Vegas family ask. 

The Lawyer went to reply, but you beat him to it, only offering a one-worded answer. 

“Me.” 

A pin drop would have boomed in the silence that followed. In his seat, Titus straightened slightly, and his eyes never wavered from your figure. 

“Yes,” the Lawyer confirmed, “the alphas will be hunting Miss Du Pont. But I shall add that if any harm comes to her, Mr. Le Bail will be most . . . unhappy.” He scanned the room to get his point across. “Moving on, the alpha who finds Miss Du Pont by sunrise will be chosen as the winner. However, if she is not found, she also reserves the right to pick an alpha of her choosing.” 

He glanced over at you, needing to get your approval to continue. You nodded slightly. 

“To aid in the hunt and encourage a match between Miss Du Pont and an alpha, she will take a heat-inducer before the hunt starts. And the seven chosen alphas will be given a rut-inducer as well.” 

A few rumbles began to fill the air as scents deepened with lust; Titus, however, continued to stay silent. 

“Now that the rules of the hunt have been read, I will now announce the alphas chosen to participate.” He handed the book back to his helper and took your list from her other hand. “From the lower families, who have already been sent an invitation, we have Arthur Howard, Enrico De Borja, Sima Yoa, Charles Orsini, Rhodes Ashford, and Byron Coventry.” 

“That’s six?” Mr. Bellini pointed out. 

“Glad you’re capable of fucking counting,” Titus shot back, but his grin was unmistakable behind his glass. 

The Lawyer also fought back a grin, but he hid it better than Titus. 

“And for the one alpha chosen from the high family . . .”

You watched as most of the sons and even some of the fathers sat up a bit straighter. It was almost laughable the way they believed themselves to be eligible for your hunt, especially since all of the fathers already had a mate and family. No one seemed to catch onto that there was only one alpha in their midst who held the power of the world in a single ring on his thick finger. 

“Titus Danforth.” 

Like the cocky son of a bitch he was, Titus held up his glass towards you in a grateful manner, but the way his scent overpowered the rest told you that he was more intrigued and interested than his appearance allowed. Around him, though, the rest of the families stood in an uproar; one even had the notion to start stalking towards your seat, but he stopped right at the edge the moment you felt a burst of flame from behind you, the light of his outline illuminating your skin. 

The Lawyer pocketed the list and clapped his hands, bringing the room back to order. “This is the will of Mr. Le Bail. If you have any qualms, you are always welcome to bring them directly to him.” 

A few of the alphas looked downright terrified. Titus continued to look smug. 

“This meeting is adjourned,” the Lawyer announced, holding out a hand for you to take again. 

You quietly slipped your hand in his and rose from your seat. Once the alphas looked calm enough to pass by, the Lawyer led you through their throngs. You avoided eye contact with each of them, and their gazes filled with growing resentment and lust did little to throw you off. Yet, when you dared to look in Titus’ direction, his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel his eyes on you even when you left the room. You let go of the Lawyer’s hand once the door shut behind you, leaving enough time for you to be gone once the families began to vacate the premises. 

"Would you excuse me for one moment?” you asked. 

“Of course. I’ll be in the lobby, and we can go over the final details over dinner,” he responded, already heading in the direction of the front door. He’d been over enough times to know his way around. 

You turned to the left and made your way to the small, hallway bathroom. Once the door locked with a click, you leaned your head against the grain, allowing yourself to breathe in normal air without the conflicting scents in the room. While your chest slightly heaved, you slowly dipped your fingers below the waist of your pants. Instantly, you were met with a wetness you knew you’d had since Titus entered the study. 

Before your father was sent to hell, you would have been disgusted to have such a reaction to an alpha, let alone just his scent. That was something your father had instilled in you, a reflection of his resentment in having an omega offspring. Your first heat had been spent alone and in pain, and your father only said that it would build character to show that you could never be weak. 

But oh, did Titus Danforth make you pathetic. 

Your bottom lip crushed between your teeth as you gently circled your enlarged clit, the swipes gliding easily with your slick. You didn’t know if the alphas had left, but the need to relieve pressure had you not caring. A small moan-turned-whine ripped through your vocal cords, and your unoccupied hand slapped across your mouth to muffle the sounds. Your thighs tightened around your hand, and you bent over when you dipped a finger into your core. The added digit had your stomach tightening and your fingers speeding up. You tried your best to stay quiet, but as you reached your climax, a true whine slipped through the slots of your fingers, inner muscles contracting steadily around your finger.  

You were left panting against the door, knowing you’d taken far too long for a normal bathroom break. Quickly, you tried to compose yourself, patting down your shirt and wiping some of the dripping slick on a random towel you tossed to the floor. The only evidence were your pruned fingers and slightly sickeningly sweet scent. 

With a shaky breath, you unlocked the door and stepped back out into the hall. However, you didn’t even make it two steps before you ran into something solid enough that you jolted off balance. Twin hands clamped down on your upper arms and held you steady, and one small sniff told you exactly which alpha had caught you after a moment of self-pleasure. 

“Titus,” you breathed as you looked up into his hazel hues. 

If he hadn’t smelled you through the door, you were sure he had now by the way his nostrils flared with each breath he took. 

Instead of answering, Titus continued to stare down at you until his gaze caught onto your raised hands that hand planted firmly on his chest after he caught you. His right hand released your arm in favor of grabbing the hand that, moments ago, had been stuck down your pants. He brought it up to his face before leaning in, nose trailing up each finger, chest puffing out in deep inhales of your scent. 

If he were any other alpha, you would have wrenched out of his grasp and slapped him across the face. But this was Titus, the alpha you’d been dreaming of only to wake up in a puddle and heat at your core, the alpha you wanted to build something with. 

Titus surprised you even further when his tongue darted out and kitten-licked at your fingerprints, the hot muscle contracting around your skin in languid motions. He never broke eye contact through his ministrations of cleaning you up. Once you were sure all remnants of slick had been lapped up by his tongue, he pulled away. By now, his scent was overpowering, but all it did was send another rush of need and want for him through your body. 

You thought he might kiss you with the way his face suddenly leaned in towards yours, but he stopped inches away from your lips, hot breath fanning over the tip of your nose. His hazel eyes were blown, and you were sure yours reflected his as well. If Mr. Le Bail hadn’t graciously given you the contract, you would have offered for him to take you there and then against the walls of your home.

But you had to follow the rules, play the game. And Titus knew too.

His mouth parted slightly. “I just want you to know,” he whispered, tone promise-filled, “it’s going to be me, omega, . . . who gets you.” 

Your jaw tipped up to the point your lips could have almost touched, and you smiled. “I look forward to it, alpha.” 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Titus felt insatiable. 

It had only been a week since he’d had a taste of you, and the memory of your slick burned at the back of his throat every time he recounted the scene with a hand wrapped around his cock under the cover of night. 

He never knew how addicting an omega could be. All the women he’s ever been with were betas; he didn’t possess the patience to deal with the neediness of the fairer secondary sex or even with alphas for that matter—his own need for control made bedding the latter an exhausting affair. But now he was different, now he craved to have you again, drinking your scent and slick straight from the source. 

That specific brand-new craving washed over his body in waves as he stood with the rest of the lower families. The simmering heat of an upcoming rut due to the pill he’d swallowed almost thirty minutes ago, per the hunt’s rules, made his desires for you almost uncontainable, especially with how it warred with his disgust for the rest of the half-paked alpha pups that littered your study. But he knew he’d be able to act on both feelings as soon as they were all set free into your land. Then, he’d be able to make his disdain for these boys known in a much more visceral way.   

But he couldn’t help but think you’d done this on purpose, choosing to put him, an experienced alpha well in his prime, right in the middle of six alphas who probably didn’t know where to stick their knots. Easily, he’d be able to take each and every one of them down if the situation called for it, and he prayed that it would. His teeth itched with the want to sink them into deep jugulars and feel the slick of blood along his gums. His eyes grazed across the small crowd, and an unpleasant feeling crept up his throat when he couldn’t find you. Obviously, he knew you were probably preparing and wouldn’t even put yourself in the middle of this flock while pre-heat settled into your body. 

Smart girl.

He took another sip from his drink, the alcohol giving him a pleasant buzz to wash out the growing scent of pre-rut stink from the others. One in particular, however, had him almost gagging from it: Byron Coventry and his scent of wet leaves and sour apple. He was one of the most pathetic excuses an alpha Titus had ever come across. He wanted to break his little neck every time Byron opened his mouth, vulgar fantasies about you spewing from his teeth. But Titus kept himself in check; he was better than the rest, and he had nothing to prove. He knew he was the perfect mate for you, would even bet that Mr. Le Bail was also in contempt.  

He blessed whoever was listening when he spotted the Lawyer slowly making his way to the front of the study, the same place he’d been a week ago as he announced your clause to the rest of the high families. 

“Attention please,” he announced, effectively quieting the room once again. “The sun will dip below the horizon in approximately ten minutes. Miss Du Pont has been given those moments as a head start. Please take this time to prepare yourselves and whatever you have brought.” He steeled his blue eyes. “And just remember, if Miss Du Pont is harmed in any way . . . well . . . let’s just say you won’t see tomorrow. I know you all are very familiar with how Mr. Le Bail punishes those who break his rules.” 

The small crowd of seven scattered soon after, Titus going directly for his war hammer he stowed in the corner upon his arrival. Its heavy metal was a comforting weight in his palm. With it, he had never lost a hunt. He twirled it once before resting it over his shoulder. 

“What are you going to do with that old man? Knock her unconscious?” Bryon called out while shoving his guns into their holsters at his waist. “I’ll tell you that omegas are much sweeter when they’re awake to squirm a bit, especially when they get to fight back. Makes it all worth it when you get to just take them.” 

Titus rolled his eyes and scoffed. “This is going to go right through your skull.” His voice carried an assuredness that sent a visible shock and shiver through Byron. He stepped away and placed his glass back down onto the bar. 

The next seven minutes were tortuous, By now, every breath Titus took singed his nose as the overwhelming reek of rut permeated the air. Every so often, small growls would slip through clenched teeth, and Titus wondered if someone would explode into a violent frenzy before the hunt could even begin until the Lawyer reappeared at the entrance to the study this time. “The alphas will be let out one at a time, starting with the youngest and so on.” 

“The old man is going to fall behind,” Byron jeered with a snort. 

The Lawyer squared his shoulders. “Mr. Coventry, I can assure you that Mr. Danforth is more than capable. Do note that he also has never lost a hunt in the thirty plus years that he’s been a part of Mr. Le Bail’s circle. Not only that, but he also holds the highest seat of the council.” 

Titus stood a bit straighter, and the rest went silent as they lined up. Titus stood directly behind Byron, even though there was a twenty-year gap between them. He lowered his head toward the younger alpha’s ear. 

“If you even think of taking her by force, I will hunt you down well after all of this is over and personally escort you to the gates of hell myself.” 

He straightened as though nothing had happened, but the tell-tale whiff of fear further curdling Byron’s repulsive, aroused rotten scenet had Titus smirking. 

Just as Titus was the last to be left in the study, the Lawyer held out an outstretched hand, stopping him mid-step, to which Titus cocked a questioning eyebrow. Without saying anything, the Lawyer withdrew something tightly wound from his pocket and gave it to Titus. 

“A small gift, if you will,” the Lawyer stated with a wink. “Miss Du Pont sends her regards.” He stepped aside from the door and let Titus through. 

The handful of fabric Titus kept in his palm taunted him to unravel it as he walked. Before he could venture too far into the open grassy field that led to the forest licking the edge of your estate (much like his own), he paused, set down his war hammer, and brushed his thumbs over the fabric to straighten it out. His mouth went dry when he realized what he was holding. Another brush of his thumb came back wet, and Titus brought the digit to his mouth and sucked, the sweetness of your slick latching onto his tastebuds. 

He’d already been half-hard before under the effects of the inducer, but the smallest taste of you had his cock fully swelling and throbbing in his pants. 

You’d given him your underwear, and the thought of you running around with your cunt bare under whatever you were wearing had him pushing the fabric into his back pants pocket and stalking through the field with a fire under his steps. Tall grass flattened underneath his black hunting boots. Once the softer ground turned into hard dirt covered in leaves and twigs, he slowed his steps, taking deep breaths as he walked further. At the entrance, an onslaught of honeycomb and orange made him dizzy but also impressed. In attempts to throw the alphas off, you’d wiped slick across the bark of random trees in different directions. 

His chest finally rumbled at the thought of such a skilled omega, one that would be on par with his alpha. 

Not knowing where to start, he continued to step into the trees, their crowns shadowing him from the moonlight. He could smell a few alphas on his path, but they either dimmed or stopped abruptly. A few sticks snapped, and his head would whip in that direction, nose flaring to pick up any scents, but he knew you were too smart to be wandering around. By now, you probably had already found a place to hide, somewhere only you knew since this was your land. Instead of having the upper hand, the ball was in your court. 

Titus set out to find running water, a stream perhaps. Fresh water meant you could cross and mask your scent in the ever-changing bank, the mud helping to mask footprints. His ears picked up the sound of a trickle to the right, and he turned in the opposite direction. You would have also known that alphas would first go for the water, the oldest trick in the hunting book. If you were any normal prey, he would have had you in minutes. But you were practically his equal, the two of you holding some type of the highest blessings from Mr. Le Bail. 

By three hours in, Titus hadn’t found so much a trace of you, and he was starting to believe that you would be the one to last the entire twelve hours until sunrise. However, a small chirp from a couple yards in front of him had him pausing, war hammer poised in his hands. Another twig snapped, and he caught his first voice of the night. 

Only, instead of belonging to you, it belonged to someone entirely different, someone Titus had been keeping in mind to silence his bloodlust. 

“Come out, come out, omega,” Byron sang too loudly into the quiet atmosphere. “I know you’re close. That cute little noise you gave out—” He chuckled deeply. “Means your body is just begging for me.” 

Titus ground his teeth, and his jaw clenched tightly. His fingers gripped around the war hammer’s shaft to the point of white knuckles. He kept his steps soft, eyeing where sticks lay in his path, careful to step over them. 

“You smell so fucking sweet; I bet you’re just waiting to roll over and present. You’re going to feel so good around my dick. My knot’s been begging for sweet pussy for so long, and to think, the next one is going to belong to Mr. Le Bail’s pet.” 

Much to Titus’ horror, another soft chirp sounded at the same audible tone as Byron’s voice, meaning you and he were too close for Titus to be comfortable with. In any other circumstance, Titus would leave you to it; he’d seen the way you took down each and every alpha and beta in your hunt while barely looking like you’d broken a sweat. But this was entirely different. You were under the effects of a deepening preheat, something you’d gone into willing to find out which alpha would fight to keep you safe. And Titus would rather cut off his hands than let an alpha like Byron Coventry lay his eyes on you like this, let alone a singular finger. 

Thankfully, the man seemed to enjoy hearing himself rather than looking out for his safety, giving Titus the perfect cover to get in closer. Your thick scent grew sweeter the more he walked, and he wondered how long Byron would be able to control himself with the heavy pheromones of a fertile omega swimming in the air. Even Titus could feel his own self control waning. 

Byron gave off a low growl, and he continued stalking through the forest like a child having a tantrum. “Fucking show yourself. If you’re waiting for that old man, I’ll tell you now that you’ll be so disappointed with an alpha like him. I bet he couldn’t even get it up, much less pop a knot.” His torso twisted desperately. “I bet Mr. Le Bail is disappointed with you. He took pity on a sad, family-less omega. It’s a shame really that you’ll lose his favor the moment you mate with someone. You can’t be his if you belong to someone else, and baby, you’ll belong to me.” 

Like a whistle, a whine cut through the air like a knife, and Titus knew he had to act now. He threw caution to the wind and leaped out into the small clearing where the moonlight reached through the leaves. He’d been successful in getting an ambush on Byron, the younger alpha’s knees crumpling as Titus’ greater weight tackled him to the ground. 

Titus was met with a hard hand against his jaw, but he was faster. He wrenched the hand off and pinned the wrist down into the dirt. While Byron desperately tried to claw for his guns, the ones currently in the holster Titus ripped away from his belt and threw it behind him. Without looking away from Byron’s now terrified face, Titus leaned over and grabbed his war hammer, the sharp, pointed end facing the side of the younger alpha’s head, right above his ear near his temple. By the time Titus pinned him fully, his scent had deepened from papery-money and patchouli to a full forest singeing with fire. He leaned over and straddled Byron’s chest, knees digging into his arms to keep him still while holding Byron’s face toward the side, cheek down into the forest floor.  

“I did warn you,” Titus whispered, “that I’d put this right through your skull.” 

He didn’t even wait for a reply before brutally shoving the sharp end straight through Byron’s head, the tip cracking bone and giving way through brain matter like a hot knife through butter. Titus didn’t relent until the point came out the other side. Blood instantly spurted, thick drops hitting Titus’ chin and cheeks and neck. He closed his eyes and listened fully to the way Byron squirmed in the last attempts of his body fighting back, his soul not knowing that his brain had just been decimated. His huffs of anguish and small jolts were a full symphony to Titus’ ears. He kept a firm grip until Byron’s life force oozed out completely just like his blood and brain had. Once he was sure the alpha would never rise again, Titus pushed up from the ground, spine straightening as he went quiet, only his panting remained the only sound in the air. He grabbed onto the war hammer shaft and yanked the pointed end out, Byron’s body following before slipping back down to the earth. 

Titus knew he was dead, but that didn’t stop him from swinging his weapon over his shoulder and bringing the mallet end back down. Byron’s face gave way under the force, the rest of his skull and skin splattering across the ground. Titus straightened as he stood to his full height, ears alert to catch the smallest noise from where you hid. 

“Come on, omega,” he whispered. “Tell me where you are.” 

He was gifted with another chirp directly in front of him. When he looked over, he met your wide but pleased gaze, the bottom of your face hidden by a tree that gave way into a divot in the earth. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had a nest of some sort, but his curiosity would need to be pushed aside for now. Even from where he stood, he could tell that you were beginning to fade into the beginning stages of your heat. 

Without waiting, Titus rushed over, and you gave him yet another chirp in return at his eagerness. His senses swam when he finally halted in front of you, dropping down to his knees to be at your eye level. 

You whimpered loudly when his scent finally hit your nose, finding key hints of a metallic twang you knew well to be blood. You’d heard the short-lived dual between him and Byron, and Titus would personally be rewarded for taking him out. And now that you had him on his knees in front of you, you weren’t going to let him go like you had to last week after he’d found you in the hall. 

“Titus,” you whimpered. 

He shuffled on his knees until he slightly hovered over you but still kept his distance. Unlike most, Titus had read the clause and understood that even if he had found you, you still held the ability to refuse his advances. It would hurt him, yes, and he’d have to lock himself away to ride out his rut, but if you did, he’d stay to make sure no other alpha found you before dawn. 

He waited for you to say something, but all you did was chuff and hook your ankles into his strong forearms, thighs contracting as you began to pull him inward. 

“If you don’t do something,” you hissed, “I will get myself off and make you watch.” 

Titus responded with a warning growl that had your head tilting back to bare your neck once the sound met your ears. He took a hold of your ankles and secured them around his hips. 

“No need to get so nippy,” he scoffed. “I’ll give you what you want, but you need to say please. Manners are important after all.” 

You echoed his scoff, making sure to push it to a louder degree. “I bet you’ve never said fucking please once in your life.” 

He tsked while his hands busied at the dirtied hem of the dress you wore. “You’ll be surprised to know that I have, in fact, said please on multiple occasions.” He looked up into your eyes. “Let me hear you say it.” He paused with a deadly smirk. “Please.”

Saliva pooled around your tongue, and you quickly swallowed it down. “Please.” 

“Good girl,” he muttered before fully lifting your dress to display your bare lower half. He didn’t even attempt to hold back the groan building in his throat at the sight of your moonlit, glistening heat. 

Without the added layer, your scent was so thick Titus could taste it on his tongue. 

“You’ve been like this since your headstart.” He didn’t pose it as a question since your slick-soaked underwear were still stuffed in his back pocket. “Just sitting here, waiting for an alpha to come find you and—” 

“Waiting for you,” you interrupted, not once flushing in embarrassment at your confession. “There was never going to be a different alpha, Titus. It was always going to be you no matter what.”

Titus set the hem of your dress to drape across your lap, and in the next breath, he leaned forward until his mouth met yours in a searing kiss. There was no time for lazy motions since your heat was building with every moment, so Titus impatiently mouthed wetly at your lips. Your hands planted themselves on both of his cheeks while he bent so low you didn’t have any other choice but to slowly lean back against the earth. His size towered over you, and he could easily kill you right then and here; the thought had your hips bucking wildly into his, and you moaned loudly against his teeth. He ripped back at the feeling, saliva dripping from his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, “I need to taste you.” 

A high-pitched whine flew from your lips as he leaned back in to mouth and suck at your scent gland. He didn’t dare break the skin, knowing your bed lay waiting back at the estate to grow a bond, but he did allow himself to lick hotly across it. 

“T-Titus—fuck—please, I-I need—” 

He nipped carefully at the skin next to the gland. “I know what you need.” 

His right hand glided across your hip and over your thigh to dip near your core. The first brush of his fingertips against your outer folds had you keening. In return, Titus rumbled, the two of you communicating at the deepest instinct possible. He slowly dragged his fingers through your slick until they pressed into the hardened bud of nerves that sent lightning ripping up your spine. In a gentle yet firm circular motion, he fiddled with your clit, drawing out more moans from the depths of your lungs. 

“Titus!” you screamed out into the forest. 

“There she is,” he muttered, lips moving downwards, hips folding to allow him to get his face near your core. Before going any further, he took the largest inhale possible and moaned deeply. He had half a mind to run his chin and cheek through your slick, wanting to get your scent embedded into his pores. 

But that was something for a different time. 

Now, he needed to finally taste you right from the source. 

His tongue peaked out from his lips and dragged upward from your fluttering hole to your clit, the pressure making your back arch beautifully. He drank and drank and drank your slick like a dehydrated man in a never-ending desert. Each swipe had his mouth full of the scented and sweetened lubrication that your body pumped out in preparation for you to take a knot—his knot. 

Just the thought had him groaning, and the vibrations almost sent you over the edge. You needed to hold onto something, and your fingers quickly found his curls and yanked at his roots. The sting seemed to spur him on, so you pulled harder, keeping his face buried between your thighs. 

“Titus,” you panted heavily. “I need—fingers—oh, fuck, finger, please!” 

“So polite,” he spoke into you with a smirk and raised eyebrow. “I knew you could do it.” 

He gave you exactly what you wanted in the form of his thick pointer finger slipping into your innermost parts. If he were an inexperienced alpha, he probably would have cum from imagining your oh-so tight muscles contracting around his cock. 

The additional pressure and finger thicker and longer than your own had you catapulting towards your climax. 

“So fucking tight,” he grated, finger thrusting in and out in wet squelches. “How am I even going to fit my knot into here?” 

“Titus, I’m close; I’m—” you squealed. “Alpha!” 

Without warning, Titus thrust in and curled both his pointer and middle fingers against that soft spot deep inside and sucked hard on your clit simultaneously. You had no warning. You howled with a dropped jaw as you came, eyes rolling back deeply into your skull. Your back arched completely off the ground, but Titus pressed you back down with a large hand splayed across your lower belly. He kept up his thrusting but softened his licks into savored movements as you came down from the high. He only stopped when you pushed a hand against his forehead, a silent signal that you needed a minute. With a wet pop, he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. He shoved both of them in his mouth while maintaining eye contact with you, your slick permanently etching into his tongue. 

Once done, he leaned back over you for another wet, opened-mouthed kiss. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, he fed you the lingering taste of your sweet, honey-like arousal. His other hand cupped your cheek, holding you in place against him. Your skin felt scorching and feverish against his fingertips, and it dawned on him that the orgasm he just gave you hadn’t been enough to hold off your heat. No, instead, it’d been the spark to light the inferno within your belly. 

And now he was here, cock straining against his pants and body being consumed by a rapidly approaching rut with an unmated omega seconds away from a full blown heat beneath him. He swiftly yanked the hem of your dress back down before gathering you into his arms. With cracking knees, he staggered off the ground into a standing position. 

You whined confusingly at the sudden change in position, completely out of it due to your overtaking heat, and he gently hushed you with a soft rumble of his chest. 

“I need to get you back,” he growled, taking a large step in the direction of your estate. His hands held you tightly against him. “Need to fuck you; need to knot you; need to have you baring my mark by sunrise.” 

His words added fuel to the already burning fire in your core, and you couldn’t help the anticipating whimper that followed. Because the moment Titus got you back to your room, to your nest, all cards were off the table and he was free to take you as he pleased, to take you as his mate. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You curled further into Titus as he practically kicked down the door to your master bedroom. 

Getting back to the estate had been thankfully uneventful. Either the Lawyer knew enough to send the rest of the alphas packing, or the utter stench of Titus’ possessiveness that infected your scent had them backing away without a second thought. 

Whatever it was though gave you and him a clear path with Titus stopping at nothing until he got you where he wanted. He had carried you the entire way, but after he closed the door behind him with his foot, he set you down. 

“Strip and get in your nest,” he uttered, making sure no trace of alpha command seeped his timber. 

You obeyed without thinking, instincts taking completely over the longer you drank in his scent. The dress ripped off in one try, leaving you completely bare. Goosebumps raised across your flushed skin. Your bedroom had been prepared, much cooler than normal, to combat your elevated temperature while you went through the highs and lows of your heat. The cooled air pebbled your nipples into stiff peaks as you walked over to your nest, knees hitting the soft blankets while you crawled into the middle. 

Behind you, Titus locked the door and double checked for any weaknesses, instincts roaring at him to keep you protected, keep you all to himself. Under no circumstance would he allow anyone—alpha, beta, or even omega—to interrupt the two of you. After making sure the lock would hold, he turned back around to the sight of you outstretched across the sheets looking straight out of his most dirty dreams, right hand already swirling around your clit, fingers barely dipping into your hole with legs spread wide while your left hand pinched and grabbed at your breasts. 

Titus began peeling off his muddy and bloodied clothes as he walked closer. He kept his boxers on even if he knew they’d be off in moments because he needed you to want this, to want him, and more importantly, to beg for it. Even if his alpha screamed at him to take, take, take, he wouldn’t dare enter your nest without permission. He stood next to the bed near your torso, watching and waiting for you to let him in. 

Through lidded eyes, you looked over and mewled, “Alpha, please. Need you in here with me.” 

That’s all he needed to scramble through the blankets of your nest. 

Titus immediately took his place over you, slotting his hips between your legs and beginning to grind against you. Your thighs parted wide for him automatically and wrapped around his waist.

While Titus focused on covering your neck in as many marks as he could at the moment, your fumbling hands reached for his length, eager to get what you’d been truly craving. A whine, high pitched and pathetic, left your lips when your way was blocked by his underwear. The material was already soaked through, covered in the tantalizing scent of your slick mixing with his precum. 

“C’mon, darling,” Titus’s low voice rumbled through you where his lips were pressed to your neck, right over your scent gland. You longed for his teeth to sink in, and your incisors itched to leave your own mark on his neck. You wanted to be his and you wanted him to be yours. “Tell me what you want.”

“Titus!” 

“Mmm,” he hummed, his cock throbbing at how you so deliciously said his name. He was still mouthing over your scent gland but being careful to keep his teeth to himself. “Use your words.”

Your mind was growing fuzzy, the burning heat that left you aching for him was starting to hurt. You were so empty. If he didn’t hurry this up, you’d have to take matters into your own hands, and you knew in your frenzied state, you’d be unable to satisfy either of you.

“You, need you,” you were pawing at the fabric that kept you from what you really wanted.

“And what do you need from me?” 

“For you,” the frustration and neediness you were feeling sharpened your senses for just a moment. Your hand squeezed around his length through his briefs.  “To claim me.”

Titus groaned at the pressure and the aggression sharpening your scent. He loved to see you deadly and dangerous, a beautiful juxtaposition to your omegan sweetness.

“I will claim you-”

“Now,” you squeezed harder, your voice dropping into a growl. “Don’t be a fucking pussy. I thought you were a big, strong alpha. Maybe I should have found someone else to get the job done.”

“Shut up,” Titus’s hand closed over your neck, fingers digging into the sides. 

Your lips opened, dying to egg him on, but no words came out. The sheer force of his command had rendered you speechless. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure. Yes. This was what you needed. You wanted your alpha – and he was yours, there was no doubt about it – to take what he needed from you. He was the most powerful man in the world, an alpha who made other men tremble in their boots, and you wanted to see him become a slave to his baser instincts, with no choice but to indulge in everything you had to offer him. You wanted him to take it, to make you his.

“Oh, so that’s what you wanted, huh?” Titus laughed as your clarity faded away, your eyes glazing over and your chest heaving with every gasping breath. “You want me to command you? To take control? To make every decision since your empty little brain is too dumb to do anything except beg for my knot?”

Though your paralyzed vocal chords wouldn’t let you make a sound beyond a pathetic whine, your lips moved, pleading inaudibly.

Yes, yes Titus, please.

His hips jerked forward, rutting into your hand. “You want me to fuck you until you cry while you just take it like the good omega you are?”

Titus’s order was wearing off, allowing a squeak that vaguely resembled a ‘yes’ to fill the minimal space between your bodies. His chest rumbled as he hummed in delight. The fingers wrapped around your neck loosened and lifted as Titus backed away from you. He settled on his knees between your spread thighs, knocking your hand away from where you were halfheartedly trying to stroke his cock. Under normal circumstances, Titus would have scoffed and berated you for such a pisspoor attempt at pleasing him, but with his rut looming on the horizon, the clumsy squeezing was working him up much more than he’d like to admit.

He carefully pried your hands away from him, holding them tight. Head tilting, he took a moment to look over your body. You were flushed and panting, staring up at him with desperate eyes and a hungry expression. Your nipples were hard and your breasts heaved with every breath. His eyes trailed down, taking in the softness of your abdomen, the flare of your hips, and the perfectly soft, bare skin between your legs, baring your cunt to his hungry eyes. He’d have to hide your razors in the future, but for now he was grateful to see every inch of you. You made the perfect picture of a needy omega in the throws of heat.

Letting go of your hands, he slid his own over your thighs. His mouth watered at the silky smoothness of your skin beneath his palms. He wanted to trace every inch of you with his tongue, but right now there were more pressing matters.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he patted the outside of your thigh.

“No,” your ability to speak was returning. “Titus, like this-”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he let the power seep into his words as he shuffled back on his knees. “And I will give you everything you desire.”

You were unable to resist the order, and your body was turning over before you could protest. Even though you’d chosen the blankets specifically for their softness and comfort, the fabric grated against your skin, shooting unpleasant sparks through each of your nerves. Nothing felt as good as his skin on yours.

“Please,” you whimpered. You settled into position, shaking arms struggling to hold up your body. The emptiness in your cunt was terribly painful now at this point.

“Present.”

You let out a loud and obscene moan as Titus forced you into position without lifting a finger. The arch in your back deepened, hips tilting and thighs spreading wide to give Titus the perfect view of where you needed him the most. Your arms gave out, your face pressing into the blankets against your will, but god did it feel good. Despite the contortion and the strain it should have caused your muscles, it felt so good, like this was how you should always be. Like any other placement of your limbs was unnatural and wrong.

He knew that the combination of your heat, his commands, and the eroticism of the situation the two of you found yourselves in were the driving forces behind your obedience, but it still stroked his ego. A beautiful omega, a powerful woman in your own right, bending over for him and begging for his touch. It was addictive. Titus knew he’d crave this everyday for the rest of his life and, after he claimed you, he’d be able to have it.

“So good for me, omega,” his hands cradled your ass. You whined at the touch, trying to push back into his touch, but he tutted at you. “Stay still, darling.”

“Titus,” you turned your head so your cheek pressed against the mattress. Titus’s command to present meant that you were unable to lift your head up, but you still tried your best to look over your shoulder at him. “Please, it hurts!”

“Shh, ok,” his knees nudged your thighs open wider as he took his position behind you. The throbbing tip of his cock parted your folds, stroking through them from top to bottom. You mewled, but the hand on your ass kept you from trying to push back. “You want me to claim you as mine?”

“Yes!” Your fingers tangled in the sheets.

“You want to wear my mark?” Titus’s hand moved, tracing your spine to curl around the back of your neck. His thumb swiped over the swollen gland there. “Right here?”

“Yes!” Every point of contact between your bodies burned.

“And you want me to put my heir right here?” His hand glided down over your back and around to your stomach until it stopped just over your mound, pressing into the skin.

“Yes, Alpha, please!”

His words were whipping you up into a frenzy, your muscles twitching as you held your position. You needed him more than you needed air.

“You want me to mount you and fuck you and fill you up until you can’t think about anything but my cock?”

“Yes, yes, Titus-”

“Then take it.”

Titus thrust forward, sinking in until his hips met your ass. The entire length of his cock buried inside your cunt, barely inflated knot included. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head, mouth falling open as your legs shook. Finally having that empty ache soothed was enough to push you over the edge. You came, your shaking legs spreading even wider to accommodate his body pressed behind yours. You were too far gone for words now, mewling and drooling as your eyelids fluttered. A pleasant buzzing filled your ears, almost drowning out Titus’s groans at your tightening and spasming walls.

“God, fuck,” he panted. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pressing against your cervix and forcing a sob of pleasure from your throat.

He had taken the edge off, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until the entire world could see his mark on your neck and his child growing in your stomach.

Titus had the presence of mind to give you a moment to adjust. He thought he was showing you some kindness before he lost all of his self control as his rut took over, but that was the last thing you needed. His hands had found their place on your hips, holding you steady, but he could feel you trying to push back against him.

“Greedy little thing,” Titus withdrew, slowly dragging his hard length along your walls until only his head remained tucked within your core. He slammed back in, your body jolting forward from the force of his thrust. “I tried to be nice, but you just want it so bad, huh?”

Titus’s body folded over yours. His chest slotted against your back, pressing you further into the sheets and pinning you down. The change in angle had you gasping. He was rutting deep into you as he growled and groaned. It felt blissful to have him piston in and out of you while his body covered yours. 

“S’this what you want?” One of his hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back and to the side to bare your neck to him. He nosed over the skin, his warm breath ghosting over your scent gland sent shivers down your spine. 

You let out a garbled moan that might have been a yes. His teeth scraped over the gland and you tightened around him again, walls trying to suck him deeper.

Titus chuckled, his other hand moved up to slide two of his fingers between your lips. They closed around them immediately, your tongue sliding between them, stroking along them like you longed to do with his cock.

“Silly little baby,” Titus’s tone was mocking, but he was breathing nearly as hard as you were. “Just needed something in your mouth.”

His teeth clamped down on your shoulder, inches away from where you longed to feel his fangs pierce your skin. Even if it wasn’t a true claiming bite, the pain was still blissful, mingling with the extreme pleasure of his unceasing thrusting into your cunt to throw you over the edge once again.

“Yes,” he didn’t slow down, even as you cried out around his fingers and your nails ripped through the sheets as you scrambled for something to tether you to reality. You held on, the sound of the fabric tearing joining your desperate noises and the obscene, wet pops of his rapidly swelling knot being forced in and out of your entrance. Through your rhythmic clenching, it was almost painful to be stretched so wide, but you needed to feel it grow even bigger. “Cum on my cock. Just like that.”

Despite his hard and fast thrusts taking the edge off your heat, the emptiness within you was growing more and more demanding. You needed his knot so badly.

“Knot!” The plea clawed its way out of your throat, muffled and barely coherent around his fingers. “Knot, please Alpha!”

“Don’t you know better than to speak with your mouth full?” Titus growled into your ear. The low vibrations of his cruel words rumbled through his body into yours.

“Please, please, please,” you were crying, fat tears rolling down your cheeks to mix with the drool leaking out around his fingers, until he pulled them out. You were finally able to speak, but the only words you could force out were some jumbled variations of please and Alpha! 

“Yeah?” He was getting close. The knot at his base growing more and more every second as he worked himself up to the edge. “You need your alpha’s knot?”

“Yes!” You tried to reach back to grab at him, but Titus’s hands caught yours, holding them together in between your bodies. He was bigger and stronger than you and you were unable to free yourself. “Please! Please, please, please, please.”

“I’ll give you what you need,” he was breathing hard, thrusting even harder into you as his knot grew. “Be a good omega and cum on my knot. C’mon, you can do it.”

With one final thrust, he bottomed out. His knot swelled to its maximum size, locking him deep inside you. Titus’s teeth sank into your scent gland. His canines broke the skin, a swell of your sweet blood coating his tongue and gums, and both of you came together instantly. You could feel the bond snapping into place while his cock twitched and emptied deep into your cunt.

Titus’s groans were muffled into your flesh, but your moans flowed freely, intertwined with pleasured purrs that rumbled through your chest. Your body jerked and thrashed beneath his as the sheer amount of ecstasy blazing through your bloodstream rendered you nearly mindless. Through the bond, you could feel his pleasure, too, as it solidified, your minds and souls linking. It only worked to drive your own orgasm into overdrive. 

You sobbed his name, squeezing hard around his knot. Every throb of his cock spilled more and more of his release into you, until you felt too full. Titus’s cock was big on its own, but with his knot the size of your fist filling you up as well, all of the cum he was still pouring into was stretching your body beyond the limits you’d thought possible. 

He still hadn’t let go of your neck, but he’d released your hands, and they flopped to the mattress. Your strength was sapped, all of your energy going to the involuntary milking of your inner walls clenching tightly around his knot.

“A-alpha,” you whimpered. “Too–too full!”

“Oh, fuck,” Titus’s teeth finally withdrew from your gland when his hand traveled down to settle over your stomach. The skin of your normally flat stomach was slightly distended, a combination of his cock, his knot, and the obscene amount of cum he’d pumped into you. He groaned, and you whimpered in response when his cock jerked and another, new wave of his spend spurted out. “Fuck, omega, you’re so full of me. Such a good omega for taking it all. You’re going to give me a pup in no time.”

A wave of tremors washed over you. Your knees slipped against the blankets that were slick with sweat.

“Let’s get comfortable,” Titus gently maneuvered your locked together bodies until the two of you were laying back to chest. He curled around you, making sure to avoid tugging on his knot. “We’ll be here for a while longer, darling.”

Lying down took the pressure off your muscles, allowing you to fully relax and enjoy the comfort of your new mate’s embrace. Despite the discomfort you still felt—especially as his release still trickled into you—you couldn’t help the contented purrs that continued to rumble through your chest.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” the sound reverberated through your body into his, echoing through your bones and lighting up the most base instincts in Titus. He longed to make you purr like this for him every day for the rest of his life. “My pretty little mate.” 

He leaned back enough to eye his mark. It was red and angry and the perfect shape of his teeth, but it was his—you were his. After a lifetime of waiting for a mate, and after a week of waiting to claim you, there was no doubt that he’d be yours for life. His tongue darted out and lapped hotly across your raised skin, drawing a pleased hiss from behind your teeth. 

“Mine,” you happily sighed. “My alpha.” 

The two of you lied there, basking in the warmth of your shared bodies, hands wrapped around each other and clinging to wherever you could reach. However, it didn’t take long for the quelled, white-hot neediness to grow and simmer back under your skin. Even before Titus’s knot had gone down, your hips began rocking against him, shooting a fresh wave of pleasure through you both, the feeling much more intense than it had at the beginning. The bond was to thank for that. 

“Easy,” Titus grumbled. “Knot’s not gone yet.” 

“Don’t care,” you gasped when it notched firmly at your hole, allowing a small glop of his and your mixed essence to spill, aiding in the short back and forth thrusts you were trying to pull out of him. “Need you again; need it to take.” 

Titus laughed lowly, already in the process of rolling you back over to hover over your spine. “Oh, it’ll take, omega. By dawn, you will be carrying our heir.” His hips jerked, and he pushed his cock back in, his knot disappearing from view into your cunt. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

“baby, you’ll give me a big head with all this attention,” he murmurs on one of his nights off. he’s lounging on his couch, one arm resting against the headrest and the other wrapped loosely around your waist.

you’re straddling his lap, hands buried in his graying locks and lips peppering loving kisses along salt and pepper stubble, nosing the area occasionally. you giggle against his skin, pressing a kiss to his cheek before answering, “good. you deserve it.”

you’re his sweet little girlfriend who adores every inch of him, kissing him any chance you get, having your hands on him in one way or another (interlacing your hands at the grocery store, linking arms while walking, you name it. you’re on him.)

he loves it.

he’s just as obsessed with you, too. he watches with rapt attention when you apply your skincare and makeup, especially your gloss which shines against whatever light hits them. he has to resist not kissing the sweet stickiness off your lips every time. sometimes he fails, earning a giggle and whine from you that you’ll have to reapply it.

“honey, i think i’m way past the age of saving my wrinkles,” he murmurs, amused as you spread a moisturizing cream all over his face, gently massaging the product into his skin.

“oh, hush and let me do my thing,” you huff, one side of your mouth tugging up but you remain concentrated.

“yes, ma’am.” he grins.

he loves seeing you get all dolled up for him when you’re going on a date.

his brows raise as you smooth out nonexistent creases of a pretty little dress you got that hugs your figure in a way he thinks should be illegal. it makes him wonder how on earth he managed to snag a pretty thing like you, getting all dressed up for his old ass. hell, he’s old enough to be your father. 

you have no business dating anyone but in your age range and here you are, with him. he advised you against it when you first batted those pretty lashes and complimented him at the bar you frequented so often with your friends. but you stood strong, making your interest loud and clear. and who was he to deny a pretty girl he’d been eyeing all night?

“my baby gets dressed so pretty f’me,” he murmurs lowly, hands landing on your waist from behind as you look at yourself in the mirror, leaning down to kiss the juncture of your neck. “‘m a lucky man.”

you smile in the reflection, leaning back in his embrace. “mmm, maybe you’ll get luckier later,” you respond cheekily.

and boy, does he. he doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve you, let alone how you pleasure him.

“am i being good for you, jackie?” you pant from above him, thighs trembling around his hips as you bounce atop his thick cock. you mewl every time his head pressed against your cervix.

“so, so good, baby,” he grunts between clenched teeth, hands clutching your hips so tight and guiding your movements, you won’t be surprised if there are handprints tomorrow. “my sweet girl rides me so well.”

your walls flutter around his pulsing cock from his words alone, moaning in delight. you can feel the ridges of his veins every time you sink down atop him.

“is it good, baby? my cock making you feel good?” he asks. because sometimes he has to. he needs to know he’s making you feel as good as you make him. you give no indication that it’s anything but, but he still yearns to hear it from your lips.

and because you’re an ever-loving girlfriend, you of course let him know. “mhm! mhm, s’good, jackie!” you mewl, head thrown back as you ride atop him. “y’fill me up so good! feel you in my tummy!” your thighs start to burn but it doesn’t seem to deter you.

he groans at your words, balls tightening as he feels his orgasm fast approaching. sweat rolls down his temples and he tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “‘m about to cum, sweet girl,” he warns you with a grunt. “you close, too?

you nod frantically with a broken moan, your muscles aching and jack can tell, rutting his hips upwards to aid in your faltering pace.

“let go, baby, i’ve got you,” he murmurs lowly, gripping the fat of your ass tightly as he lifts you and bounces you on his cock repeatedly. “need you t’a finish for me. let me feel it.”

you nod again, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. with a final thrust, your pussy clenched around his cock like a vice and your vision goes white. you fall over the edge with a shrill moan of his name.

jack soon follows (how could he not when your pussy is squeezing him so tight like that?), spilling hot ropes of gum into your waiting walls, groaning softly as his balls twitch. he feels your body trembling above him and he’s quick to catch you as you collapse onto him.

“atta girl, sweetie. y’did so good,” he praises in your ear, one calloused had rubbing you back affectionately while the other runs through your hair.