Page 42 of Knot His Beast
So help me, I do.
I cry out as soon as those words leave his sinful lips, my back bowing as I nearly tear the hair from his head while the first rope of cum hits the crotch of my pants. Bentley thrusts harder and faster as I continue to come, growling into the side of my neck, my name vibrating against my skin in a strangled cry as my alpha comes with me.
After what can only be described as the world’s longest orgasm, Bentley collapses into the back of my couch, rolling me with him until my spent and limp body is lazily draped over him.
“Imagine how fucking good that’ll be when my cock is buried in your ass while my teeth are just as deep in your skin.”
My dick twitches in my sweats as I pant, “I tried.”
Bentley chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “Not yet, baby. Soon. Real soon, but I have to know you feel the same way when I’m not dry humping you into the couch.”
I smile against his chest but don’t respond.
I don’t need to.
Bentley Walker is my scent match, and he knew how I felt before I did.
Carefully sliding out from under Bentley’s massive bicep, I roll off the couch then gingerly get to my feet.
He really is mine, isn’t he?
I look down at him with a small smile, butterflies fluttering in my gut as I take him in.
Bentley is way too good looking for me.
He’s kind of perfect, actually.
Romanesque features, just the right amount of scruff on his face. Full lips, pretty pale blue eyes, flawless skin. The man has more muscles than I’ve ever seen in real life and his body is sculpture worthy. He also has a dick that is probably going to split me in two, I felt that for sure, and thinking about it now makes my mouth water.
But he’s too good for me.
Bentley has no idea how fucked up I really am, what kind of baggage I bring to the table. He’s lucky I didn’t have a nightmareafter we fell asleep, otherwise I probably would have kneed him so hard in his huge dick it wouldn’t work anymore.
Even though our combined cum on my pants didn’t bother me enough to rush and change into clean ones, he has no idea what messes like that do to me. He hasn’t seen what happens when things are out of place or my skin feels too tight.
When I have a full blown meltdown because my intrusive thoughts start winning, will he still want to be with me? Probably not, and I can’t blame him for that. I don’t even want to be with me when that happens.
Scent match or not, why would Bentley want to stay once he sees what kind of head case he’s been slapped with for the rest of his life?
My fingers start to twitch as those thoughts begin playing on a loop.
Worthless.
Nothing.
Undeserving.
Fucked up.
Over and over I hear the words and before I realize it, I’m inside the bathroom and locking the door behind me.
I drop my sweatpants and step out of them as I reach for the door on the medicine cabinet, then tug my shirt over my head before I grab a razor blade and walk to the tub.
My right thigh is still healing and the left is pretty bad, but so are my thoughts.
It looks like I’ll be using my chest for a while. Just until I can make these thoughts go away.
I just want them to go away.
