Page 111 of Knot Her Beta

There’s no finesse, only the raw need to have him on my tongue and feel him thicken to full hardness with every slow, deliberate stroke.

His breath leaves him in a hard rush, and his hips thrust up into my mouth as he grips my hair. His thighs flex under my palms, the muscles jumping each time I take him deeper, and heat pools between my legs. When I drag my gaze upward, I find him staring down at me heavy-lidded, his mouth fallen open, the composed and private man dissolved into want.

His breath hitches, his muscles tensing, and I pull back before he gets there. His cock slips free with a wet pop, and a protest leaves his lips.

“Not yet,” I murmur as I rise to my feet.

“Hurry up,” he demands, reaching for my belt. “Undress.”

I help him, my boots, jeans, flannel, bra, and underwear hitting the tile floor. Naked, I step into the shower first, the hot spray hitting my shoulders, and reach back to pull him in after me.

He follows, using my hands for support, before transferring to the grip handle mounted at hip height on the tile. A fold-down teak bench, built flush into the wall, offers additional support if needed.

Every accommodation I built into this bathroom I designed to support Grady, and he takes advantage of them without any sign of shame.

I fill my hand with shampoo. His golden hair is matted from days of neglect, and I work the soap through it with both hands, my fingers finding his scalp beneath. He tilts his head back into the pressure, eyes closed, and moans with pleasure.

When I finish washing him, he sits on the bench and takes the soap from me. I kneel without being asked, and his soap-slick palms glide over my shoulders, across the muscle of my back, and down the dip of my spine with a thoroughness that heats my skin beneath the spray.

Then his hands skate around my ribs to cup my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples, and my head tips forward to rest on his shoulder. He rolls them between his fingers, and when I rumble with pleasure, he urges me to stand and draws one of my knees onto the bench beside him.

“I hope this thing can handle both of us,” he murmurs, drawing me forward.

“It can,” I gasp as his mouth finds my right nipple.

Warm, wet suction draws me into his mouth, and I moan deep in my throat. He switches to the left, his tongue circling the hard peak before he sucks hard enough that my hand shoots out to grip the handle next to his head.

His hands trail down my stomach and pause at my hips. His wet lashes flutter. “What do I do?”

Without a word, I take his hand and guide it between my thighs.

He takes the direction without hesitation, and two fingers thrust into me while his thumb finds my clit. The first stroke is careful, testing, but grows firmer when he discovers how wet I already am. His mouth finds mine in a deep kiss that moves down to my jaw, my throat, sipping the water from my skin as his fingers spread inside me, finding the angle where my breath quickens.

When I reach for his cock, he catches my wrist and holds it away. “Not yet.”

My stomach tightens at the firm note in the command as he keeps his focus on me, reading every shift in my breathing and adjusting his pressure and rhythm to drive my pleasure higher. His thumb circles my clit while his fingers work, and my hips jerk.

“I’m close,” I warn.

His thumb circles my clit again as he continues to hit that spot, over and over. With a gasp, I come, and my entrance swells to lock around his fingers as my inner walls pulse.

Grady groans at the sensation. “That’s — God, Emily, that’s intense.” His fingers work through the grip and release of my muscles. “I can feel every pulse. Every single one.”

When I try to take him in hand a second time, he again holds me off, and the sensation of him remaining perfectly still while my body milks his slender digits draws a shudder from me.

With his fingers still buried deep, he asks, “How long does it last without a cock inside you?”

I swallow at hearing such a vulgar question from my gentle Beta. “The lock needs something to hold. It eases faster without the full engagement.”

“I want to feel it again.” His gaze never wavers as he waits for the lock to release. “Now that I understand what to expect, I want all of it.”

The memory of the pain I caused him rises, and I tense, afraid I’ll hurt him again.

Grady reads my hesitation. “Please, Alpha? I want it.”

The words cut straight through me. From his mouth, in that tone, with the water running between us and his fingers still inside me, I can’t refuse.

And the small, knowing smile that crosses his lips tells me he understands exactly what those words do to me.