Inside she felt like velvet, lacking the abundant slick he demanded. That was set right with a guttural growl and more force.
Halfway.
Halfway buried in tight Omega cunt, fully out of his mind, and dangerous. His hand found her hair, yanked her throat back and bowed her body. He could see her face, the dilation of her eyes, and the fear.
“Submit.”
She could not nod. She could hardly maintain her position under his attack, her wide honey eyes locked on his.
Frustrated that her channel revolted and grew unyielding at his order, he pulled out enough to leverage his weight, and slammed back in. “You brought this on yourself.”
Her lashes lowered when he hilted, a shaking breath passing her lips.
The animal pounded away, the beast inside him folding her down so the Omega’s cheek was flush to the bed. It was graceless, disgusting, loud, and violent.
Glorious.
This moment was the epitome of the word fuck.
The Omega’s noises, her muffled grunts under the force of his hips fed his need. They were not the sounds of pleasure, but the whimperings of surrender.
He had waited so long to feel her encase his cock, long enough that he was going to exact every last ounce of pleasure from the mating that he could. But her insides began to flutter, and his hands began to shake. Rhythmic squeezing of the female’s impending orgasm moved up his shaft, coaxing the beginnings of a knot.
The basest part of him, the animal, wanted to rage at the little body that was his to use as long as he wished. His greater urge was to shout out at the blissful pain of so much repressed ejaculate gathering up for the first eruption.
Unable to pump his hips, mindlessly trying to force the expanding knot deeper, Jacques roared.
Her timid orgasm was twisted up into his until it surpassed her ability to bite back her shrieks.
The Alpha wrung it out of her, just as her pussy milked his cock for everything the Omega feared.
His mind did not clear from her panting into the sheets, or at seeing the blood from the scratches he’d left on her back. The beast under his skin wasn’t done, fiddling with her this way and that while the knot persisted and his orgasm continued.
The usherings, ten maybe twenty times over the course of his knot, drew up his balls, scratching at his spine to spurt down the satiated length of his cock as each one possessed him. He squeezed her with each one, growled should she think to move or resist.
Sometime later he woke from the madness, found her lying limp, staring vacantly forward under his weight.
He brushed back her hair, satisfied and eager to cuddle his prize. “It won’t always be this way. I will learn to be gentle with you despite my need, mon chou.”
Blinking once, Brenya murmured, “You must tell Ancil I obeyed his order. Please don’t let him harm Annette further.”Chapter 10“What?”
There were still tremors in her belly, Brenya unsure if they came from her or that thing with its repetitive bursts of fluid still jammed inside her.
It was done. The little death had taken her. An Alpha knot had been made to fit inside her.
And yet she was alive, her racing heart proof her body persisted.
“I asked you a question, Brenya. Why would you say that?” He seemed startled… perhaps even gravely disappointed?
Turning her chin as far as her neck might allow, she viewed him over her shoulder, saw the damage done to his face, and asked, “Did Ancil strike you as well?”
Tone hard and deadly deep, Jacques demanded, “Did Ancil lay his hands on you?”
She put her cheek back to the mattress and sighed. “He was so angry when he took Annette away. He hit her, threatened her. I tried to stop him. After they were gone I worked up the courage to follow, but there are many Alphas blocking the door.”
The sounds of his irritation grew. “You are not restricted to these rooms, Brenya. You may explore Central at any time you wish, so long as your guard accompanies you. They are there to keep you safe.”
“I waited for hours…” A wave of sadness deadened her voice. “There was nothing else I could do to help her. So, please, contact him and tell him I obeyed. Don’t have her terminated because of the letter. I need to know she’s safe.”
He ignored her less than subtle accusation that he might have his childhood friend killed, assuring, “Annette is in no danger, I promise you that. Her father is the Finance Secretary and her mother Matron of the Arts. They would take Ancil to court over the smallest of infractions. Furthermore, Ancil has been in physical training with me for the last several hours.” Jacques spoke softly, brushing his fingertips back and forth over her cheek. “You see, Annette went into labor. She’ll be separated from him until her son is born and kept in confinement for weeks afterward.”