Page 246 of Immune

“Take your time, then.”

I laugh, a quiet and almost helpless sound.

Then I move.

Slow at first, because slow lets me feel every place she takes me in. Slow lets me watch the tension melt from her jaw only to return again when pleasure builds too sharply. Slow lets her decide whether she wants to meet me or hold still or pull me closer until there’s no space left between our bodies.

Dakota chooses closer.

Her legs lock around my hips and her arms wrap around my shoulders, not hiding now. Not shielding herself from me. Her mouth finds mine again, messy and hungry, and when I thrust deeper, she bites back a sound against my lower lip.

“Again,” she breathes.

So I give it to her again.

Harder.

Not cruel and never careless. But enough to rock the table under her. Enough to make the planter trays rattle nearby.Enough that she grips onto me like she needs somewhere to put all the things she refuses to scream.

There’s nothing fragile in her. Nothing breakable. She’s all heat and tight grip and breath, all scars and choices and fury all molded into pleasure.

I kiss her when she gets too quiet, and I slow when her knee tenses. I move deeper when her nails demand it, and I listen to every sound she gives me and every silence she doesn't even know she’s offering.

Her breath breaks against my mouth and for once she doesn’t turn it into a joke. Neither of us does.

After that, words disappear completely. There’s only her body moving with mine, her breath pushing against my mouth, and my name becoming something between a plea and a warning.

I slide my hand between us and touch her where her body is stretched around me, circling with the same rhythm as my hips. Dakota shudders violently, and she gasps, “Fuck.”

Her head falls back and I catch the back of her neck with my free hand, supporting her without holding her down. She looks at me like she knows the difference, too. Like it matters. And that’s because it does.

My knot starts to swell then, and I feel the change, stopping my movements for half a breath while every muscle in my body locks down around the instinct to thrust deeper and keep her there.

Dakota notices. Of course she does. Her eyes open, dark and furious and bright. “Don’t stop because of that.”

“Dakota.”

“I know what it is.”

“I need to hear you say it,” I rasp.

Her nails bite into my shoulder just before she says, “Stay.”

The word slices through me like a blade that’s been warmed over a fire, and I move again, slower now. Deeper. Giving her every chance to push me away.

She doesn’t.

Her legs tighten around my hips and her body draws me in, heat and slick need and Omega instinct blaring loudly under her skin. Then I feel it, the first pull of her lock, and the way her body grips mine like it’s decided letting go is for cowards.

Her breath catches. “Oh.”

I go still. “Pain?”

“No,” she answers, eyes squeezing shut. “Just… a lot.”

“I can stop moving,” I offer through strain.

Her hold on me turns vicious. “Don’t you dare.”