Page 29 of Knotted by the Mountain Man Dragon

His eyes flare gold so bright they light up the dim room.

“I want to feel you come inside me,” I tell him. “I want to be full of you. I want your knot. I want to smell like you everywhere, inside and out. So finish what you started.”

He doesn’t speak.

His hands grip my waist and he lifts me off his lap and spins me around so fast I gasp. My hands hit the arm of the couch and my knees hit the cushions and I’m on all fours with his chest pressed against my back before I can take a breath.

“You want my knot?” His mouth is against my ear. His hand slides down my spine, over the curve of my ass, and grips my hip. “Then hold on.”

He drives into me in one stroke.

I scream.

The angle is different like this. Deeper. He hits places inside me that make my arms buckle and my face press into the cushion. He’s impossibly deep, impossibly thick, and I can feel every inch of him stretching me open and it hurts and it’s perfect and I push back against him and take more.

“This what you wanted?” His teeth are gritted. I look back to see scales shimmer across his shoulders. Smoke curls from his nostrils. “To be so full of me you can’t think?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“My greedy little omega.” He pulls back and slams forward and I cry out. “Can’t even let me catch my breath before she needs my cock again.”

“Don’t pretend you’re… oh God…”

His hand cracks against my ass.

Not hard enough to truly hurt. Hard enough to sting. Hard enough to send a shock of heat straight between my legs that makes me clench around him so hard he groans.

“What did I say?” His hand smooths over the spot he just spanked, soothing, then grips. “About that name?”

“Cage,” I gasp. “Cage, I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be sorry.” He thrusts deep and holds there. “Just remember who’s inside you.”

He sets a pace that’s relentless. Hard, deep strokes that rock me forward on my hands, his fingers gripping my hips. I hear the wet slap of skin. My moans muffled against the couch. His growls vibrating through my back.

His hand slides up my spine, into my hair, and grabs a fistful. He pulls my head back gently and the arch of my spine changes the angle and he sinks even deeper and I make a sound I’ve never made before.

“Oh… oh f… oh Go—” I catch myself. Barely. “Cage.”

“Good girl.” His other hand slides under me, finds my clit, and presses.

He’s fucking me so deep I can feel it in my chest and his fingers are on my clit and his hand is in my hair and I am going to come so hard I might actually black out.

The knot starts to swell. I feel it at his base, thickening with each stroke, pressing against my entrance, stretching me wider. I know what’s coming. I want it. I want it so badly my whole body is shaking.

“Give it to me,” I gasp. “Cage. Please.”

He drives in hard and the knot locks and the fullness is blinding and I come so hard I can’t breathe. He follows, and I feel it inside me. Hot. Pulsing. Filling me in waves while his knot holds me open and his body curls over mine and his face buries in the back of my neck and he groans my name against my skin.

His hand releases my hair. Strokes it instead. Gentle. Tender. The whiplash from how hard he just took me to how softly he’s touching me now makes my eyes sting.

We stay like that. Tied together on his couch in the middle of the afternoon. His chest is heaving against my back. My arms are shaking. I’m covered in him, inside and out, and I have never in my life felt more thoroughly, completely, absurdly claimed.

He presses his lips to my shoulder. To the nape of my neck. To the spot behind my ear.

“Better,” he murmurs against my skin.

I laugh weakly into the couch cushion. “You’re insane.”