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When I come back to myself, he’s smiling against my lips as he kisses me, gives my pussy one final soothing caress, and says, “Beautiful.”
I barely hear him over my heart thudding loudly in my head. He promised he would make me burn. He did. And I’mstillburning. I fumble between us, reaching for his cock, needing to touch him.
He swallows his groan as he leans farther over me, all but pinning me to the table.
I sigh when he strokes a hand over my waist and cups my breast, gently squeezing. For the briefest of seconds, it almost feels like this will be enough.
It isn’t.
My hands wrestle with the front of Cian’s pants to get them off. He’s half groaning, half laughing. “Everleigh…”
“Please. I need more. Give me your knot. I need you to knot me.” I don’t care that I’m begging. The table rocks under me, threatening to topple us to the floor since we’re both half lying on it. “Knot me. Please.”
I writhe under him, so needy, my skin is burning. Desperate.
“Please.”
He pulls his hand from between my legs, maybe to give me his knot, maybe to do something else. In one perfect moment of clarity, it hits me.
What I’m doing, and who I’m doing it with.
Begging.
I swore to myself I would escape Lawrence and disappear to create a quiet life free from alphas. Yet I’m begging for an alpha’s knot in the middle of a ballroom, my skirt rucked up at my waist, panties drenched, with the door wide open in the middle of the day.
An alpha trapped me, locked me up in his mansion, hit me, starved me, stole my sister from me, and deprived me of the only passion I ever had. He raped me. Worse, he made me beg for more of it. He made me hate myself, hate being an omega, hate alphas.
And I’m begging an alpha for his knot.
Begging.
All my familiar self-hatred crashes over me, stealing my arousal and my need.
But not all of it.
Because at the heart of it, I’m still an omega and Istillwant his knot, crave it.
And I hate myself for it.
As if Cian senses the mood has changed, his smile falls away. “Everleigh? What—”
I nudge him away and slide off the table. My knees immediately fail me. I stagger forward, arms outstretched to catch myself.
The only reason I don’t fall is because Cian grips my hips and prevents my shaking knees from hitting the ground.
“Everleigh?” Concern deepens his voice.
I rip myself out of his loose grip and, stumbling away, I sprint out of the room and toward the front door. Rune steps out of what must be his office. There’s a big, round table behind him.
His position puts him between me and the front door.
I skid to a stop.
There’s no escape that way. Whirling away from him, I dash up the stairs. Heart smashing against my chest, I can’t breathe right. Or see properly. Blinded by tears, I choke back sobs at what I so nearly did.
“Everleigh?” Rune sounds like he’s frowning as he calls after me.
I stumble on the stairs, crying out when I land heavily on my knees.
