Her Knotty List (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 4)
Her Knotty List: Chapter 38

Look, I’m not going to defend myself here.

Clearly, I’m too stupid to live in the most literal of fashions.

Charging head-long into the actual wilderness, dodging tree stumps, and tripping over snow-covered roots while I scramble away in some sort of insane attempt at baiting Knox’s Alpha?

It is dumb.

I know that.

But is it really my fault that so many reckless, unintelligent things appeal to my Omega?

Well, in this case, it’s more than just an appeal, I guess. More like an imperative.

She straight-up needs this alpha to rut us.

Mostly, I suspect, because he needs it.

The pack he almost formed all those years ago had no right to make him feel like the villain in their story. If they couldn’t step up to a man as dominant as him, or if they didn’t want to, then fine. But making him feel like some sort of heinous monster who would hold people against their will?

That isn’t Knox.

Everything I’ve seen in the last week has shown me who he really is. And he isn’t a beast.

His Alpha, on the other hand…

The deep roar that echoes behind me sends a flock of birds flying for their lives. Can’t blame them there—I want to be chased and the sound still makes my blood race.

I zip into the trees, my feet moving faster than I thought they could. I’m still me, though. So, a lot of tripping contributes to the momentum I gain while throwing myself down the sloping, slippery landscape.

Footsteps pound behind me, gaining. My pussy clenches in answer, slick sliding into my panties, perfume curling behind me.

Another growl shatters the peaceful forest, impaling my throat with a bolt of wanton want. The thick throb of my pulse echoes between my thighs, my need thickening when Knox finally gets close enough for me to smell his concentrated cedar musk.

It fits, out here. Almost like the whole dang mountain exists just to suit him. And me. And this.

Which, turns out, does not make him any less intimidating.

He snarls, only a few meters behind me now. My nipples pebble at the sound, and it’s like he knows—because the second they prick up, he tackles me into the snow.

Tackles.

Me.

A bright burst of happiness lights my chest. Enjoying our game, I start to laugh, squirming away from him. A sharp whine follows my giggles when he clamps his huge, warm hand around my shoulder and flips me.

The world rolls in a swirl of magical white and panty-melting pine. When I blink, I replace myself on top of Knox’s broad body, pressing my palms into his pulsing chest.

His eyes are wild, the blue a thin band around his blown pupils. He glares up at me with a snarl. The grip on my thighs tweak a smidge too tight, and I wince, automatically reaching for his face.

When I smooth my fingertips along the corner of his mouth, touching his dark beard, he goes from angry lust to pained longing.

My poor alpha.

“It hurts,” I say again, trailing my other hand down to his pants, hunting for his waistband. “Let me make you feel better, Alpha.”

His chest heaves. Confused indecision splits his expression—those burning eyes that want to devour me and the grimace on his lips that tells me Knox is still in there, somewhere, fighting his instincts with every ragged breath.

“I want you to rut me,” I confess, the muscles of my inner thighs flexing under his fingertips. “I’m soaked in slick for you. Do you want to see?”

That does it. Whatever thin tether he had to sanity snaps.

And the Alpha emerges.

Knox’s black eyes spark. He bellows, lunging upright. I squeak as one calloused hand tugs my hair, baring my throat to his mouth while his free fingers rip at my clothes.

The scrape of his teeth over my pulse sends a skitter down my spine. I gasp, falling into his rough touches, relishing the drugging submission that thickens my blood.

It feels so good to let him do whatever he wants with me. Almost as good as feeling his desperation—the burning need that has him biting bruises into the thin skin of my neck and ripping buttons off his own shirt.

My hands slip into the open fabric, skimming his sides, feeling the purr that rattles under his endless growls. That sensation sinks into me, too. I moan softly and press my aching core against his hardness.

With an animalistic snarl, Knox yanks my leggings down as far as he can with my thighs spread. His muscles bulge as he lifts me high enough to wrestle the pants to my ankles, then lays my lower back on his hard thighs and raises my hips in the air.

What the⁠—

His hungry expression makes complete sense a second later as he bends my knees around his head and dives for my pussy.

Oh holy night.

This big, vicious alpha is locked in his first rut in years… and he wants to eat my pussy?!

Plot twist.

I barely have time to be surprised before he’s there, opening his hot mouth over my spread lips, groaning. I whine as he replaces my slippery core, delving his thick tongue into my squelching heat.

When I tremble around him, one of his enormous hands spreads over the top of my mound, covering my lower belly. He hums—a still-growly but definitely-sweet sound.

Comfort.

His Alpha is trying to comfort me.

Wetness glazes my eyes while more slick seeps from my slit. He moans again, the palms spread over my stomach and under my ass pressing tighter and maneuvering me even closer.

I drop my head back against his shins, crying out when he noses at my clit. It isn’t intentional, which just makes it hotter, somehow? Because literally all this man currently cares about is lapping up the taste of me.

The thought has me perfuming more, gushing against his open lips. Slick dribbles down his beard, and he bucks under me, rubbing his cock against his seam.

Oh. Right.

The whole point of this is definitely him.

I whine, putting a little extra oomph into it, knowing it will snap his attention up from my pussy. When his hazy eyes meet mine, I lick my lips. “Can I present for you, Alpha?” I ask breathily. “Please?”

He wants it. I see the way his bleary gaze suddenly snaps with fire. But when he starts to roar out a reply, he suddenly chokes himself into silence.

I swear, something pained passes over his eyes. Because he doesn’t want me to present? Or because he wants it so badly that he feels wrong opening his mouth and essentially making me?

If I know Knox, it’s the second one. Which is silly, because I’m obviously offering.

He’s spent a long time telling himself he couldn’t have any of the things he used to want, all for the sake of never accidentally hurting or scaring anyone.

How does he not see how good that makes him?

He’s perfect! my Omega squees, hearts throbbing in her eyes. Take his knot and tell him to bite you!

The thought alone has me slicking right in front of his face. When his gaze snaps to the evidence of how much I want him, a low, dangerous rumble shakes his chest.

“Omega. Present.”

Hooooooooly fu⁠—

Okay.

OKAY.

He wasn’t exaggerating. Not even a little bit. Because the second the bark hits me, I blink and replace that I’m already on my knees.

Which would be great, except I had the stupid idea to go running into the woods like a lunatic, and it is cold out here, guys.

Fiddlesticks.

My palms burn as they sink against the snow. Not ideal, but nowhere near as bad as my knees. Probably because my lower half is so much larger than the top⁠—

Oof!

A hand lands a hard slap to my rear. Then another.

He wants my attention.

My heart melts, and I look over my shoulder to reassure him. Knox is as handsome as he is intimidating—a big, barrel chest covered in coarse, dark hair. Every muscle and line on his face pulled taut. His pants torn down, and that world-ending knot ticking fuller by the second.

He’s magnificent. The sort of alpha any omega would die to be on their knees for.

I reach back to stroke his wrist. “It isn’t you, Alpha,” I explain. “I’m just chilly. But I want you to rut me now. Please?”

His jaw ticks. Without a word, he bends and tugs my leggings back to my knees, bunching them under my bare skin. He nods at the towering sycamore tree in front of us, barking roughly. “Hands up, omega.”

I don’t get to realize what a brilliant idea it is until I’m in position. My brain just glitches. One second, I’m on all-fours, and the next time I open my eyes, I’m stretched between the wide warmth of the hands on my hips and the not-quite-as-cold wooden trunk.

A growly purr fills the still air between us. I feel his eyes on my backside… and everything below it.

“Wider.”

I love his commands. His power. I don’t have to think at all. He tells me what to do, and my instincts do the rest.

When I obey, pumping out more cinnamon-sugar perfume, his purr drops lower and grows louder. One of his hands floats up to trace my spine.

“My omega,” he grunts. “So good. You’re going to take my knot.”

I am, I am, I AM.

Everything inside of me screams, and I keen, shoving my hips back, trying to follow his order.

“Yes,” he mutters, almost to himself. And then he slides in.

All. The. Way. In.

I take his thick cock and huge knot with a breathless sob, my inner walls slipping and squeezing in frantic clenches. He gives another of those soul-deep war cries, sinking against my ass until there’s no space left between us. Nothing else for him to give me.

Then he moves.

Every sizzling nerve inside of me sparks against the thick friction. His knot catches right where I want it, pulsing and tugging at the pleasure points ringed around it. More slick gushes around us, the sound wet and filthy as he pounds his hips, relentless.

The forest around me melts and swirls while I mewl. This is a rut. No hesitation or thought. Just him, mindless with need, shoving in and out of me as much as he can with this glorious knot trying to seal us together.

And—oh my God—I’m not gonna make it.

Guys. I’m not gonna make it.

I’m going to die when this orgasm hits me because nothing can possibly feel this good without killing you, right?

He growls and bellows every time I tweak tighter around his girth. The hand on my spine snaps up to fist my hair, turning my head. When I feel his wild eyes graze my face, my core starts to convulse.

“Omega,” he hisses, his thrusts growing sloppy and desperate. “Come. Come on this knot. Never stop.”

And I do.

I am.

I come and come and I can’t stop. The pleasure doesn’t end; it’s a mindless spiral that sucks me into its vortex and then keeps right on spinning.

I’m vaguely aware of the hoarse bellow behind me. The fingertips bruising my sides while the alpha jets hot streams of cum into me. So much—it glazes my insides until wetness leaks around his knot and starts to slip down my thighs, along with my slick and the release I’m squirting all over both of us.

Still.

Because I really can’t stop.

A hard twinge of pained pleasure tweaks around him, squeezing in frantic pulses until he barks again, much softer, “Enough, honey. You’ll hurt yourself. Enough.”

My palms slip against the sycamore tree; my eyes blur as they fall shut. And my last thought is that the rutting alpha I want more than anything sounds just like the man I’m falling in love with.