Hired to Carry the Alpha's Heir, I Read the Last Page Too Late novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Knot

Jamie asks, goes down on Roman first, and takes the knot face to face while they are tied for forty minutes.

"Make you," Roman repeated. "All right."

He sat back against the headboard and pulled Jamie's leg off his hip.

His cock stood up thick and wet between his thighs, and he took his hands off Jamie completely.

He laid them flat on the sheet, palms down.

"When you want it, you ask," he said. "Until then I'm not touching you."

"You're what?"

"You heard me."

Jamie stared at him.

He was shaking all over, drenched, hollow, and furious.

The heat was a hand squeezing the inside of his belly.

The man who could fix it was sitting there with his hands on the bed like a statue.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Jamie said.

"Probably."

"Do you know how bad I want to hit you?"

"Do you know how bad I want to let you?"

Jamie's whole body jolted.

He crawled across the mattress, and Roman's eyes tracked every inch of it.

He knelt between those huge thighs with his curls in his eyes, and looked at what he had been given.

It was too thick for his hand to close around.

A bead of clear fluid gathered at the head, and the swollen ridge at the base throbbed under it.

"You said you wouldn't touch me," Jamie said.

"I won't."

"I didn't say anything about me touching you."

He leaned down and licked the bead off the tip.

Roman's head hit the headboard with a crack.

The taste was salt and smoke and something dark and sweet underneath.

The scent coming off the skin was so strong that Jamie's eyes rolled back.

He took the head into his mouth.

It was so big his jaw ached at once.

He sucked, slow and wet, and hollowed his cheeks, and Roman made a sound that was almost a snarl.

"Hendry."

"Mm."

"That's not fair."

"I never said it would be."

He took more, and then more, until the head bumped the back of his throat, and his eyes stung and ran.

His own cock was dripping onto the sheet, and the slick was running down the back of his thighs.

He had never been so happy to be on his knees.

Roman's hands stayed flat on the bed.

The knuckles were white, and the sheet was tearing under his fingers.

"Look at me," Roman said.

Jamie looked up through wet lashes.

Roman's face was ruined, his mouth open, the scarred side flushed purple, the good side dark red.

"God, look at you," he said. "Stay right there. Take all of it you can."

Jamie hummed around him.

Roman's hips jerked off the bed, and he grabbed for the sheets and for the headboard and for anything, and finally for Jamie's hair.

He didn't push.

He held it in his fist, shaking.

"If you keep that up, I'll come in your mouth," he said, "and I want it in you. I want every drop where it counts."

Jamie pulled off with a slick, obscene sound.

His lips were swollen and stinging.

"Then give it to me."

"Ask."

"I'm asking!"

"Ask properly."

Jamie climbed into his lap.

He straddled those huge thighs and took Roman's jaw in one hand, on the right side, the smooth side.

Roman went completely still, and his eyes stayed on Jamie's hand.

"Knot me," Jamie said.

His voice came out small and rough and certain.

"Put it in, and don't take it out. Fill me up. Give me everything, I want it. I want you to put a baby in me. Please. I'm asking."

Roman made a noise.

Then his hands came off the sheet at last and closed on Jamie's hips.

He lifted him, lined him up, and brought him down.

The cock went in.

Jamie cried out and dropped his forehead onto Roman's shoulder.

The knot caught at the rim and stuck.

"Slow," Roman said into his hair. "Relax. Let it in, Hendry."

"It's too big."

"It's exactly the right size."

He rocked him gently, and Jamie felt it stretch him another inch.

The rim gave and swallowed the knot, and the shock went through them both.

It sat high and hot and enormous inside him, swelling, and he could feel every pulse.

He was tied, locked on Roman's cock with no way to get off it, and nothing in his life had ever felt so right.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "Oh my God, I can feel it growing."

"I know."

"Is that supposed to be..."

"It's supposed to be everything."

Roman wrapped both arms around him, one across his back and one around his waist, and held him chest to chest.

His mouth was at Jamie's temple.

His hips gave one small slow thrust, and then the first pulse hit.

Hot, thick, endless, it flooded him from the inside.

Jamie whimpered and clenched, and his own cock jumped against Roman's stomach and spilled between them without being touched.

"That's it," Roman said. "Good. Take it. Take all of it."

"It keeps coming."

"It's supposed to."

"There's so much."

"Every drop of it is yours," Roman said, low and wrecked. "I'm going to keep you full until it takes."

The words went through Jamie.

He shook in the circle of those arms, tied and stuffed and wrung out, and the hollow ache in him finally began to ease.

For the first time since the hallway, the heat let go.

He lay slumped against the chest of the most feared man in Hollywood, and Roman's hand stroked slowly up and down his spine.

Minutes passed.

Roman's chest rose and fell under his cheek.

"How long does it last?" Jamie asked, muffled.

"Half an hour. Maybe forty minutes."

"I can't move."

"You're not meant to."

"I could get used to that," Jamie said, and then felt his face go hot, because he had meant to say something else.

Roman said nothing.

His palm cupped the back of Jamie's head and pressed it down into his shoulder, hard and warm.

He stayed that way, holding him, and the sea breathed below the glass.

Twice Jamie felt the knot pulse again, and twice he felt Roman's whole body shudder around him.

At last the swelling began to ease.

Roman lifted him off with great care, wincing, and laid him on his back among the wrecked sheets.

The ache was gone for the moment.

Everything felt scraped and tender and loose.

Roman got up, naked, crossed the room to a table by the glass and came back with a tray.

There was a glass of water on it, and four slices of toast on a plate.

The toast was black at the edges.

He sat on the bed and held the glass to Jamie's mouth.

Jamie drank, and the water was cold and the best thing he had ever tasted.

Roman held out a corner of toast.

Jamie ate it out of his fingers.

It was burnt, and dry, and it tasted like charcoal and butter, and he ate every slice without a word.

Neither of them spoke.

When the plate was empty, Roman wiped a crumb off his lip with one thumb.

"I'm writing that down," Jamie said hoarsely.

"Write it down."

"Four slices. Water."

"Put a price on it."

"I will," Jamie said. "It's going to be high."

Roman's mouth did something he clearly didn't mean it to do.

Then his head came up, and his nostrils flared, and his whole body went still.

Jamie felt it too.

The tight heat low in his belly was coming back, slow and rising.

"Already?" he said.

"Your body doesn't use the app."

Jamie laughed, and the laugh broke in the middle, because his thighs were already falling open.

He got a hand around Roman's wrist and pulled.

"Come here. On top of me. I want to see your face."

"My face."

"Yes. All of it. Come here."

Roman came down over him slowly, bracing his weight on his forearms, with the left side of his face turned toward the pillow.

Jamie lifted his head and kissed the right corner of his mouth, and then the right cheek, light and quick.

Roman shut his eyes.

His throat worked, and for a moment he seemed unable to do anything at all.

"Look at me," Jamie said.

"I am."

"No, you're looking at the wall. Look at me."

Roman turned his face, and the lamplight fell on the whole of it.

Jamie looked, steadily, and his hand stayed on the right side.

"Good," he said, and wrapped both legs around Roman's waist. "I want a lot."

Roman slid into him in one long push.

Jamie was so open and so wet that it was easy, and they both groaned in relief.

It was slower this time.

Roman moved in deep, rolling strokes, his weight pinning Jamie to the mattress, his mouth never more than an inch from Jamie's.

Their breath mingled, and their eyes stayed locked.

Every thrust dragged across the place inside him that made his toes curl.

Jamie dug his heels into the small of Roman's back and met each stroke.

"There," he said. "Right there. Keep going."

"I will."

"Deeper."

"If I go deeper, I'll knot you."

"Then go deeper."

Roman groaned, and his control broke by one inch.

He drove in to the base and ground there, and the swelling caught, thick and hot and relentless.

The rim of Jamie's hole stretched around it with a burn that tipped over at once into bliss.

He screamed, a high wet helpless cry, and came untouched between their stomachs.

"Yes," Roman said, shuddering. "Come on, Hendry. That's it. Squeeze me. Milk it out."

The first pulse flooded him, then the second, and the third.

Roman's hips locked against his, his face buried in Jamie's neck, a long ragged groan tearing out of him.

Jamie held on to his shoulders and felt the whole weight of him shake.

He had never seen a man so big look so completely undone.

"Mine," Roman said into his skin, so quietly Jamie almost missed it. "For the heat. Only for the heat."

"Only for the heat," Jamie agreed, and kissed his temple, and didn't mean a word of it.

They lay tied again, forehead to forehead, while the sky outside went from black to grey.

"Sleep," Roman said at last. "It's nearly morning."

"Is it over?"

"No."

Jamie felt the knot throb inside him, and the want already uncoiling under his ribs again.

"Hold on," Roman said, and his arms tightened. "It's only the first night."

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