Need you so bad.

Rose’s POV

The corridor swallowed me again, cold stone walls pressing in like judgmental fingers tracing every filthy secret I carried on my skin. Moonlight sliced through the narrow arrow-slit windows in pale, accusing bars that painted silver stripes across the flagstones—each one spotlighting the dark, glistening wet patch soaking through the crotch of my jeans like a brand of shame and triumph I couldn’t scrub away even if I tried.

My boots struck too loud against the stone, every echoing step a filthy confession that bounced back at me in the empty hall: *I came without him ever touching my pussy. I begged like a desperate, dripping whore. I tasted his thick, salty alpha come straight from his thumb while blindfolded and chained like his personal fucktoy.* The trembling wouldn’t stop.

My thighs rubbed together with every frantic stride, slick and sticky, the denim clinging obscenely to my swollen, puffy folds like a second skin. My clit still throbbed in angry, needy aftershocks—puffy, oversensitive, pulsing in time with my racing heartbeat from the ruined orgasm that had torn through me the second I heard him roar my name and smelled the hot, thick ropes of his spend splattering the rug only feet away.

I pressed a shaking hand between my legs right there in the empty hallway, cupping my soaked mound through the soaked fabric, feeling the obscene heat radiating off me like a furnace. A fresh gush of slick pulsed out at the memory—his voice wrecked and filthy, low and broken: *Rose—fuck—Rose—your tight little cunt would feel so fucking good milking me, clenching around my knot while I breed you full.* I whimpered aloud, the sound bouncing off the cold stone and making my cheeks burn hotter than the hearth fire I’d left behind.

My wolf surged inside me, feral and demanding, tail lashing wildly against my ribs. *Go back,* it snarled in my head, voice husky and raw with pure lust. *Crawl to him right now. Drop to all fours in the middle of this hall. Present that dripping hole and beg him to mount you against the wall where everyone can smell how much of a desperate slut you are for his cock.*

“Shut up,” I hissed under my breath, nails digging into my palm through the denim as I forced myself to keep walking. But my body betrayed me—another hot trickle of slick slid down my inner thigh, soaking into my sock and making my knees buckle for a second. Gods, I was leaking like a faucet. The scent of my heat was thick, sweet, fertile, mixing with the lingering taste of his come on my tongue. I could still feel the warm smear of it on my lip, the way I’d sucked his thumb clean like a starving slut, moaning around it while blindfolded and chained, my pussy clenching on nothing as I came just from the sound of him stroking himself for me.

“Jason… fuck,” I moaned softly to myself, voice cracking. “You made me come without even touching my cunt. How am I supposed to survive until tomorrow?”

The omega wing door creaked open under my palm, the familiar lavender and damp-stone scent trying desperately to wrap around me like a comforting blanket. It was useless. All I smelled was *us*. His pine-smoke-steel musk saturated every inch of my skin, my braid, the inside of my mouth where I’d licked his come from his thumb like it was the only thing keeping me alive.

Beneath it, the sweet, obscene reek of my own dripping heat—thick, fertile, needy—mixed with the salty-bitter ghost of his release still lingering on my tongue. I reeked of submission. Of a desperate, dripping omega cunt that had come untouched just from listening to her alpha jerk off for her. Of being completely, irrevocably owned.

My room was dark, cold, the window fogged thick with frost patterns that looked like claw marks raking across the glass. I locked the door with trembling fingers and slid down it, knees drawn tight to my chest, forehead pressed hard against them as if sheer pressure could crush the aching want out of my body. It didn’t work. The ghost of the silver chains still bit into my wrists and ankles with phantom pressure; the black silk blindfold’s darkness still pressed behind my eyes, sharpening every filthy memory until I could replay them in perfect, agonizing detail.

I could still hear every slick, wet stroke of his fist around that thick cock—the low, broken groans of my name, the wet slap of skin on skin, the ragged “Rose—fuck—Rose—” right before he came so hard the scent of his spend flooded the air like a claim. I could still feel the warm smear of it on my lip, the way I’d sucked his thumb clean like I’d suck his cock if he’d only let me, tongue swirling greedily, moaning *more, alpha, please, let me taste all of it*.

Tears came hot and silent, sliding down my cheeks and dripping onto my jacket. I let them fall, let them soak the fabric, because crying felt honest. More honest than pretending I wasn’t already ruined for anyone else. My wolf whined—soft, needy, pleading, the sound vibrating through my ribs like a physical caress. *Go back,* it begged inside me, voice low and husky with raw lust. *Crawl. Present. Beg him to mount you right now. Let him knot you until you can’t walk. Let him breed you full until your belly swells with his pups.*

“Stop it,” I whispered to the darkness, nails digging into my scalp through the braid as I rocked slightly against my own thighs, seeking any friction I could deny myself. “He’s reshaping you. This is what he does. This is control. This is… everything I never knew I needed. Gods, I can still taste him. Still hear him moaning my name while he came for me. I came just from that—blindfolded, chained, dripping like a whore in heat. What kind of omega am I now?”

But it didn’t feel like control anymore. It felt like freedom. Like awakening. Like the only place I belonged was on my knees for him, blindfolded, chained, listening to him stroke that perfect cock while he told me how wet I made him, how he was going to knot me tomorrow until I couldn’t walk, how he was going to fill my womb until I was swollen and bred and his forever.

I stripped with violent, shaking hands, desperate to get the soaked clothes off my overheated skin. Jacket flung into the corner like evidence I couldn’t bear to look at. Shirt buttons popped off as I tore it open, fabric ripping slightly in my haste.

Jeans and panties peeled down together—drenched, ruined, the crotch stiff and shiny with layers of my slick, the scent hitting me like a drug straight to my core as I brought the soaked fabric to my nose and inhaled deeply. Naked, I stood in front of the small cracked mirror above the washbasin, legs shaky. The girl staring back was a stranger—flushed cheeks burning crimson, pupils blown wide and dark, lips swollen and red from biting them raw. My nipples were dark and puffy, marked with faint red crescents from his pinching fingers, still tight and aching as if begging for his mouth again.

My pussy lips were swollen and glistening obscenely, clit peeking out angry-red and throbbing visibly with every heartbeat. I spread myself with two trembling fingers, watching a thick, pearly string of slick stretch slowly from my hole to the floorboards, dripping in a long, obscene strand before breaking.

The sight made me moan—low, broken, filthy. “Look what you did to me, Jason,” I whispered to the empty room, voice cracking with need as I circled my clit once—just once—with a slick finger, hips jerking at the spark. “I’m dripping like a whore in heat and you haven’t even fucked me yet.

My cunt is clenching on nothing, aching for your knot… please… I need you so bad it hurts. I need your thick cock stretching me open, your knot locking inside me, your come flooding my womb until it leaks out for days. I need you to breed me like the desperate little omega slut I am.”

I touched myself lightly again—two fingers sliding through my folds, gathering slick—and my knees buckled. Pleasure shot through me, sharp and electric. I yanked my hand away with a sob, licking my fingers clean instead, tasting myself mixed with the ghost of him. “No. Not without him. Not again. I’m his now. Only his.”