Page 64 of Knot So Fast
The smell of smoke is everywhere, but all I can taste is her.
All I can think about is how I’ll never let anyone or anything take her from me again.
Not even the fire.
I’m still trembling, every muscle in my body locked in the aftershocks, when my cock starts swelling for the knot.
Even now, with logic and panic fighting for attention, my body is nothing but ancient instincts:knot her, keep her, make sure nothing else in the universe can pull you apart.
It’s both a blessing and a curse that my brain still works just enough to remember this is not the time, that if I stay buried in her another second I’ll never fucking pull out, and then the next thing we know there’s a scandal and a ruined reputation and a headline the tabloids will never let die.
So I do the unthinkable.
I rip out just as my knot’s about to lock. The pain is blinding. My vision whites out, my legs nearly buckle, and I let out a sound so raw and desperate I don’t even know if it’s human.
Auren,goddess that she is,doesn’t miss a beat.
Even with her legs still shaking and her face pressed to the stone, she’s reaching behind her, finding the base of my cock by touch and cradling my knot in both hands like it’s something sacred. She squeezes, twists, massages, working her fingers in apracticed, perfect rhythm that only comes from years of knowing exactly how to handle me when I’m like this.
My body floods with gratitude and grief at the same time—because I never want her to stop, and because I know that nothing else, nothing else in the world, will ever do.
She jerks her head up, hair wild and eyes electric, and grins at me over her shoulder.
“Didn’t think you had the discipline to pull out, Alpha. Proud of you.”
I can barely stand, but the joke nearly kills me.
I lean on the counter, both hands flat, shuddering through the rest of my release while she milks me for all I’m worth. There’s a mess everywhere, her cum and mine, sweat and spit and every filthy word we ever said to each other hanging in the air like a fine mist.
That’s when the fire alarm goes off.
A hundred decibels of shrieking chaos, the kitchen instantly transformed into a disaster movie.
Auren starts laughing so hard she nearly collapses, and I can’t even blame her. I’m staggering, still leaking, desperately trying to pull my pants up with one hand while batting at the alarm with the other.
“Go get your bread, champion,” she hollers after me. “I’ll just be here, recovering from my concussion.”
I yank the oven door open, and a plume of black smoke bursts out, carrying with it the scent of ruined garlic and dashed culinary dreams. I lunge for the tray, cursing as I burn my palm, and toss the entire thing onto the stove top.
The bread is charcoal, but there’s something triumphant about the spectacle—like even the universe couldn’t handle the heat between us.
When I turn back, Auren is still sprawled on the counter, legs dangling off the edge, eyes half-closed and hair spread outaround her like a halo. She looks absolutely destroyed, and I can’t remember the last time I was this satisfied with anything.
She stirs as I approach, blinking up at me with lazy affection.
“Well,” she says, voice hoarse, “at least the soup survived.”
I huff, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I have more dough rising. Give me an hour and I’ll bake you a fresh one.”
She stretches, making a show of it, then lets her arms flop down to her sides.
“Honestly? I need a nap more than I need bread right now.” She yawns, looking almost bashful. “Fuck, you wore me out.”
I run a hand through her hair, sweeping the sweat-damp strands from her face, and press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Let your Alpha take care of it. Sleep if you need to.”
