Page 49 of Knot Forgotten

I blink at her. This should be the other way around. I should be assuring her that I will make sure we don’t do anything she doesn’t like. Instead, she is comforting me, a purr working her chest and everything.

“Did you eat?” I say. Because what the fuck else am I suppose to say to that? I can feed her; I’m good at making sure she eats. “I make a mean grilled cheese.”

She laughs, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Sounds tasty.”

“Oh it is,” I promise and pop to my feet, putting distance between us before I prove to her exactly how damaged I am.

CHAPTER 25

Erin

The energy in the room still feels off as Cameron moves around the small kitchenette, preparing not only grilled cheese with three cheeses but tomato soup. But I know he is ignoring it on purpose. His confession hangs between us. It isn’t new information. He didn’t want to come in that closet either.

The fact that he thinks it makes him broken doesn’t sit well with me. Everyone has preferences. Right? I am finding that I like rough play, including the after-effects of the bruises. And maybe I like edging too; although not so much orgasm withholding, I may die.

Making a split decision, I want to show him his confession is okay. I press against his back, and he stiffens slightly before my arms circle his waist and my fingers settle over his abdomen.

“Is this okay?” I ask, my fingers becoming bolder as they find the sliver of skin beneath his shirt.

He stops buttering the bread long enough to press his hand over mine, making my touch firmer on his stomach. I tease my fingers along the waistband of his jeans, and he sucks in a breath as I graze his hardening length through the material.

“Do you want me to touch you?” I ask.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice gruff. He stops what he is doing again and leads my left hand to his full erection, pressing my palm against him through the material. “Shit, Rin, your touch through my jeans makes me feel like I’m going to come.”

“Don’t come, Cam. You’re not allowed,” I purr, and he groans as he presses into my touch. My stomach flips at my words because like this morning, I hold a lot of power. It is a new rush that I think I enjoy. “Focus on my dinner.”

He swears under his breath. His musk smelling more like an oncoming storm than the after affects of one. I ghost my fingers over his growing knot, back up to the tip that is quickly damping his jeans, as I watch him drop the sandwich into the warm pan.

The sizzle of the butter cooking mixes with his sharp breaths, and I smile into his shoulder.

“Fuck, I can’t concentrate,” he swears, as one hand grips the counter next to the stove, and his head falls forward.

“Are you going to burn my sandwich?” I ask. Somehow, it comes out sounding low and sexy.

He reaches for the spatula and flips the sandwich, the cooked part a perfect golden brown I can never manage on the first one. But I’m impatient and the pan usually isn’t fully warm.

“Mmm, that looks good,” I say into his shoulder, rubbing my palm over him, his musk mixing with my perfume. I’m walking a dangerous line, and I know it. Biting down on my lower lip, I hold in a whine of my own when he moans low and deep, sending a shiver down my spine.

He reaches down to where my hand is cupped over him and squeezes my fingers into him, showing me what he likes, before removing my touch and patting my hand. “Time to eat.” He flips the grilled cheese onto a plate and cuts it in half before delivering it to the table next to the cooling tomato soup.

My stomach is a hornets nest of buzzing as I follow him the small distance to the chair. All that power I was feeling evaporates, and suddenly, I’m left feeling unsure.

He is so used to edging that he is functioning way better than I ever could. Or maybe I’m not doing it right, an intrusive thought whispers and attempts to take hold. He erases it when he drops down into a seat and pulls me into his lap.

“Keep teasing me while you eat, baby girl.” He lifts his hips slightly, pressing into me. He thinks I will be able to eat? All of my attention is firmly at all the places we currently touch, and food is the last thing on my mind.

“Cam,” I whisper. In response, he urges me to grind against him, and air rushes into my lungs ending on a moan. Teasing him is teasing me, and I may not survive.

He reaches around me and picks up the sandwich, dipping it into the tomato soup before bringing it to my lips. “Open up, sweetheart.”

I do as he says and attempt to chew the food and swallow it while the friction between us is building up to something more. As soon as I’m finished, he has the sandwich at my lips again, and before I know it, I have half of it done. Not that I notice anything but the frustration growing from the friction, I need something more.

“No more, Cam,” I gasp when he reaches for the second half.

He stops everything, leaving me feeling as if I’m alone at sea, my core pulsing around nothing, my body remembering the echoes of the friction. I can’t take it, and I stand up, turning to straddle him instead. My arms go around his neck, and he kisses me with a growl that shoots straight to my belly.

“Fuck, Rinny,” he swears against my lips, nipping at the lower one. “Let me touch you.”

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