Page 50 of Knot Forgotten

I nod, because what are words? And one of his hands snakes around my body to the front of my leggings. Then he slides his fingers beneath the waistband and under my panties before parting my folds with two digits while a third finds my clit. He circles it once, twice, a third time, then easily sinks down my folds and into me.

His breaths match mine, both panting and on edge. Mindlessly, I grind against his touch. Will he stop if he knew he was the first to do this? Not just now, but before in the storage closet?

“Give me your moans, baby girl,” he says, capturing my lips with his. I give into his demand, letting him take it all from me as he pumps into me over and over again.

I’m not sure how long he touches me, but when he swirls his finger around my clit again, I see stars. My head drops to his shoulder, and an orgasm washes over me. It’s clear as I become aware of my surroundings he didn’t reach the same conclusion. A slight pang goes through my chest when he smiles at me and then sets me into the other chair like we are done.

And I’m not sure what I expect, but this feels detached and almost cold.

“What about–”

“Me? This is perfect, it’s enough.”

I press my lips together as it sinks in what it means for him to withhold orgasm from himself when he is with others. It means we will never have the afterglow of a shared orgasm or the ultimate fulfillment in each other's arms. There will always be some kind of distance. And it hurts something I wasn’t aware of before right this second. I swallow it back because this isn’t about me, and I’m not about to make it about me.

I force a smile and push my hair away from my face. “Good.”

He leaves me soon after and shuts himself into his room, his low moans sounding through the thin walls. I ignore it and lock the feelings it creates away in a box. The others arriving back to the dorm allows me to pretend none of it happened.

CHAPTER 26

Erin

The next morning, I wake to find another gift bag on the table, a scrawled note next to it.

‘Early morning, let this lamp be your light until the sun comes up. Xoxo Blake.’

Smiling, I peek into the bag to find a small lamp, and upon further inspection, I see it is a touch lamp, perfect for mornings when you don’t want the light to blind you. I carry it back to my room and set it up, feeling light and happy the entire time. The teddy bear he gave me sits happily on my blankets, and I run my fingers over the soft fur before going back out into the living area.

Riley is lounging on the couch as if he’s been there the whole time. His face brightens when he catches sight of me, and he stands up.

‘Did you eat?’ he signs.

I shake my head.

“Me either, want to go grab some food?” He ruffles his hair.

‘Sounds good,’ I sign, even though he has his aids in. I’ve always followed his lead, if he is signing, I’ll sign, too. If he is talking, I’ll talk too. Not that he really cares as long as he can read my lips. He’s told me enough times it doesn’t matter, but too many people in his life since he lost his mom have not treated him right. I don’t want to be one of them; I care too much.

He grins and picks up my bag where I left it the previous night as he leads the way out of the dorm. We walk down the quiet halls and out into the crisp morning to the Baldwin for a quick breakfast. He reaches for my hand, tangling his fingers with mine and making warmth bloom in my chest at the action.

A few early risers wave at Riley or stop us for a quick hello, each one looking at me curiously. None of them ask who I am or why he is holding my hand, but I get the impression he doesn’t do this. Hand holding in public isn’t something people see him engage in, which only spreads the happy warmth. By the time we reach our destination, I don’t think anything can wipe the smile off my face.

He grabs a tray and loads two plates with all of my favorites, then carries it to the table I’m starting to think of as mine. Back in the corner, out of the way. He places the tray with our food down and gestures for me to take a seat before sliding next to me into the same side of the booth I choose.

Blocking the rest of the room from view, he turns toward me and puts one of the plates in front of me. “Eat up,” he says.

I pick up a piece of sausage and dip it into the syrup he grabbed. He watches me take a bite and chew as if it fascinates him.

“Riley, you can eat too,” I say, then cover my mouth with my fingers as I continue to chew.

“I will, but we need to keep you fed. I don’t want to see a single curve disappear.” His words are gruff, and my belly flip-flops in response to them.

I take another bite and chew slowly. He reaches out and fingers the almost completely faded mark he left on me. His gaze darkens as he focuses on his fingers on my skin.

“Did you like that?” he asks.

My stomach somersaults, and I try not to squirm on the bench seat. I liked it too much. It probably wasn’t healthy how much I liked the act that brought the bruises about and how much seeing them made me feel something more. Were we both punishing the other at the time? Yes. But it was fucking hot.

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