Page 82 of Knot Just for Show

“More,” she whines—rolling her hips against my hand, my mouth.

“Two,” I sigh, my middle finger joining my index—both fingers curling toward her g-spot as I close my lips around her clit with gentle suction.

“Teddy,” she whines—and I can feel her glutes begin to twitch beneath my grip.

“You feel so tight, so hot—I can tell my princess needs three,” I growl, my lips grazing her clit as I add my ring finger.

Ursula lets out a wail of pleasure, her thighs pressing together on either side of my head as she writhes in my grip—my other hand still firmly gripping her ass, holding her afloat.

I continue my unrelenting strokes—my tongue flicking across her hard clit through the suction of my pursed lips. I can feel my knot—hot and pounding at the base of my cock, but I keepmy thoughts on the task at hand. If I allow my mind to wander, to lean into the sensations in my body—each and every impulse telling me to bury myself inside her, I'll simply fall into the chasm.

For fuck's sake, I practically feel like I'm tumbling headlong into rut territory, but for now—I hold the line between besting my body chemistry and the insatiable bestial hunger that lurks just beneath.

Just as I'm beginning to worry that my hard-won resolve is in danger of crumbling—Ursula’s hands clutch in my hair, her long nails brushing against my scalp send a tiny electric buzz all the way down my spine as she calls out my name—her legs spasming in little jerky movements as she cums in my mouth.

God help me…now that I've started down this road, as long as I keep getting green lights…I'm not sure that I can stop. That I want to. I want to see just how far it goes—what turns it takes. And yes, I want to ride—All. Night. Long.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mavren

Teddy looks tired, but ridiculously pleased with himself, and Ursula looks positively radiant in her short satin robe when we get back to the villa after having been ousted from our temporary abode for the afternoon.

“I promise I won't be that much longer!” Ursula calls as she scampers through the open kitchen, grabbing a glass of water—a few rollers in her hair, a small gilded hamsa glittering against her skin; a rich olive gold from so much time spent in the sun.

I grin, thankful that I advocated for myself earlier in the day when discussing the plans for my date with Ursula with the producers.

Timmy and Kimmy had originally told me I’d be making a romantic dinner for Ursula and I using the hotel’s restaurant kitchen. They were going to shoot the dinner in a special event room, then bring us back to the villa—devoid of our other pack members, for a few hours of private time.

Making the case to cook in the villa’s more than adequate kitchen, with a more seamless transition to some evening alone time, was easier than I expected. Timmy and Kimmy vowed to make arrangements for the boys, allowing me to spend my afternoon outside the villa focused on acquiring ingredients for my private chef’s table with Ursula later this evening.

“Take your time, the boys are going to be getting out of here—and we’re going to have our own private dinner service here. I’m finally going to get to cook for you, and get to enjoy a little peace and quiet—just the two of us.” I intercept Ursula on her way back to her boudoir, my hands resting easily on the cool, slippery satin of her robe at her waist, traveling to the small of her back—massaging gently.

“That sounds heavenly,” she sighs, pressing up onto her tiptoes to kiss me on the lips.

“I can shave before dinner, too,” I laugh, running a hand over my chin, the stubble beginning to shade my jaw.

“Only if you want.” She blushes a pretty shade of rose, her golden eyes sliding away. “I kind of like the scruff, and I love a beard.”

I nuzzle the side of my face against hers and she giggles instead of chastising me for ruining her makeup. Instead, she kisses me again sweetly—before wriggling out of my grip and scampering off down the hall.

“I gotta finish getting ready—do you need me to do anything once I’m dressed?” she calls, pausing a moment before rounding the corner into the hall.

“Yeah, come show me the fit—y’know, walk the dessert cart out for me so I can get a look.” I look her up and down and lick my lips.

“Alright, ok—I can do that.” Ursula shakes her head, a funny little smile on her lips as she disappears from view.

I hear her before I see her—Ursula’s voice faint beneath the wolf whistling and fussing of the other guys through the open patio door.

I’ve left the large sliding doors to the outdoor mezzanine dining area open to the kitchen as I work, and now I can hear the motor of the van in the turnaround driveway—the boys jostling to appreciate Ursula’s look for the evening before they’re ferried off to dinner and drinks elsewhere on the property, while Ursula and I are left to appreciate some much needed alone time.

I wait until I hear the heavy front door close; the van pulling out of the drive. Once I know they’re gone—I pull the bubbly from the fridge and two delicate crystal flutes from the cabinet. I have just enough time to pop open the bottle of Cremant deBourgogne—to serve the gently fizzing brut rose into the fine crystal before Ursula appears in the open patio door.

“Good evening, chef,” she greets me, a smug smile on her face as she watches my eyes rove slowly down her body.

Though she hadn’t ever asked my favorite color, a smart girl, Ursula had probably guessed. Her slip dress, a rich chartreuse, compliments the olive gold of her tan perfectly—her eyes like glittering citrine.

“I require a closer inspection.” I gesture for her to approach—making a comically ‘serious’ face like a television head chef about to dress down a member of his line.

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