Page 93 of Knot Just for Show

“You don’t say…” Ursula cranes her neck—the blunt still perched delicately between her fingers as she steps out of her shoes.

“Well, I’m ready if you are.” I toss the paper onto the bamboo tray and resume unbuttoning my shirt—Ursula’s eyes turning back to me.

“Remember Lysander,” she begins—her eyes following my hands as they drift from the last button of my shirt to the brass buckle of my leather belt. “There’s absolutely no rush, we do as much or as little as you want.” Ursula turns away from me, slowly giving me her back—shoulders bare—an elaborate ladder of heavy silk rope laces crisscrossing the back of the corset-bustier.

I nod—my eyes glued to her.

“Would you mind untying me, Lysander?” She looks back over her left shoulder, and I almost trip over my own feet as I scramble for her so quickly.

Fiddling with the knot doesn’t take long, and before I know it—Ursula has stepped away from me—shimmying out of the dress to reveal a pair of French briefs in black silk—her large, pendulous breasts completely bare.

“There, that’s better,” she sighs, stepping out of the spare black silk panties—giving a gentle stretch. “Here, let me help you,” Ursula purrs, closing the small distance between us—unbuttoning my linen slacks—my cock already starting to stir at the sight of her.

I see her eyes widen imperceptibly as she tugs at the elastic waist of my boxers, the loose cotton falling away to expose my knotless, not yet half hard cock.

Ursula shakes her head gently—a worried smile quirking the corners of her mouth.

“Everything alright?” I ask her—her gaze snapping back to mine with a giddy, guilty glee.

“Oh everything is fine…it’s just something that Ronan said is coming back to me now. I think I can see what he means.” She nods absently—her gaze drifting back downward before bungee snapping back to eye contact.

“What did he say?” I have to focus all of my brain power not to just reach out and touch those incredible breasts—every single thing in my monkey brain is crying out to put my hands and mouth on them, my cock growing harder with each heartbeat.

She places the ashtray and the blunt on a side table.

“That I’m going to have my hands full, shall we say.” She smirks, as if having read my mind—taking my hands in hers—lacing our fingers together briefly, before guiding my warm palms to her hard pink nipples.

We stand there—my hands roving over her soft flesh, gently tweaking the hard nipples.

Ursula moans into my mouth—the two of us leaning against one another—my rock hard cock pressed against the softness of her belly.

My hands are about to travel lower when we hear a faint, distant splashing—the soft whisper of voices.

She breaks the kiss, snickering.

“Sounds like they may be getting impatient.” Ursula lets me go, retrieving the blunt from the tray and grabbing her champagne glass—raising them both to me as she prepares to step down into the pool.

“Yes, yes—better not keep them waiting.” I agree, hurrying after her—grabbing my glass of champagne—cock bobbing all the while.

Chapter Thirty-One

Ursula

While waiting for the reveal, I had thought, ‘This anticipation might kill me. Nothing is going to top this.’

How very wrong I had been.

The evening has been full of surprises thus far—least of all that Lysander actually asked to share the latter half of his date with the entirety of our pack.

Pack Gold.

I can still hardly believe this isn’t a dream, my eyes darting to the glittering gold and ruby ring on my finger as I round the corner of the villa’s wrap around pool—Lysander at my side.

Oh.

A scene unfolds before me—like a renaissance painting, or a sculpture garden populated with the figures of the gods.

The light is a mix of warm and cool, the silvery blue of moon and starlight from the clear skies above plays against the warm, dancing light of the lanterns on the surface of the water—the dim twinkling lights cast from the bedroom, the high flame of the torches on the corners of the patio railing; the dreamy lighting only adding to the surreality of the scene.

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