Page 59 of Knot Just for Show

Now I just have to trust that good ol’ Timmy was able to deliver the goods.

“I had a little bit of a spicy idea for our date tonight,” I purr, already absently stroking the soft square of folded blanket on the sofa arm beside me.

“Spicy? What’s in the box, a bottle of pepto?” she laughs and I can hear the gentle tinkle of glass on glass before she gives a loud inhaling sniff of the bouquet that’s been delivered to her.

“Spider Chrysanthemums,” she hums sweetly, sighing. “The smell of mums usually make me think of fall—but these smell more like spring.”

I feel the corners of my mouth twist upward in a smile. I hadn’t expected her to appreciate my choice of flower so much.

“Did you pick the color yourself?” she coos sweetly, and I wonder if her eyes are on the box—if she’s already picked it up—if she’s curious about what is inside.

“Actually, I had a little help with that. I wasn’t sure what your favorite color was, but Ash is a good dude and he filled me in,” I admit, though, I wish I could take all the credit for myself. “Since gold isn’t really a color option for flowers, I figured we’d go with red.”

“Well, teamwork really won here—they’re an incredible deep red. I love them,” Ursula gushes.

I can’t help but feel a grateful swell of affection for Ash. Without bro’s help, I could have really bungled this one.

“I’m almost afraid to open this box though, Teddy,” she adds cautiously, a giddy little giggle not far behind.

“Don’t worry—I’m not an absolute nutbag, it’s not a ring or anything.” I scoff playfully, and I’m happy to hear the relieved laugh that escapes her—warm and full.

“I didn’t think you were that kinda guy, but I’ll tell ya—I’m a lot less stressed now.” I hear the soft scrabbling sounds of her pulling apart the wrapping paper.

Moment of truth—did Timmy pull through for me or not?

I sit quietly, waiting for Ursula’s reaction.

“Ha!” The laugh is high and breathy, a far cry from the relieved sound she’d made seconds earlier.

For a split second, I skirt the edge of panic—my heart suddenly throbbing as if it lays just beneath my tongue.

“Teddy…is this…is this what I think it is?” her voice is a high-pitched titter, the upswing of her question taking off with the added boost of disbelief.

I hold my breath—still unsure if Timmy’s done his duty.

A second later—I hear a loud telltale buzz, followed by a muted gasp from Ursula as she quickly silences the vibrator.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she laughs, her disbelief apparent.

Shock I can work with—as long as she’s a willing participant.

“I’m dead serious, Princess,” I purr, kicking back on the couch—my blanket in my hands. “You expressed some anxiety around our potential compatibility—and I’m here to show you that I’m the real deal—I don’t even need to see you or for you to see me to get the job done.” I explain, snapping the blanket out so thatit falls across my lower body, my cock already stiffening at the prospect of the delicious work ahead of me.

“B-but, t-the show—the cameras,” Ursula stammers, her voice nearly cracking clean in two.

“You brought your blanket, right?” I prompt her, hoping my low and steady purr can reach her on the other side of the wall.

“I don’t see how—” she sputters, though I can hear her breaths evening out slightly.

“Listen, they’re going to edit so much shit out of this show—just think about when we’re on our little fuckcation after the reveal; there’s going to be plenty of footage that you won't see anywhere but the cutting room floor,” I remind her before adding, “You just snuggle up under that blanket and no one is going to see anything—the censors at Nestflix aren’t going to keep this,” I assure her.

There’s a long enough silence that I am worried that she is gearing up to tell me to get bent. Instead, I eventually heard the rustling of pillows and blankets as Ursula settles into her sofa on the other side of the wall.

“Alright Teddy, lets see what you can do,” Ursula finally sighs, somewhere between resignation and anticipation.

“Ok, Princess, first I wanna ask you a couple of questions—if you ever wanna stop, all you have to say is ‘stop’. No questions asked,” I rumble, my hand lazily traveling back and forth over the hard plane of my stomach as we begin.

Chapter Twenty-One

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