Page 11 of Knotting With A Stranger

Heat floods my body. I shouldn’t encourage this, but...

Depends on the kitchen counter height.

Good answer. But that doesn’t answer the question.

Fuck. I shift, already hard. I reach down to adjust my cock.

That’s dangerous territory, baker girl.

Too scared to answer?

More like too aware of what thinking about you in any position would do to me right now.

...oh.

Yeah. Oh.

Tell me anyway.

I picture her.On top, straddling me. I want to watch your face, see what makes you bite your lip, hear every sound...

There’s a long wait before her reply comes.

Now, who’s being dangerous?

You started it. Your turn to answer.

Feels like an eternity waiting for her.

Against the wall, you behind me, taking control.

Christ. I try to steady my breathing.

You’re killing me here.

Good.

I close my eyes, picturing her next to me instead of these concrete walls. I deliberately haven’t asked what she looks like; wanted to know her mind first. But now... fuck. I want to see her smile, taste her skin, feel her curves against me.

The phone vibrates in my hand.

Earth to James? Did I break you?

Just thinking.

About?

About how fucking much I want to be honest with her. Instead, I type,About how much I like talking to you.

Smooth recovery, Chef. But same.

We talk until her responses get slower, sleepier. Until she’s sending typo-filled messages about needing to be up for the morning rush.

Go to sleep, baker girl.

Sweet dreams, Chef.

Her last message comes through as footsteps pass my cell.

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