Page 165 of Knot Baked Out For This
I slide my hand lower, cupping her through her leggings, feeling the heat radiating from her core. She bucks against my palm, a soft moan escaping, and I rub slow circles, watching her face contort in pleasure.
"Tell me what you want, Hazel. Use your words."
"You," she pants, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. "Inside me. Now."
Fuck, that's direct. And hot as hell.
I growl, hooking my fingers into her waistband, ready to tug them down, when another clumsy moment hits—literally. As I shift to pull her leggings off, my knee slips on the mat, still slick from our earlier sweat, and I topple sideways, taking her with me in a tangle of limbs.
We roll once, twice, ending up with her on top again, both of us laughing hysterically. "Okay, now that's twice!" she gasps between giggles. "Are you sure you're the coordinated one?"
I wheeze, trying to catch my breath. "Mats are traitors. Or maybe it's you—making me lose my mind." I pull her down for another kiss, this one softer, laced with affection. Her laughter vibrates against my chest, and damn if it doesn't make me fall harder. This is us—cozy chaos, bickering and banter mixed with heat, like the bonfires at the Harvest Fair where we'd steal glances years ago.
She sits up, straddling me once more, her hands pinning my shoulders. "Admit it—you're hopeless without me."
"Hopelessly in love," I counter, bucking up gently to remind her of the hardness still straining between us. Her eyes widen, then darken with renewed hunger.
"Prove it," she says, grinding down slow and deliberate.
I sit up, wrapping my arms around her, our faces inches apart. Her scent envelopes me—vanilla, cinnamon, and that omega sweetness that's all arousal now. The gym feels smaller, intimate, the outside world fading. "I will…but" Even as I say it, my body protests, knot throbbing at the thought of waiting.
She pouts, adorable and frustrating.
"Tease."
"Practical. Anyone could walk in." But my hands betray me, sliding under her top again, thumbs brushing her nipples. She shivers, pressing closer.
"Then lock the door," she suggests, voice husky.
Tempting. So tempting.
I glance at the door, calculating—it's just us, the station quiet after the session. But then I think of her past, of not rushing, of making sure every moment is right. "Hazel..."
She kisses me again, cutting off my protest, her body rocking against mine in a rhythm that's driving me insane.
"Please, Rowan. I need you."
Those words—fuck, they undo me.My resistance crumbles, hands roaming freely now, tugging at her clothes. She's right; we're alone, and she's asking, begging even. Her attractiveness hits me anew—curves that fit perfectly in my hands, eyes that see right through me, strength that's grown from ashes.
Something funny happens then, breaking the intensity once more. As I finally yank her leggings down, exposing her to the cool gym air, a rogue yoga ball from the corner decides to make its escape. It rolls slowly across the mat, bumping into my foot with a soft thud, then bounces off toward the wall like it's judging us.
Hazel dissolves into giggles again.
"You got to be kidding me! Even the equipment's cockblocking you!"
I laugh, shaking my head.
"This gym hates me today."
But you know what? I don’t care anymore. Fuck this. Clumsy or not, I need to fuck here and now.
As the humor fades, heat builds again. She's naked from the waist down now, her slick coating my pants where she grinds. I free myself with fumbling hands, too eager, and she gasps at the sight.
She takes a moment to appreciate my grith, and fuck, it’s such a turn on. To be admired by your Omega. Validating your manhood and Alpha qualities, which I guess I needed the ego boost since I haven’t been very active in the fucking department.
"Rowan..."
"Last chance to stop," I warn, but she’s gripping my shaft before anything else can go astray, stroking me, which makes me grunt while precum at my dip oozes along my length that perfect lubricant.
