Page 44 of Torment Me Knot
This. This is what it's supposed to be. I'm giving this kiss and he's giving it back and I didn't know. I didn't know it could be like this. Heat spreads through my limbs. Then slick pools between my thighs. The shock makes me gasp against his mouth. I'm slicking. For him. For an omega. But he’s my omega. My mate. My heart and soul. My everything.
“Gods, Espie. I want you so badly. I feel you inside me and I love that. I want to be inside you so I feel you closer,” he says.
His desperation sinks into me, matching mine. Even holding me close, he’s too far apart. I want him inside me everywhere.
His scent shifts first, cedar blooming thick and heady, and then the heat of him against my hip, and then his own slick, warm where his thighs press against mine. We're both slicking. At the same time. For each other.
Aubrey’s nostrils flare. He comes back to himself, sharper, more present. More male. That part of him that's been buried under years of abuse and months of catatonia claws its way to the surface.
He becomes someone instead of a ghost wearing a body. Yesterday he was barely there, curled in on himself, flinching from shadows. Now he's looking at me like he wants to devour me. The transformation is terrifying and beautiful and I want to cry and laugh at the same time.
This is who Axel tried to destroy and he's still in there, fighting his way back.
“Yes, Aubrey. Yes to anything you want to do to me,” I whisper.
The kiss changes. Harder. More demanding. He's taking now, not receiving. His hand grips my hip and pulls me flush against him, and there's no mistaking how much he wants this. A low sound rumbles in his throat, not quite a growl, not quite a purr, something between that makes my spine arc. I don't pull back. I meet him. Match his intensity. My scent spikes, perfuming back, claiming him the same way he's claiming me.
This is mine. This response is mine. Not forced by synthetic alpha pheromones or heat or any of the biological bullshit I can't control. I'm wet for Aubrey because I want him. Me. My choice.
I hook one leg over his hip, then the other, locking my ankles at the small of his back. He makes a sound against my mouth. I drag him closer, until there's nothing between us but two thin layers of cotton and the heat of him, hard and insistent against the seam of my pajamas.
I'm soaked. The fabric clings, slides, slick spreading where his hip meets mine, and his pajamas are damp too, scent-thick and obvious.
I rock against him. His breath stutters. His hand on my hip clamps down, fingers digging in, and then he's rocking back, finding the rhythm I started, the friction building unbearable and exact. The pressure right where I need it. Cedar floods the space between us, thicker than I've ever scented him, mixing with my gardenia until I can't tell where his scent ends and mine begins.
Closer. Tighter. The coil in my belly winds and winds and I hear myself making sounds, small and broken against his mouth, and he's making them back, our breath mingling, our hips moving together like we've done this a thousand times.
His teeth catch my lower lip as I shatter. The orgasm rolls through me, my whole body clenching around nothing and everything at once, a wave of slick spreading hot between mythighs. Aubrey's hand spasms on my hip. He buries his face in my throat and follows me down, his whole body shuddering against mine, a low broken sound torn out of him into my skin.
We hold each other through the aftershocks. Breathing ragged. Damp. Spent.
Mine. The word keeps echoing. Mine. Mine. Mine.
“That felt...” He can't finish the sentence.
“Amazing. That felt… amazing,” I whisper.
A laugh escapes him. Quiet, almost startled, more breath than sound. The cedar in his scent goes warm at the edges, sweetens, and something low in my chest unknots.
“Amazing,” he echoes. The corner of his mouth lifts.
It's barely a smile. The smallest curve. But his whole face changes around it, the tightness in his jaw loosening, the careful blankness slipping for one unguarded second, and there he is. I want to keep him smiling. I want to put both hands on his face and hold the moment still and not let the world have him back.
His thumb strokes across my cheekbone. My hand rests against his chest, his heart pounding beneath my palm. Right here, right now, wrapped around Aubrey with our scents blended and our bodies still humming. My body chose without biology forcing its hand.
“How is it like this?” he says.
I shake my head because I don’t know. This, what I feel for him, goes beyond words. “I’m so glad I found you,” I say instead.
Voices outside the room. My whole body goes alert. Their scents push through the walls, layering over everything Aubrey and I built together. Oakwood and whiskey. Earl Grey and sandalwood. Fresh linen. Blood orange and basil.
Aubrey goes rigid against me. I find his gaze and hold it. We listen together.
“They need breakfast.” Kev's voice, low. “Do we bring them down, or...?”
“We bring food up here.” Sera cuts him off. “We don't make them come to us.”
“I can do toast. Maybe some oats.” Ezra, softer. “Something their stomachs can handle. Don't want to overwhelm them.”
