Page 1 of Knot Just a Spectator
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Thegymdoorsslamopen behind me like they’re personally offended I showed up, and I step onto the mats with the kind of swagger that usually gets me pinned in under five seconds.Good. That’s the plan.
I’m wearing the smallest singlet Knotlocke’s rules will allow, black, skin-tight, and cut so high on the thighs it might as well be a thong with delusions of athletic grandeur. The fabric clings to every inch of my body like it was shrink-wrapped on.
My cock is already half-interested just from the walk across campus, and the way the material cups my balls and the thick silver piercing through the head is going to be a problem real fucking soon. I added a new ring through my lower lip this morning on the right side, just to watch Coach Marisol Vega’s eye twitch when she pretends she doesn’t notice.
Because she always notices.
Dark cherry and burnt sugar roll off me in a thick wave as I drop my bag by the wall. The scent’s already sharpening at the edges, that smoky bourbon kicking in because my body knows exactly who’s about to spend the next two hours trying not to look at me.Sol.
Five-ten of pure coiled Alpha muscle, reddish brown braid tight enough to make me want to yank it loose, her cinnamon and gunpowder scent thick in the air like she’s been simmering since breakfast. She’s standing at the edge of the mat in her black Knotlocke gear, arms crossed, jaw set like she’s already regretting every life choice that led her to this moment.
“Reyes,” she says, voice low and flat, the way it always gets when she’s pretending she’s in full coach mode. “You’re late.”
I flash her my sweetest smile, twist the new lip ring with my tongue on purpose, and let my gaze drag down her body slow enough to be rude. “Miss me, Vega?”
Her eyes flick to the new ring for half a second, dark brown irises flashing with something that looks a hell of a lot like lust before she locks it down. She just jerks her chin toward the center mat.
“Warm-ups. Now.”
I saunter out there like I own the place, which I kind of do if you count the size of my dad’s last donation check. The rest of the tiny wrestling squad is already circling up, Kenji giving me the side-eye, Devon looking like he wants to melt into the mat, but I ignore them. My focus is one hundred percent onthe woman who’s been haunting my jerk-off sessions for the last year.
We’ve crossed the line exactly three times.
Once, last spring, during my unofficial visit, she cornered me in the equipment room after I ran my mouth one too many times. Her hand around my throat, my back against the wall, her mouth an inch from mine while she growled, “You keep pushing, and I’m going to push back, Reyes.”She didn’t kiss me. She wanted to. I could smell how bad she wanted to.
The second time was two weeks ago, right after I officially transferred. Late night in this exact gym, just the two of us “reviewing film.” Her thigh between mine, my singlet shoved down, her fingers wrapped around my pierced cock while she told me exactly what she’d do to me if I wasn’t her athlete. She stopped before either of us came.Barely.
The third time was four days ago in the parking lot after Iaccidentallybrushed my ass against her while we were loading mats. She pinned me against her Subaru so fast I saw stars, her mouth on my neck, teeth scraping my scent gland, whispering, “One more time, Reyes, and I won’t stop.” Then she walked away like she hadn’t just left me slicking in my jeans.
The coil between us is wound so tight, I can feel it vibrating under my skin every time she looks at me. This year? I’m snapping it. I’m making it stick. I want her bite on my throat and Roxie’s teeth somewhere a lot lower. Though having a coachandone of the Alphas from the girls’ team is a pipe dream. But I want it bad enough that I’m willing to risk getting kicked out of the program, the school, and possibly the state.
We start drills, the restlessness I’ve been trying to find an outlet for slipping out of my mouth.
“Little tighter on that grip, Kenji—unless you’re trying to feel me up.”
“Devon, baby, if you keep hesitating like that, I’m gonna start thinking you like me on top.”
Every time I shoot in, I make sure to arch my back just a little extra when I end up on the mat, singlet riding up, ass on full display. Sol’s eyes track every movement. I catch the exact second her scent spikes, Sol growling at me before looking away.
“Again, Reyes.”
I shoot. She drops me.Hard.
My back hits the mat with a slap that knocks the breath out of me, and there she is, hovering just long enough for me to see the way her pupils have blown wide, the way her chest rises faster than it should for someone who’s barely moved. Lust. Raw, barely-leashed lust. My cock throbs against the singlet, the piercing dragging against the fabric and sending sparks up my spine.
Slick coats my ass, threatening to drench my shorts, but I keep it together.Barely.
“Vega,” I pant, grinning up at her even though my tailbone is screaming. “You gonna keep putting me on my back or are we gonna do something about it?”
Her nostrils flare. For a second, I think she’s going to drag me into the office right there in front of everyone. Instead, she straightens, her voice flattening completely.
“Again.”
She drops me a second and then a third time. Each time I’m slower getting up, letting her see exactly how hard I am, letting my scent pour out, dark cherry so sweet it’s obscene, slick already slipping between my cheeks because my body is a traitor and it knows what it wants. Sol’s eyes keep darkening, and I can feel how bad she wants to stop pretending.
We’re thirty minutes in when the side doors bang open, and the women’s MMA team files in for shared mat time. Sol pushesto her feet as I sit up, tracking the second most beautiful woman in existence.
