Page 7 of Knotting Autumn

“It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever listened to.”

Rolling my hips, I rubbed the seam of my jeans over my center, adding pressure to my sensitive clit. My head fell forward, resting in the crook of his neck. As I ground down again, another pornstar-worthy moan ripped out of me.

“That’s it, baby,” he said. “Touch yourself, please. Fuck, I need to see you come. Do it now.”

My inhale was a shudder, but my hands fumbled with my button and yanked my zipper down like Sawyer had some sort of mystical power over me. I didn’t even remember deciding to do it.

Luckily, my jeans were loose, and my hand slid easily into my panties. My fingertips slipped through my slick folds. There was so much wetness, more than ever before. My entire body jerked as my middle finger brushed over my clit.

Moaning, I plunged two fingers deep in my pussy, pressing them against my g-spot. Stars exploded in my vision. I froze, trying to regain my composure enough that I could keep breathing.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers,” Sawyer muttered. “Stretch yourself out, so I can lay you down on this rug and split you open with my cock.”

The image of him doing exactly that sent a shiver through me. Each breath was a whine as I slid two fingers back inside of me, the meat of my palm pressing over my clit.

“I’m going to fucking breed you until you can’t remember your own name, until you’re screaming. Fill you with mycum so it’s dripping out of you. Until you can’t walk without remembering how I fucked you.”

Filthy words flowed from his lips, and my fingers shoved back in. Normally I’d just touch my clit, but I needed something in my pussy, filling me. Three of my own fingers wasn’t enough, but it was all I could manage. If I got up to get a toy, I was worried Sawyer would throw me down and make good on all his promises. And it scared me how badly I wanted that.

Getting myself off while on his lap was one thing, but actually letting him stick his dick inside of me? That was a boundary I wasn’t ready to cross, even in my frenzied state. No matter how tempting it sounded.

A wave of pleasure washed over me, tension building, until I pressed my forehead into his. He whispered a stream of incoherent words, all the things he’d do to me, as I broke.

Tumbling over the edge, my orgasm took hold. My body seized, and his hold tightened, keeping me in place as my core pulsed and squeezed and my lungs refused to work. My vision went spotty, and as it faded, I was gasping for air.

“Fuck!” was all I could say, pulling my hand free. Shoving back, I staggered to my feet and stumbled to my room. “Sorry!” I yelped, slamming the door between us.

Fuckity fuck shit!

What the hell was I thinking?

I’d never forgive myself if I just ruined the most important relationship in my life. Throwing myself onto my bed, I spluttered, still struggling to take in air.

My body throbbed, begging for more. I could go back out into the living room, take off my clothes, and open my legs in a lewd invitation. He wouldn’t deny me. Not the way he looked at me like I was a juicy steak he wanted to tear into.

Nope, I was not going to make this even worse.

As another wave of arousal hit me, I yanked open my drawer and felt around for literally any sex toy I could shove into my pussy.

And to my shame, it was Thorne, not Sawyer, I pictured as I ripped off my shorts and impaled myself on the hot pink giant. I was going to be so sore by the time I relieved this ache.

Chapter 4

Soulmates and Ramen

I barely left my room for the next two days. Sawyer brought me the food deliveries I ordered using my phone, and stayed true to his word, pretending that nothing had happened between us. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

On the second day, my boss called, sounding suspicious. Not wanting to say that I had a panic attack because I got super, ridiculously horny, I lied and said I’d gotten a stomach virus. She was very understanding, but we agreed I’d come back to work the next day. She seemed stressed, and I had a feeling Margie wasn’t managing well on her own.

So, the third day after my episode of absolute insanity, I exited my room wearing a neon yellow “Hay Girl Hay” shirt.

Sawyer straightened in his seat at the kitchen table. “She lives! Do you want some breakfast?”

“I’m actually late. I’ll see you tonight,” I said, avoiding eye contact. Gripping a canned coffee tightly, I slipped past him and out the door. My heart pounded, and I had no clue if it was the lingering effect of whatever the hell had happened three days ago, or if it was anxiety over my sexcapade with Sawyer.

My cheeks burned from the memory. I did my best to shake off the lingering humiliation. Cool fall air soothed my heated skin, and by the time I reached the store, I felt almost normal.

Margie greeted me warmly at the door. “Are you feeling okay? Let me know if you need any extra breaks, or if you start to feel anxious or sick. You should take things slow today,” she babbled.