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My sisters and girlfriends all talk about the elusive multiple orgasm that only seems to happen on a blue moon, but this is beyond multiples. Multiples and consecutives and I need it to stop. I’m like a ragdoll, just convulsing.
Mercifully, it’s over in what feels like about five minutes.
Mercilessly, his knot still won’t release me.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“Are you sore, too?” I ask.
Our eyes meet and he frowns. “Fuck,” he barks then rubs his forehead.
Okay, so if I’m reading him right, he’s not sore. But now he knows I am. And he’s feeling bad about it? Maybe?
“Hang on,” he says and wraps his arm under my butt to carry me to the other room.
We walk over the bathroom door, which is laying in between the other rooms and move into the other room, a small bedroom with a twin mattress on the floor, a bookshelf with some children’s books, a stack of a couple boxes, and a little kid’s desk and chair. He squats to fetch his gym bag from the floor. He sets it on the desk and unzips it with one hand, the other arm still wrapped under my booty.
He takes out his phone and dials.
“Aunt Cat? Hey.”
“Riley!” she replies cheerily.
I can hear her loud and clear what with our proximity to one another.
“Got a problem,” he states.
“Oh?”
“My knot won’t release.”
“Your…” She lets that hang.
“Nope.” He looks mortified as his eyes flit over my face and then look away from me, off to the side.
“How long has it been?” I hear her ask.
“Since somewhere around midnight last night.”
“That’s about when your mating scent released. We can smell it all the way here. Didn’t expect that since Greyson’s scent is still lingering.”
He’s staring over my shoulder, studiously avoiding my eyes. I bite my lip. My left hand is over his shoulder, my right hand is dangling. It’s pretty dang awkward to be attached to someone in this… manner… when they don’t even want to look at you.
“It hasn’t let go.”
“In ten hours? Not even for a little?”
“Not at all.”
“Oh.”
“You’ve never heard of this?” he asks.
He carries me back to the other bedroom and sits on the bed. I tuck my knees in and examine my fingernails as he wraps an arm around my back. Not affectionately, either. Perfunctorily.
“Not in our pack, so I have no idea how it’s resolved. Um… why don’t you try getting into a warm bath? And then call me if it doesn’t work. Meanwhile, I’ll get on the phone and see what I can find out.”
“Fuck,” he mutters.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t use your name. And congratulations,” she says earnestly.
He doesn’t respond.
“Love you, Riley,” she adds.
“Love ya,” he says and then he ends the call.
Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t want it getting around that his parts are malfunctioning. That’s something other men might rib you about. And congratulations aren’t in order when you’ve accidentally mated with someone you hate. Though his aunt probably doesn’t know it was just a biological reaction to being in the same small space.
Something dawns. I haven’t gone pee in about ten hours. Thankfully, I don’t feel the urge to go. Probably because… I can only guess… all the sex has used up whatever moisture is in my body? Who knows? I’m not a doctor. Though, I did just drink almost half a bottle of water.
I’ll try to put it out of my mind, so I don’t inadvertently trigger my bladder, which has always been prone to the power of suggestion.
We’re on the move again and in the bathroom. I’m relieved it’s a giant lion-footed soaker tub much like the one in Cicely’s apartment. Hopefully it’ll be big enough. Riley is not a small guy. He blows out a long breath and then climbs in and squats with me wrapped around his middle as he pops the plug in, turns the water on, adjusts it, then sits down and scoots backwards. My back is to the taps.
It's wide enough, but barely. My knees are pressed into the sides of the tub, and I try to shift myself so it’s not as uncomfortable on my knees and my ankles, which are wedged in tight.
Our eyes meet. His dart away.
I chew my cheek.
“Too hot?” he asks, still looking anywhere but at me.
“No.”
My vagina hurts, and my knees and ankles aren’t feeling so hot either. My whole body aches, in fact. Though not nearly as much as my heart.
A sob chokes out against my will, and I cover my face with both hands, totally losing it.
“God damn it,” he cusses.
He gently pulls my hands away from my face. I can’t stop crying. I’m sure I look like an ugly mess right now. Naked. Stuck.
He’s got a less hard look in his eyes.
He’s about to say something and then his expression changes.
“Shit, try to relax your muscles, okay? You’re clamping down on me and…”
