novelxo Her Knotty List: Chapter 27
Knox is going to get some serious forehead wrinkles if he keeps scowling at me like this.
“Where the hell did you find sprinkles?”
I smirk across the kitchen island, eyeing his omnipresent flannel shirt. So far, he’s worn a different color every day. Red, green. Today’s is blue, which might be a good color on him, if I could see the matching shade of his irises under that faded hat.
“Your neighbor,” I tell him, grinning as I remember the way the little old lady two miles up the road balked when she opened her door and found me on the other side. “I got the sense she doesn’t get many visitors.”
Knox blinks, clearly surprised to find he’s not the only human living in this mountain’s ass-crack. “Huh.”
I thought courting Emma would be complicated, but it’s actually been shockingly easy. Or rather, she makes it easy by being so open and endearing. Her enthusiasm is contagious; every time we talk, she gives me half a dozen ideas for things I could do or get for her.
She also loves food and devours every meal I make, which has been way more fun for me than her. It’s been a long time since I had someone to share my love of cooking with. The way she oohs and ahhs over every bite is as good for my ego as taking care of her is for my sanity.
I nod at Knox, hiding another grin. “Had to freeze my dick off to get there and back before Emma woke up this morning, but it will be worth it. She’s wanted to bake Christmas cookies all week. Can’t have Christmas cookies without sprinkles. And icing.”
I tilt the mixing bowl in front of me so he can see the royal icing I’ve whipped up. Luckily, once the neighbor realized I wasn’t there to rob her, she was thrilled to help me woo my omega. Three of her granddaughters are omegas, apparently. She gushed about how sweet I was while loading a bag full of confectioner’s sugar, food coloring, and all sorts of other goodies.
“By the way,” I say, remembering, “Mrs. Henderson needs you to shovel her sidewalk. Today.”
Knox’s woody musk smolders. He grits his teeth. “Me?”
“Didn’t you read the group text?” I ask, knowing damn well he didn’t. I offer a chipper, innocent smile. “Of course, you! The big, strong mountain-man alpha! Who else would help his little old neighbor with her snowy sidewalk? Oh—and her driveway.”
The grumpy hermit flexes his fists on the top of the island. “And why,” he grinds, “don’t you do it?”
I wave my hands around his kitchen. “Because I’m courting an omega! And cooking meals for five! No time for manual labor. Oh, Gunnar’s out, too. He has to set up his little travel goals and do drills on your pond or something? I wasn’t listening. But Micah said he’d help! Guess he wants to give the rest of us a fighting chance today.”
It’s no secret that Micah’s been killing it in the courting department. He has a sixth sense for how to be helpful in the exact right ways. Combined with his seemingly endless patience—the guy’s a natural.
Maybe being a fireman gave him superhuman powers of cooperation. He’s always looking for ways to chip in, offering help without a speck of hesitation. Micah is a do-gooder in the truest sense… one more thing he and Emma have in common.
I swear, he’s the greenest of green flags.
Unlike the alpha across from me.
I don’t get it. Even now, just sitting there seething, I can tell Knox clearly wants to court Emma. His alpha energy may be leashed tight, but it still claws at mine. Plus, in the moments when he lets himself relax a little, he doesn’t take his eyes off the sweet omega traipsing around his house.
Can’t blame him there. Our girl is hot.
My balls are going to turn to stone if they get any more backed-up. I’ve been walking around with a constant erection for more than two days.
The whole slumber-party situation we have going on doesn’t exactly make it easy to relieve myself. But that definitely hasn’t stopped the others, if the swirl of pheromones in Knox’s shower is any indication. As embarrassing as it is, that ache anchored to the bottom of my heart tugs taut every time I think about jacking off to the many filthy Emma fantasies I’ve conjured up.
I want her. And the first time I come for her, I want to be inside her.
I know, right? That’s some romantic shit.
Who knew I had it in me?
Not me, but there’s no denying the way my stomach flips when Emma comes bouncing into the room.
Gunnar rescued her suitcase from the rental car Knox took care of, so she has all her cute clothes. Today’s outfit is my favorite by far—a loose pink sweater with sparkly thread and white tights that hug her perfect ass. She put on knee-high snowman socks, too. Their googley eyes have me grinning as she jumps into my open arms with an exuberant squeal.
I press kisses over her cheeks, chuckling while I lift her onto the counter. “Hi, gorgeous. Ready for our date?”
Emma smiles, her scent brightening into sugar-and-spice perfection that lights up my soul. Apparently, it’s too much for Knox, because he grumbles something about shoveling that walkway and clips out of the kitchen.
Our girl flinches when the door to the garage shuts behind him. I swoop in and plant my lips over hers as a distraction, purring automatically.
She’s slowly getting used to us doing that for her. Mostly because Micah pretty much never stops. And Gunnar has taken that as some sort of challenge. He likes to compete, and his competitive nature seems to turn Emma on.
It definitely hasn’t escaped any of our notice that his scent is almost always entwined with hers. Whenever they get a moment alone, they’re all over each other.
It makes sense that he’s the one she’s most comfortable with; she knew him before this whole scenario unfolded. I expected to be more jealous, but so far, I’m all for it—Emma needs easing, and Gunnar caring for her might help her Omega come around to him faster.
Plus, more cuddles for our girl means more of this insanely good perfume.
Emma feels me lock up when she crosses her ankles around the backs of my thighs. She hesitates for a moment, probably thinking she’s done something wrong.
Embarrassment is her default setting, and I hate that for her. Scent-marking her neck with my cheek, I deepen my purr to reassure her.
“You smell so good; it’s making me crazy,” I murmur against her pulse. “It’s not fair. I’m trying this new thing where I attempt to act like a gentleman.”
“Act like?” she titters. “You mean you’re not really a giant softy?!”
My face pulls into a wince as I flex my hips, pressing the hard length of my cock against her core. “Not quite. But I did plan something fun that doesn’t require removing your clothes.”
Emma smiles slowly, beaming gratitude and softness. She casts her eyes over all the cookie ingredients I’ve organized. Her thighs tighten around my middle while mischief dances into her gaze.
“What if I want you to remove my clothes?”
Fuck. Me.
I force down a swallow, leaning back to scan her features. Part of me worries I’ve read this all wrong. I want her to know she’s so much more to me than a perfect pussy and mind-melting scent—but maybe I should have been showing her the way my body aches for her instead of holding back.
She sees my hesitation and stretches up to rub her nose along my cheek, exactly the way she did the first day we met. My heart lurches, expanding twice as fast as my knot.
I force a shaky laugh, explaining, “I didn’t mean to hold out on you, gorgeous. I’m just trying to be romantic. And I’m not quite sure how to combine sex and romance, if I’m being honest. I’ve never tried before.”
Her legs hug me again, easy acceptance filling the space around her smile. “So I get to be your first?”
My laugh feels more genuine this time. “You sure do.”
A wicked gleam touches her green eyes. They roll down my naked torso before flashing back to mine. “Hmm… I wanted to paint frosting on your abs and lick it off, but that isn’t exactly roman—mmph.”
My mouth lands on hers, cutting off the rest of her tease. The second our tongues touch, my control collapses and a gravelly groan tears up my throat.
Fuck the cookies.
I’ll make them for her later. While she’s stretched around my knot.
My hands drop to her ass, lifting her into my body. She pulls me closer, locking her limbs around my hips and neck.
Warm curves and plush lips and handfuls of blonde curls. Goddamn, she’s like a feast. I don’t know where to start.
Her frosting comment loops through my mind as her fingers trace the bulge at the front of my sweats. I imagine her big, beautiful tits covered in icing and buck into her touch.
Oh yes.
That’s happening.
Right now.
Still, I take my time working off her sweater, pressing my palms into her curves as I draw it up her body. Fuck, she feels perfect. All softness and flawless pale skin.
I hold her gaze until her shirt is off, knowing that the second I let myself look down at her bared body, I won’t be able to resist. To my surprise, she flashes me a teasing look and reaches down to pluck my hands off her ribs, placing them right over her tits.
“Merry Christmas,” she grins.
And honestly? Best present ever.
I growl, hefting their rounded weight. “Shouldn’t have done that, gorgeous. Giving me free access to these is dangerous.”
She shrugs, the loose gesture belying the way her eyes suddenly seem painfully earnest. “You make doing dangerous things feel really safe.”
That maybe shouldn’t make sense, but I somehow understand exactly what she means. Those alpha-holes made her feel bad about everything. I’m sure sex was part of that. And I’m guessing any kinks that appealed to her were squashed just as thoroughly as her other interests.
But here’s the thing: those pieces of her? They are safe with me.
I give her breasts a gentle squeeze, smiling softly when she gasps. My forehead nuzzles hers. “You bring me whatever kinks that beautiful brain comes up with and I’ll be the luckiest man on Earth.”
A burst of perfume erupts between us. I groan again, pressing my face to hers more insistently. Her fingers find my sides, tracing my obliques while she stammers, “R-really?”
Shit, I’m not going to make it through another breath. So I nod, gripping her tits with more intent. Her questing touch finds my waistband. The erection pressed into it throbs.
A dozen gloriously filthy ideas fly through my mind. I pick my favorite, snapping one of my hands to the side and snatching the pastry bag I filled with green icing.
“Hold still,” I husk, lifting the tip to the bare expanse of her chest. Finally letting myself look at the glory of her.
Holy shit.
The two creamy swells are more than a handful; each tipped in the prettiest pink nipples. They’ve furled tight, waiting for me.
Because she really is the most perfect present.
Licking my lips, I start to shove my joggers off. Her scent thickens into a snickerdoodle haze—cinnamon, vanilla, torched sugar.
Fuck me, I want to lap it out of the air.
Instead, I tug at my pulsing cock, growling on every exhale as she stares blatantly. I can tell she’s gushing for me already because she shifts on the counter, wiggling her hips. Without thought, I drop my knot and reach over to press my fingers into the crotch of her tights.
They’re soaked.
With a wolfish smirk, I grind my thumb into the wet fabric. Emma moans, but just as she starts to squirm for me, I stop, repositioning the pastry bag, tilting it against her tits just so.
“This is royal icing,” I murmur, hiding a smile when the cool liquid hits her skin and she sucks in a sharp breath. “Which means it will harden.”
And it does. The lines and curves I draw over her perfect skin start to set as soon as they hit the cool air of the kitchen.
Emma watches in wide-eyed fascination, which might be adorable if I wasn’t so fucking hard. Like this, though, her awed attention gives me all sorts of wicked ideas.
I make short work of my design, scrawling her name and mine with a plus sign in between and a heart at the end. Cute, right? It probably would be—if I didn’t also draw careful swirls over both of her nipples.
Her lips part, gasping little moans until we’re both grinding at the open air between us. Tossing the bag back onto the counter, I go straight for her tights, ripping them down her legs at the same second she wraps both hands around my cock.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
Every nerve sizzles and snaps as she tugs her fists down my dick. My balls draw up, tingling and aching. I snarl around my next exhale. When a burst of slick dribbles onto my fingers, something in my brain breaks.
“Fuck, Emma,” I pant, dropping straight to my knees. “C’mere.”
My erection smacks the cabinet, but I don’t give a shit. I grip her hips and pull her forward, right into my open mouth.
Good sweet holy fucking—
I might be dead. She tastes so good that I’m either actually in heaven or I’m about to be—because I will smother myself between this woman’s legs.
Yes, please.
Her slick coats my tongue when I slip it between her lips, licking her hot core until she gives me more. Warm cinnamon and gooey brown sugar fill my senses. A trickle of something even more sugary touches my upper lip—and I realize… she’s squirted some of the cookie icing onto her mound.
She didn’t even warn me. She just covered her pretty pussy in frosting and let it drip down…
Holy fuck.
I’m in love.
Moaning, I lap it all up like ambrosia. When I suck her clit clean, she keens, writhing as she screams my name and comes. Squirting cinnamon bun slick all over my chest—and, I swear to God, if I even grazed my cock right now, I would go off like a firehose.
Jeeeeeesus.
Before I can embarrass myself, I lunge to my feet. Emma doesn’t let me hesitate for even a second—her legs instantly draw me in, notching the head of my cock against her slit.
Gritting my teeth, I pant, “I shouldn’t knot you here. On the counter.”
Emma whines, scrabbling at my hips. “Alpha, please!”
What—am I supposed to say no?