Page 28 of Knot the Stray

A minute later, she pushes through the swinging door into the lobby. Her shoulders slump. Exhaustion radiates from every line of her posture.

She stops in her tracks, taking in the state of the front room.

Her gaze travels from the floor to the notes on the reception desk and then to me. She blinks a few times before a slow smile tugs at the corner of her lips. The realization washes over her face. A profound sense of gratitude replaces the exhaustion in her dark eyes. The tough, guarded professional mask drops.

A sudden spike in her sweet vanilla and toasted sugar scent hits my nose. The aroma flares with potent, undeniable arousal. The rich scent coats the back of my throat, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.

She crosses the room, stopping mere inches from my chest. She tips her head back to meet my gaze.

“I need a shower.” Her voice drops to a soft, needy whisper. “I need to scrub the clinic off my skin.”

“Let’s head upstairs.” I reach out, brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “You can wash up, and I can get dinner warmed up.”

We walk up the wooden stairs side by side, our boots thudding against the steps. I push the door to her studio apartment open, letting her step inside first. She heads straight for the bathroom to start the shower. I walk over to the refrigerator. I pull the cold aluminum takeout containers from the shelf and peel off the cardboard covers. Twisting the dial on the oven to a low heat, I slide the pasta and garlic bread onto the metal rack to warm up. I move a stack of veterinary journals off the small kitchen table to clear a spot.

Winston, the tuxedo cat, weaves between my ankles, demanding his own meal. He spent our first few visits hiding under the sofa, terrified of us. Now, the little guy expects tribute the second we walk through the door. I grab a tin of wet food from the counter, pop the aluminum tab, and scoop the pate into his ceramic dish in the corner. He purrs loud in the quiet room, digging right into his dinner.

I pull the warm foil containers from the oven, twist the dial to off, and set the food on the small kitchen table. I kick off my scuffed work boots, pull off my socks, and take a seat on the edge of the mattress. Watching her command that chaotic clinic tonight gave me a huge rush. I love seeing her in her element, and knowing I took some of the stress off her shoulders brings a deep sense of satisfaction.

The bathroom door opens a few minutes later. Plumes of warm steam roll out into the studio, carrying the scent of fresh soap. Jessie steps into the light, wearing nothing at all. My breath catches in my throat. Every ounce of blood rushes south, pooling straight into my cock. Drops of moisture cling to her collarbone, highlighting the flushed, pink heat of her skin from the hot water.

Her clean scent mixes with that natural, intoxicating aroma of vanilla and toasted sugar. As she crosses the floor, her hips sway with deliberate intent. She keeps her dark eyes locked right on mine, a confident spark lighting up her expression.

Stepping right between my spread knees, she forces me to look up at her gorgeous face. She reaches down to cup my jaw in her hands, pulling me into a deep, lingering kiss. Her tongue sweeps past my lips. We spend several minutes exploring each other.

Breaking the kiss, she pulls back just a fraction of an inch to catch her breath.

“You look incredible.” I press the words against her damp lips, wrapping my arms around her narrow waist to pull her flush against my chest. “I’m all yours tonight.”

“Then lie back and let me work.” A wicked smirk touches her lips.

Her hands move down to my chest, working the small buttons of my shirt to push the fabric off my broad shoulders. Nudging my chest, she guides my back onto the mattress. I go without a fight, letting her dictate the pace and call the shots. Watching her take control makes my heart pound a frantic beat against my ribs.

Desperate to get skin-to-skin, she sheds the rest of my clothes in a rush. Her quick fingers unbuckle my leather belt, pull down the zipper, and toss my jeans and boxers onto the floor in a messy pile. My thick cock springs free, twitching hard against my stomach. A drop of clear pre-come gleams at the tip.

“So eager.” She traces the hot head of my dick with her thumb, dropping to her knees at the edge of the mattress.

“You make me crazy, Jess.”

Wrapping her fingers around the base of my shaft, she squeezes the thick girth. The knot begins to swell under the skin, a firm bulb pushing against her grip. She presses her thumb into the expanding tissue, teasing the sensitive spot. She leans forward and takes me into her warm mouth. The wet heat sends a shock of electricity straight down my spine. Bobbing her head, she works her lips over the thick ridge with a firm, demanding suction. The mind-blowing, eager blowjob drives me wild. Swirling her tongue right below the head, she coaxes another rough groan from my throat.

I tangle my fingers in her damp hair, gripping the dark strands to hold her steady for several agonizing minutes. The pleasure builds fast, winding a tight coil of tension low in my gut. I want to savor her, but the friction pushes me too close to the edge.

“Get up here.” I grit my teeth, my vision blurring. “I need you.”

Jessie pulls off my dick with a wet pop. Crawling up my thighs with feline grace, she straddles my waist and hovers over my aching erection. She takes her time, rubbing her sensitive clit up and down the thick shaft of my cock. The slick wetness from her core coats my skin, providing the perfect natural lube.

“You’re so wet for me.” I rest my hands on her hips, a low groan escaping my lips.

Aligning my tip with her slick entrance, she sinks down and takes my entire length in one smooth, breathtaking glide. A breathless moan escapes her lips, a sweet sound that fuels my fire.

“Fuck, Edward.” She rides me hard and fast.

Her hips snap down in a desperate, demanding rhythm. The mattress springs squeak loudly in the quiet studio, the metal straining under our frantic pace. Our skin slaps together, a rhythmic sound echoing off the vintage wallpaper. I grip her hips, guiding her downstroke to ensure she takes every inch of me. Her breasts bounce with the force of her movements, her tight nipples flushed with arousal.

Her inner walls clamp around my dick, stretching to accommodate my width. The friction is insane. I let her dictate the frantic pace until the tension in my gut crests into a giant wave. The thick knot at the base of my dick swells to its full size, a hard bulb aching for release. My instincts scream to claim her, to finish the job and mark her as mine.

Taking charge, I grip her hips tightly. Rolling our bodies over in one fluid motion, I pin her back against the mattress. I settle my weight between her spread thighs, caging her beneath me. Now on top, I set a deep, relentless pace. I drive my hips forward, bottoming out against her cervix with every thrust. Keeping my swollen knot outside her body requires strict mental control.