Page 39 of Knot in the Wedding Cards

The words, the friction, and the overwhelming scent of us together—it’s too much and yet the perfect blissful concoction to send me over the edge.

I shatter again, harder this time, vision whiting out as my walls spasm around his thick length. He fucks me through it, pace faltering but not stopping.

When I come down, he pulls out abruptly. I whine at the loss, but he’s already turning me around, lifting me.

My back hits the mirror wall again as he hooks my legs around his waist. This time when he enters me, it’s smoother, deeper, gravity helping him sink all the way to the hilt.

“Look at me,” he demands.

Our eyes lock. Hazel on stormy gray. He kisses me as he starts moving again, slower now, savoring. Each roll of his hips grinds against my clit. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. My hips rock to meet his thrusts, chasing another peak.

The elevator air is heavy with our combined scents—his dominant Alpha notes wrapping protectively around my sweet Omega perfume.

It feels like coming home and like falling all at once.

He shifts his grip, one hand under my ass, the other braced on the wall beside my head. The new angle lets him hit even deeper. I cry out with every thrust, the sound bouncing off the mirrors.

“Beck— I’m close again?—”

“Good girl. Give me one more.” His thumb finds my clit again, pressing firmly, which is such a flex when he’s using his other hand to keep me up so I’m not having to concentrate on fully clinging to him. “Come on, Sweet Apricot. Soak my cock.”

I break apart with a wail, body seizing around him.

This orgasm is longer, deeper, with waves of pleasure that seem to go on forever. My vision blurs. Somewhere in the haze, I feel him stiffen, hips stuttering as he follows me over the edge.

He buries his face in my neck as he comes, thick pulses of heat flooding me. The knot at the base of his cock begins to swell, and how he curses, needing to pull out for our own sanity, but I’m doing my duty in taming that thick knot of a beast, trying not to feel some sort of disappointment that we can’t lock right here and now.

It’s fine…the wedding is approaching.

I massage his knot until it deflates, leaving us breathless before he kisses me long and hard, making me feel as if I’m such a precious existence in his life.

“We should probably figure out how to get this thing moving again before someone calls maintenance.”

I laugh softly, the sound shaky with emotion.

“Probably. Though I’m not sure my legs work yet.”

He chuckles, the vibration traveling through where we’re still connected.

“I’ve got you.”

Slowly, carefully, he lowers me until my feet touch the floor, supporting my weight as his knot deflates enough to slip free.

Slick and his release trickle down my thighs.

He grabs my discarded panties and uses them to gently clean me up, then tucks them into his pocket with a wicked little smirk.

“Souvenir,” he says.

I roll my eyes but can’t hide my smile.

The memory is gone just as the elevator dings upon arrival, and I’m pressing my thighs together, angered that such a vivid memory could still affect me as if the man I once fucked beautifully in the metal box, who was excited to be my husband, is the same person standing in the corner as if my existence now threatens his.

How pathetic of me to remember what’s already broken…

Maybe it hurts because here I am, feeling needy and desperate for the man who’d aid in my every need like the fixer-upper he is, while he’s acting like this brief presence together means nothing to him.

What are you doing, Amber? This man left you at the altar. Yet, you’re hot and bothered for him because he’s in your damn orbit. Stop this nonsense.