CHAPTER 7

 

 

London

 

 

 

My hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, my teeth are brushed, and I slip on an oversized tank top and sleep shorts. My phone pings as I pull the shirt over my head. It’s a text message from Knox.

Knox: What’s UR room

Me: 715

I stare at my phone, but he doesn’t text back. Strange, maybe, but not all that surprising, either. Knox likes to know what’s going on, but he doesn’t waste time with chitchat.

Heading back into the bathroom to remove my makeup, there’s a knock at the door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s probably Knox, and so I open the door without thinking.

His eyes flare, but then he just stares. “Let me in?”

I blink. I’m dressed. I mean, everything’s covered, but the neckline of my top is a little low, the underarms are cut a little deep, and the shorts are a little…well, short. Still, we’re both adults, and it’s not completely inappropriate. He can see way more on any beach in the country.

Besides, I have seen his cock.

“Sure.”

I step back, and he brushes past me. Automatically, I lock the door. It’s something I always do in a hotel. When I turn, Knox is standing just behind me.

“Knox?” I say, but there’s no time for other words when his mouth crashes down onto mine.

Surprise lasts only a second before absolute sensation takes over—and why not? I’ve been lusting for Knox since I first saw him. His mouth is hot, his lips are demanding, and his tongue plunges forward to steal past my gasp. He’s deep in my mouth, licking his way all around, and I can’t help myself. I suck on his tongue, and it earns me a growl deep from his throat.

He bites my bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth, and then soothes it with his tongue. I moan as sensation races through me, tightening my nipples, and sending a sharp surge of pure lightning deep to my core. I’m wet, completely so.

How can he do that with no more than a kiss?

He shoves his hands into my hair and pushes me back against the door. He holds me still, his eyes flashing a stormy gray, and I can’t look away. I can only stare and try, with the ragged bits of mind available to me, to decipher whatever is going on behind that dangerous, passionate face.

I reach for him, to do…what? Something. I don’t know; I can’t think straight. I’m only sure that I need to touch him. The chance never comes, because he grabs my hands and jerks them up over my head. He clenches both wrists in one fist, while his other hand splays wide over the plane of the door, next to my head.

“You touch me, and I’m gonna fuck you.” The words are like a harsh bite through the air, and he doesn’t blink as he says them.

I swallow, barely able to breathe. “I thought you didn’t fuck employees.”

His eyes darken. “I’ll make an exception.”

This is it. A moment of truth. The moment of truth? I don’t know how far-reaching this truth goes, but I’m sure I have a choice to make.

How can I be sure which is the right one? And do I really give a damn if one of them means that Knox will do exactly what I pray he will?

My mouth is suddenly dry, and I run my tongue over my lips. Knox’s eyes flare and he lets out a soft grunt. “What if I want to touch you?” I whisper and lean my head forward. It’s the only part I can move easily, and I stroke my tongue over his bottom lip. “What if I want you to fuck me?”

His hips slam against me at the same moment his open mouth smashes over mine. His kisses overpower me almost immediately, deep and wet like he’s going to eat me whole. I don’t care. I want that—and more. Sweet baby Jesus, so much more. Especially when I feel the ridge of his very large, very hard cock press firmly against me.

He licks his way from my mouth to my jaw, my throat, my collar bone. I gasp and squirm in his hold, but he doesn’t release my hands. Instead, he leans down to take one breast in his mouth, tank top and all. He sucks me deep, brings my nipple to almost painful hardness from the mixed abrasion of his tongue and the interfering cotton fabric, while his free hand shoves its way beneath the waistband of my sleep shorts.

I don’t have the attention span to be embarrassed because he’ll find me wet and aching. I can’t hold back the gasp of pleasure as his callused fingers slide through the slickness, stroking over my lower lips, and avoiding my clit with a teasing game of hide and seek. I don’t mean to push my pussy against his hand, but I do all the same. Again and again. He lets out a satisfied chuckle and then bites the crest of my breast as he does it again.

“Knox,” I groan. Asking…begging, encouraging? I can’t be sure, and what does it matter? They’re all the same, because I can only be sure that I need his touch like the air that I breathe.

Like nothing else I’ve ever wanted in my whole damn life.

He bites my other breast while he slips one finger deep within me. A guttural sound comes from deep in my throat—I have no knowledge of it before it echoes between us—and I shove myself against him again. He pulls back just enough to drag the pads of his fingers over me and then shove two inside. That same needy sound escapes my throat, and then he moves them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm.

I flex with his shifting hand, unable to stop myself. It’s been so long since a man touched me with any sort of attraction. Lust. Physical need. Whatever. Colin was too tidy, too reserved, to show that much emotion, even when he was in the throes of passion. He never really went after what he wanted, and any orgasm I had was purely accidental on his part.

This…Jesus, this is different. Knox is focused totally on me. I can feel it in the way he licks and bites my tits, not caring if the fabric of my tank top is in the way. The way he teases his way around my clit. The way he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy, as though he can think of nothing else.

I find myself up on my tiptoes as he fucks me with his hand, and I lose my breath. “Knox.” I try to say his name, but I don’t think he can hear me. Or maybe he can, because he brings his mouth back to mine and slips his tongue deep as I pant. I want to bring my tongue to life, stroke his, caress the ridges of his teeth, but all I can do is suck him deep and groan again.

Knox growls deep and then his thumb strokes boldly over my clit. Again. His fingers move faster, go deeper, and his other hand tightens around my wrists. My hips flex against him, and I’m vaguely aware that I’m trying to find that place of release. Orgasm. What a thin, non-descriptive word for what I want. So much more than that waits beyond the lure of Knox’s touch, his kiss.

He drags his fingers from me, stroking hard over my clit, and I jerk. For a moment, his hand is gone, and then I feel the loss of my sleep shorts as he pushes them down over my hips. I wiggle enough to get them to my ankles, where I can get at least one leg free. A metallic sound comes from far away. It should mean something, I suppose, but how can I concentrate when Knox’s mouth, tongue and lips seduce me, devour me, drag me deeper under his spell? A very distant part of me knows I’ve lost complete control of myself, but I really don’t give a bloody goddamn.

This man is doing things to me and my body that I’ve only ever fantasized about!

Knox shifts against me, and then his hand is back at my hip, my thigh. He brings my leg up, curls it around his waist—his very naked waist—and I follow with the other leg. My shoulders and back press against the solid wood of the door, while the rest of me wraps around him. I know damn well my pussy is exposed to his cock.

He releases my mouth just long enough to move, and then I feel the head of his dick press against my soaking entrance. He pushes in just a enough to remind me just how big he really is, and then he shoves all the way in until his pelvis rests solidly between my legs.

I groan, or would if I had any breath left. All I’m really sure of is that Knox is inside me, stretching me, and the friction as he pulls out drives me insane. He snaps his hip forward, he’s deep inside me again, and I feel myself tighten around him.

“Knox.”

His mouth is on mine again, his tongue plunging deep, just like his cock, and I’m so bloody full of him, I can’t tell where I stop and he starts. I bite his tongue, hoping he’ll understand what I can’t say.

Harder. Deeper. Faster.

He does, if the powerful thrust of his hips is any indication. I feel him drive against my cervix, a mix of pleasure and pain I’ve never experienced before. Never had a man built like him before. A man who knows how to strum my body like he owns it.

Jesus.

It’s like I’m outside of myself, unable to control my actions, reactions or emotions. I’m only distantly aware of anything so rational. One second I’m caught in a building maelstrom of something I’ve never experienced before, and the next I’m soaring, screaming Knox’s name, my arms and legs trembling, and yet completely unable to move. My head and shoulders grind back against the door, and my hips are thrust forward to seal my crotch against his. It goes on and on, white lights flashing behind my eyelids, and tremors tighten the walls of my pussy around his cock.

“Oh, fuck, English,” he grunts against my mouth and keeps moving.

I try to catch my breath, but the orgasm doesn’t stop. It goes on and on and then builds again.

“Knox,” I breathe when he finally releases my mouth. “Oh, Jesus, it won’t stop! You’re gonna make me come again!”

“That’s it, baby.” He dips his head to bite my neck. “Give it to me. Come all over my cock.”

I don’t know if it’s his words or the hard flex of his hips. His dick shoves up against my cervix again, and the sharp pain of it sends me back over the edge of sensation that never really stopped. I’m lost and can only cling to Knox with my legs around his waist.

He strokes again, that same frantic rhythm, and I hear a hitch in his breathing. Satisfaction sharpens my physical reactions to the point that I’m all nerve endings. He’s on the verge of orgasm. With me.

For me.

“C’mon, baby,” I mutter, my lips against his hair. His teeth close over the place where my neck meets my shoulder, and I feel the sharp sting of the bite as he suckles on my flesh. “You’re close,” I pant and tighten my pussy around his cock. “I can feel it.” I do it again. “You wanna come, baby? Do it.”

He growls against my shoulder.

“Do it!” I urge again, and then he slams into me with enough force to rattle the door.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, English!” He keeps moving like he can’t stop, and I feel the surge of his cock inside of me. Pulsing. Releasing.

Giving me exactly what I asked for.

 



 

I’m vaguely aware of moving—being carried—and then I’m laid out on the bed. Knox follows me down, but only after pulling my tank top over my head.

“Jesus, English, you have gorgeous tits!”

“What?”

I can’t really think beyond the vague question. I shift against him, seeking his physical warmth. Or some kind of connection. Instead, I find the barrier of fabric.

He’s still dressed.

I blink and try to sharpen my gaze on him. He lost his suitcoat somewhere, and his tie is loosened but still in place. Beneath that, his gray shirt is still buttoned which, under the circumstances, looks far too orderly.

A short breath of disbelief shoots from my lungs. “Oh, no. No way.”

“What?” It’s his turn to ask.

I moisten my lips and shake my head. “You just fucked me to within an inch of my life, and you’re still dressed?”

His eyes flare, darkening to more gray than green. “You gonna do something about it, English?”

“Oh, yeah.”

One of my arms is pinned beneath him, but I can maneuver the other one just fine. I unfasten the top button with an ease that surprises me, and then I move down to the next. The next. And again, until my fingers become clumsy from working one-handed. Or maybe the buttons just get harder to manage as they get closer to his waist. I can’t tell for sure—and Knox doesn’t do a damn thing.

“You could help, you know.” I peek up at him through lowered lashes as I concentrate. “This would go a lot faster.”

He moves then, so fast I don’t realize his intent until he’s on his knees. He tears open the rest of the shirt front, and buttons fly across the room. I can’t help smiling as he jerks the thing off and throws it across the room. His tie still drapes loosely around his neck.

“That better, English?”

I push up to a half-sitting position and rest one hand over the Celtic cross tattoo on his pec. I want to trace it with my fingers and tongue, ask him about it, take in all the detail, understand this small part of him…but not now! My core tightens, my breasts feel heavy, my nipples ache, and I can only think about the splendor of his broad, muscled chest and those amazing six-pack abs that guard his happy trail.

“Almost,” I mutter breathlessly as my hand falls to the waistband of his dress pants. Odd how I continue to find myself moving without thinking about what I’m doing, but right now, I can’t bring myself to care all that much about it, either.

Seconds later a piece of reality strikes me. I catch his eyes and just stare. “You didn’t even take your bloody pants off?”

One corner of his mouth quirks. “You didn’t notice until now?”

I close one eye, tilt my head down, and take a breath. “Touché.”

I drop my gaze and find the button undone, zipper down, and his dick proudly exposed. Not completely hard now, but at least semi-erect again. Or still? I’m not sure, and then it moves with my continued stare.

“Bollocks,” I whisper to myself. “No wonder you poked against my cervix.”

“What?” It seems an off-hand question, maybe even automatic, as he wriggles to shift around and shove his trousers farther toward his ankles. A moment later he kicks the whole mess from his feet, including his shoes and socks.

Holy Christ, he looks even bigger without the backdrop of his pants to conceal anything.

I swallow. “When you went deep…” I have to pause, suddenly a little embarrassed to find myself saying the words. I’ve never once in my life had a particularly frank discussion with a lover. Certainly not with Colin.

“What?” He leans forward, his attention fully on me again, and brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “What happens when I go deep, baby?”

“You…go all the way…to my…cervix.”

Please, don’t blush! Please, God, not now.

Knox’s expression reveals nothing other than a flicker in his eyes that conceals more than it reveals. He drops his hand to splay over my tummy. “Did it hurt?”

I nod once. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

I’m a little amazed as I watch my hand reach out to push a strand of dark hair back from his eyes. It’s mostly to delay having to say anything, but I’m a little surprised by the bravery of making such a seemingly tender gesture. Maybe I was joking when I called Knox a cocky rock god, but it’s true—and he’s so far out of my league. He’s an amazing man, an amazing talent, and he’s so bloody hot.

So how in the hell could he have wanted to fuck me so bad that he took me against the freaking door without taking his pants off? And now that he has—we have—why can’t I be more sophisticated about it? I’m almost 23 bloody years old and shouldn’t be so awkward when talking about this stuff. Just because nothing was open for discussion in my so-called family—ever—doesn’t mean I have to carry that fucked up habit into my adulthood.

“English?” he prompts me.

“Uh…well, yeah, there was a sharp pain. At first. But then—” I grin in spite of myself “—once I came, it was like my orgasm just kept going. Every time you smacked up against my cervix, things…intensified.”

I blink and give him a look that feels kind of shy, and I suppose it is. This kind of raw honesty is new territory for me. “I’m not sure if I came three times,” I add softly, amazed by the memory, “or if it was one long orgasm that just kept starting over.”

“That never happened to you before?” He looks kind of smug.

“Uh, no.” I shake my head sharply. “Don’t think it happens to most women. But then…I’ve never been with a guy who’s built like you.”

He glances down at his chest. “Built like me?”

I laugh. “Wanker. You know what I mean.” I point. “Your cock is…impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“No, baby. Not at all.” He leans forward to drop a quick kiss on my lips. He licks his way over my jaw, my throat, between my breasts, past my belly button to stop just above my pussy. I’ve trimmed it to a small, tidy V that he gives a quick kiss. “I know my dick is bigger than a lot of guys,” he adds with another kiss and peers up at me through lashes that are unfairly long. “I use it to my advantage.”

“I’ll bet you do,” I gasp as his tongue traces the perimeter of my V.

Knox chuckles and darts his tongue lower, coming closer and closer to my clit, until finally he swipes a line over my seam upward and then back down again. “You taste good, baby,” he mutters as he does it again.

“That’s us,” I murmur, because I can’t really speak—or think for that matter. “You and me.”

“What?” He pulls back suddenly and pushes up on his forearms. “What did you say?”

I stare at him, at the hair that’s mostly come loose from his ponytail and hangs down around his face. It keeps me from getting a clear view of his face. “That’s us,” I repeat slowly, the relaxed satisfaction that’s kept me in a sensual web beginning to dissipate. I swallow. “Why?”

“Motherfucker!”

Knox is up and standing next to the bed before I realize he’s moving. He shoves his hair away from his face and grips the back of his neck with one hand. His chest heaves as he breathes.

“Knox?” It’s barely more than a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” He closes his eyes and then drops a fierce glare on me. “Wrong?” he repeats. “What the fuck could be wrong? We just fucked without protection! I forgot to use a goddamn condom!”