Page 111 of Knight

“Fuck, how can I ever let you go?” He’s faster, his wet balls smacking against me, my ass smacking against him. The water slaps around us, but I don’t need its help. I’m already dripping for Damien, his cock throbbing inside me as our bodies move.

The more I squirm, the more he holds me in place as if he doesn’t want to let me go. Ever. His breath is hot and heavy. His groans and grunts getting more frantic, his thrusts quicker. The room starts to blur, my headache clearing the more he drives his cock inside me. My eyes start to close but he’s quick to stop me, “You know better than that. Eyes on me, Jo. I want to see that face you make when you come on my cock.”

“Fuck, King!” I moan, begging for more.

“Yeah, that one.” He thrusts harder, keeping his pace when he knows I’m almost there. “Fuck, Jo. Say it. You know what I want to hear.”

“Oh my god, I—” His cock hits that spot and I crumble, my body collapsing against him as he holds me up. A hand comes to my chin so I do what he says, eyes on his. He gives me that lusty, hungry look that I’ll never get enough of. Damien King is mine as much as I’m his and what’s a queen without her, “King! I’m yours! So fucking yours!” The words escape my lips as I ride that last wave, my body like a feather, my brain a fuzz. As I reach my climax, he lifts me off with a loud grunt before he’s fisting his cock.

In seconds, he explodes, a burst of creamy goodness dripping down his shaft like a dipped banana and it’s mesmerizing to watch. He stares into my eyes as he blows that load and when a smirk fills my face, one fills his too.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you call me, King.” He leans over, reaching for the towel but I’m staying right here, in his lap. “And I’ll never tire of hearing you say you’re mine. I want the fucking world to hear it and I’ll make you scream it until they do. Now, how’s that head?”

“Better,” I smile, my voice rocky and hoarse, my face beaming from his words. From that orgasm.

“Better now that you trust me?” I look down but he tilts my chin up, those eyes dancing around my face. “I’m going to prove to you that you can, Jo. That’s a promise. And I don’t break my promises. You of all people know that.”

Twenty-Five

“I’m going to eat you alive.”

My hand lands on something hard, and when I pull back the covers, Damien’s gone, a blank canvas in its place. “Damien?” I call, but after waiting a few minutes, there’s no other answer.

Looking over at the canvas I rub my eyes and take in a breath. I don’t hear any sounds coming from the house. It’s quiet, but it’s kind of peaceful. Damien stayed by my side all yesterday, like the last time I almost kicked the bucket. He even picked up Willow to hang, leaving after hours of making sure I’m okay. And when the headache and nausea went away, he went right back where he belongs. Beside me. Inside me.

Thinking about us intertwined together only makes me wish he was here. So where the fuck is he? Rolling my eyes I scratch at my head. God, I’m as obsessed as he is.

Looking over at the canvas, there’s a note attached in messy writing.

Everyone deserves a re-do. We have ours, now here’s yours.

Yours. King.

I don’t quite understand what that means but it’s poetic, a puzzle like always. Seeing the canvas gives me bittersweet feelings since my ship with Clara left a long time ago. While I want to paint, I don’t have the inspiration. Not yet.

My phone vibrates, a buzzing coming from the floor. Damien’s name lights up and I reach over to answer, “So, you’re not here?”

“Can’t get enough of you either, Medusa.” His voice makes me miss him in an instant. “Did you get my message?”

“Yeah, you’re like the fucking riddler.” My head flops against the headrest, my eyes wandering the room. I was wrong about Christian’s feeling like home. This feels so much better.

Another laugh comes from Damien, a clicking in the background that sounds like a car’s indicator. “I didn’t mean for it to be something to decipher. I spoke to Clara.”

“What? About my project?”

“She agreed to give you a do-over.” Sitting up, I pull the phone from my ear to look at it, making sure I’m not dreaming. “Jo?” his voice bellows through.

“How?” Putting the phone by my ear again, I chew on my lip. “Did you threaten her?”

He laughs again but I wasn’t even joking. “No, I told her I did it.”

“What? Won’t you get in trouble?”

He scoffs, “I don’t get in trouble, Rowland. But that’s why I spoke to Beckett. He wanted me to take a suspension to show they don’t play favourites but they do. Told him I’m dropping out anyway.”

“You are? Rich people drop out?”

“To make money they do. I wanna give this thing a shot. See if I can run this entire business.” My fingers graze the canvas while I listen to his words. I’m annoyed he took this into his own hands, and while it’s easy for me to get pissy at him for telling me what to do, I’m fucking grateful. A smile pulls at my lips as I pull the canvas in my lap, staring at it. Crisp. White. Then he reads my mind, “It’s a blank slate.”

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