Page 58 of Pose for Me

Another whimper escapes my parted lips as River's teeth graze my earlobe with delicious pressure and he tugs on my hair again. "I know it wouldn't matter who we killed," he whispers darkly. "Like that man in the alleyway that thought he could touch what didn’t belong to him. I could see it in your eyes—watching me kill him, watching the life drain from his body...it didn't horrify you. It turned you on."

His words send a molten wave of arousal crashing through me. He's right—none of this repulses me. Quite the opposite. My soul resonates with that same primal darkness, that willingness to do whatever it takes.

River's hand tightens in my hair, tugging my head back to expose the long column of my throat. Knox shifts closer, the heat of his body searing me even through the thin fabric of my dress. His lips brush against my bared neck, teeth grazing my thundering pulse.

"You're ours, Rayne," Knox growls against my skin. "Your soul, your body, your very existence—it all belongs to us and always has. We'll worship every inch of you, cherish you in a way no one else ever could."

Knox's hand slides possessively down my body as he steps away, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I lean back into River's solid embrace, seeking solace from the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. His arms tighten around my waist, anchoring me.

An alert chimes loudly from my computer, the unexpected sound making me jump. I nearly groan at the interruption, desperate to remain lost in this heated moment with Knox and River. Their touches, their words—they've unraveled me in the most delicious way.

I try to step out from between them, to deal with whatever message or notification has intruded on our moment. But River merely tightens his grip, refusing to let me go. His lips trail scorching kisses down the side of my neck as he murmurs, "Ignore it. Nothing is more important than this. Than us."

Knox, however, moves towards my computer with a predatory grace. He leans over the desk, fingers flying across the keyboard and mouse. There's a slight furrow in his brow as he navigates to the source of the alert.

It doesn't concern me much at first—I assume it's simply an automated news alert about the ongoing serial killer case. Those pop up frequently in the corner of my screen, whenever it’s mentioned in any news.

The sound of Knox's sharp inhale cuts through the sensual haze clouding my mind. Instantly, I'm on high alert, adrenaline spiking through my veins.

"What is it?" I ask, trying to move around River to get a better view of the computer screen. But he holds me firmly in place, his arms like steel bands around my waist.

Knox doesn't answer right away. His jaw is clenched so tightly I fear he might crack a tooth. The tendons in his neck stand out in harsh relief as his eyes rapidly scan whatever he's seeing on the display.

Then, with a harsh exhale, he spins the monitor around so I can see.

My breath catches in my throat as I take in the image filling the screen. It's one of the photos from the session with Knox and River—the three of us tangled together in the throes of passion. Sweat-slicked limbs, expressions of rapturous pleasure, the evidence of our joining glistening between our bodies. It's an incredibly private, deeply intimate moment, captured forever in vivid digital detail.

Except it's not just the image itself that has dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. Scrawled across it in jagged, angry red text are the words: YOU'RE MINE. THEY ARE ALREADY DEAD, THEY JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET.

A choked sound escapes my lips as the weight of the threat sinks in. This psychopath, this deranged stalker, has somehow gained access to files that were stored on my secure drive.

Knox's jaw tightens as he stares at the vile message scrawled across one of our most intimate moments. A muscle ticks in his chiseled jaw, betraying the barely leashed fury simmering beneath his controlled exterior.

With a harsh exhale, he pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs flying across the screen. A look of grim determination settles over his features as he raises the device to his ear.

"It's me," he growls into the phone, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the tense air of the studio. "We have a situation. I need you to trace an email address for me, now."

A pause, during which I can almost picture the person on the other end scrambling to comply with Knox's terse demand. His free hand clenches into a white-knuckled fist at his side, tendons standing out in stark relief.

Knox's voice drops lower, a hint of exasperation creeping in. "No, I can't give you direct access to the computer or the email itself. We just need you to trace who the account belongs to." He pauses, listening to the response on the other end.

"Yes, I know it's not as simple as it sounds," Knox growls, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes flick to me for a moment before returning to the screen. "Look, I don't care what methods you have to use. Legal, illegal, borderline–I don't give a fuck. Just get me a name or an address."

There's another pause as Knox listens, his jaw clenching tighter with each passing second. "No, I'm not going to tell you why it's so urgent. But I promise this one's worth your while. It's... personal."

Suddenly, his expression shifts, a hint of amusement breaking through the tension. "Oh, don't give me that bullshit. You love a challenge." He chuckles, the sound low and rich. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're a delicate flower who needs constant praise and validation."

Despite the gravity of the situation, I feel a sharp pang of jealousy. Who is this person on the other end of the line that can make Knox laugh so easily in the midst of such a tense moment?

"Don't get your panties in a twist, gorgeous," River purrs, his lips brushing my sensitized skin. "That's just Zeke, our off-the-books IT contact. Useful for situations like this where we need to keep things...discreet."

His tongue darts out, tracing the delicate shell of my ear in a slow, maddening circle. "You know Knox would never look at another woman, right? Not when he's got you—a delicious little morsel to devour whenever he pleases."

Knox hums for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listens intently to the person on the other end of the line. "Thank you," he says finally, his voice low and gravelly. "I owe you one." With that, he ends the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket with a smooth, practiced motion.

Both River and I watch intently as Knox stalks towards us, his movements fluid and predatory. Each step is measured, purposeful, like a lion approaching its prey. The air around him seems to crackle with tension and barely leashed energy.

When he reaches us, Knox cradles my face in his large, warm hands. His calloused palms are rough against my skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his touch. He leans in, capturing my lips in a slow, deep kiss that makes my toes curl and my heart race. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, demanding entry, and I yield to him willingly, melting into his embrace.

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