Page 18 of Knuckles

She bit her lip nervously and I saw the pulse at her neck speed up, fluttering under her delicate skin. “I didn’t say that.” There was a hint of a smile on her face, but I saw the uncertainty also.

“Not sure you had to say it. Your meaning was pretty clear.” I leaned in closer, giving her plenty of time to push me away.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Then what are you waiting for? If you want to count a second kiss, it’s gotta be a real one.”

“My fuckin’ pleasure.”

Chapter Eight

Hannah

What was I doing? This was the worst idea in the history of ideas! Why the hell had I basically dared Knuckles to kiss me with feeling? There was no way I could handle a man like Knuckles in a sexual situation. Not like this. Not when he had me tied up in knots just being near him.

He threaded his fingers through my hair, cradling the back of my head in his big hand. A low growl from him made me shiver. There was no fear or dread, or anything other than an intense lust so strong I needed to scream.

His lips moved over mine in an aggressive glide, his tongue slipping into my mouth with a hunger I knew all too well.

My body responded instantly, heat pooling between my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer. I needed his massive body nearer to me. Imprinting on me. I wanted to feel his heavy weight pinning me down when that was never a position I’d assumed willingly. I wanted it with this man. And I had no Goddamned idea why he appealed to me so fucking much!

I melted against him, my body responding without my permission. His taste was intoxicating -- whiskey and sin and something uniquely Knuckles. He was overwhelming in the best way possible.

I’d given myself to men who weren’t nearly as big and aggressive as Knuckles. Men who were rotten to their core. For me, sex had never been about pleasure. Not since that first time, and that situation had turned from pleasant to terrifying in the space of a heartbeat. But this…

I had nothing to compare with the sensations coursing through me from this kiss. I felt like I’d been waiting for this my entire life. Maybe I had. His beard scratched against my skin as he deepened the kiss and I found myself clutching at his shoulders, digging my fingers into the solid muscles there.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide.

“That real enough for you?” His voice was rough, gravelly. I expected him to smirk at me, to know how he’d affected me and make fun of my inexperience, but that wasn’t the look he gave me. There was smoldering intensity. And I could most definitely feel his cock pressed against my pussy through our clothes.

I couldn’t speak, could barely think. All I could do was nod, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.

“Good,” he murmured, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “Because I’m just getting started.”

He lifted me off the counter in one fluid motion, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist to lock my ankles as he carried me across the small studio to the bed in the corner.

He laid me down with surprising gentleness, his large body covering mine as he settled between my thighs. The weight of him should have been terrifying, but instead it felt like an anchor, grounding me in the moment.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “No questions asked.”

I shivered. This time there wasn’t an ounce of fear. I wanted this. Everything Knuckles was willing to give to me, I fucking wanted. “Don’t stop,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

His answering smile was predatory, sending another wave of heat through me. He lowered his head, trailing kisses along my jaw, down my neck, pausing to nip at my collarbone. I gasped, arching into him.

“I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you at the clubhouse,” he confessed against my skin. “Knew it was wrong. Knew Gunnar would have my balls. Didn’t fuckin’ care. Still don’t.” The mattress dipped under his weight as he positioned himself above me, arms braced on either side of my head.

The intensity in his eyes made me shiver. This wasn’t just about sex for him; I could see that now. There was something possessive, something primal in the way he looked at me. Like he was claiming more than just my body. His mouth crashed down on mine again, hungrier this time, more demanding.

His beard abraded my skin as he moved from my mouth to my cheeks, then down my neck to my collarbone. Then he inhaled deeply, like he was trying to take my scent deep inside him where he’d never be rid of me. I was woman enough to admit I loved that thought.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered against my skin, his voice rough with want. “I knew you’d be responsive, but this…” His hand slid under my shirt, his calloused palm hot against my stomach.

“Take it off,” I demanded, surprising myself with my boldness. “I want to feel you against me.”

He pulled back just enough to search my face, his eyes dark with desire but also questioning. “You sure about this, Hannah? We can go as slow as you need to.”

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