Because it’s him. It’s Knox. My Knox. My friend has claimed me, he has taken complete and total control of my body, and I’m more than willing to give myself over to this new person inside me if he’ll continue to make me feel this good.
My nails dig hard into Knox’s shoulders as he pulls back and slams into me. Each time is harder and faster than the time before. The pressure deep in my womb grows and intensifies with each thrust. Every possible right spot is being hit, and my body has no choice but to brace for the tsunami wave that’s about to crash down on me.
“Belle.” Knox’s deep, sexy voice invades my ears, pierces my psyche and has its way with every cell in my body, all the way to my core. “You’re mine, Belle. I should’ve made you mine.”
It could’ve always been like this.
A part of me wants to turn that idea over in my mind, to overanalyze his insane statement, but it’s lost in the heated bliss that spreads through me. An orgasm crashes over me in an overpowering wave, stripping me of everything but pleasure. I whimper, melt into nothingness, while my overheated body clings desperately to Knox. We’re covered in sweat as my pleasure consumes me, and again, Knox presses his lips to mine. He swallows up my sounds as he continues to claim me with every jerk of his hips and with each and every inch he buries deep inside me. Soon, his body tenses, and each movement becomes rougher, shaper, deeper until he utters my name on his lips as he comes deep within me.
We remain in that spot, catching our breaths, silent in our bliss for some time. Thoughts begin to return, as does sanity and logic. I’m sure that we were both right. We shouldn’t have taken things this far, but it’s too late. We’ve created a type of bond that shouldn’t exist between us. The urge is strong to cling onto our connection. I want to turn it into something more than a fling. But I know full well that any second now, Knox will pull out of me, throw his clothes on, and walk away, ending absolutely everything.
Disappointment and regret crush me before he can even let me go, but I don’t let it show. I walked into this with my eyes open. It’s a fling, a one-time deal, so this emotional crap is ridiculous.
Knox Steele will never be mine.
He helps me to my feet, and once we’re dressed and looking more or less respectable again, he kisses my forehead.
“Ready to go?” Knox whispers.
I don’t make any attempt to meet his gaze. I don’t want to see the look of finality in those eyes. “Sure. I need to call a cab.”
“That’s not necessary. My driver will get you home.”
“Are you sure?” I ask and he nods. “Okay. Thanks. Let me just freshen up a bit first. I’ll meet you near the front entrance in a few minutes.” I hate lying, but I don’t want to endure a car ride.
“Sounds good, gorgeous. See you there.”
A clean getaway is the only way.
6
Knox
My forearms rest on the crisp white tablecloth at the front corner of Chez Maurice, Pops’ favorite fine dining restaurant. I examine my watch for the fourth time since I walked in, growing more impatient as each second ticks by. Pops is late for the dinner that he practically twisted my arm to show up for. Ungluing my eyes from my timepiece, I stare out the window, fingers tapping on the tabletop as I look for his limo to pull up. There’s no point trying to text him. He’s old school when it comes to handheld technology. I’d be lucky if Morris Steele takes a phone call. But nobody’s perfect, and when it comes to my grandfather, there’s a lot more good to him than anything else.
He left his Long Island home of fifty-plus years and moved into my parent’s home to look after me after they died, opting to give me a sense of stability in a familiar place instead of uprooting me and taking me away from everything and everyone I knew. I’ll always be grateful to him for that. What I’m not too fond of is his intense need to control aspects of my life where no grandfather should have a say over. Relationships, for example. I understand his intentions are good, that he only does it out of love, but I draw the line at that level of meddling.
I clear my throat and drum my fingers against the table. I know it’s rude. I’m just too annoyed to care. Especially as sitting inside some stuffy restaurant waiting for my grandfather to arrive wasn’t my idea.
As I wait, Isabelle enters my thoughts. It’s been a week since she bailed on me after we hooked up at the engagement party. We haven’t seen or heard from each other since, and I don’t blame her. I’ve done more than my share of walking out after a casual fuck session, and for the first time, it’s on me. Which is a damn shame because what we did blows my mind every fucking time I think about it. My dick twitches anytime I picture her against that door. Her face was aglow with desire, eyes snapped shut, moaning that sweet sound each time I pounded into her. Her perfect little body flushed for me, and was so fucking responsive to my every touch, taste and tease. And her tight cunt, wet and so fucking snug around my dick. Fuck. One time with this woman and if I weren’t a stronger man, I’d be addicted. I guess her running out is my karma.
“Knox, my boy. It’s good to see you, son.” My grandfather’s gritty yet cheerful voice carries through the air as he approaches me from the side of the restaurant. The
