Naomi
I was torn from a fitful sleep on the couch by pounding at the front door. Disoriented, I stumbled around the coffee table and tried to remember where I was.
The $20,000 in cash still tucked away in my apron. Nash.
Knox.
Waylay’s first day of school.
No wonder I’d fallen prey to a nap attack.
I opened the door and found a freshly showered Knox standing on the
welcome mat. Waylon trotted inside, wagging his tail. “Hey,” I croaked.
A man of few words, Knox said nothing and stepped over the threshold. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. He looked tense like he was spoiling for a fight. Well, if he’d come here for a fight, he was going to be disappointed. I was too tired to deliver one.
“How’s your brother?” I ventured.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Long recovery ahead. But he’ll be okay. Get Way off to school this morning?”
His brother had been shot, and the man remembered to ask about Waylay’s first day. I didn’t know how to reconcile that with the jerk who yelled at me in front of his own customers. If he could ever settle fully into the thoughtful grump and give up the pissed-off bad boy, he’d make some woman very lucky someday.
“Yeah,” I yawned. “She slept at Liza’s last night since I didn’t get home until late. Liza, Stef, and I made her send-off breakfast there. Stef made chocolate chip pancakes even though I told him spikes in blood sugar make kids tired and unfocused at school.”
I was tired and unfocused, not because of pancakes but because Knox’s edginess made me nervous.
“Uh, speaking of Stef, I think he and Jeremiah might be into each other,” I said, grasping for a topic that would warrant some kind of verbal reaction.
But Knox remained silent as he prowled the tiny living room, looking much too big to belong here. He was a man with a lot of feelings locked up tight. Part of me wanted to crack him open. The other part wanted to just go back to bed and forget everything for a few hours.
“Do you want some coffee? Maybe some alcohol?” I offered, following him as he moved toward the kitchen, his hands clenching into fists only to release again. Over and over again.
I didn’t have any beer, and the hardest alcohol in the house was a cheap rosé I’d been planning to crack open with Sloane. But I could sacrifice it for the guy whose brother had just been shot.
He picked up the pretty yellow leaf on the counter. I’d found it in the lane that morning after walking Waylay to the bus. The temperatures still said summer, but the change to fall was inevitable.
Waylon hopped up on the couch in the living room.
“Make yourself at home,” I told the dog. When I turned to face Knox, he was closing the distance between us.
“Naomi.”
His voice was rough as it caressed the syllables of my name, and then his hands were on me, yanking me into him. His mouth found mine, and I was lost to sensation. Drowning in desire.
Neither of us wanted to want this. Maybe that’s what made it feel so damn good. One hand slid into my hair while the other pressed my lower back until I was flush against him.
“Knox,” I breathed. “This isn’t what you want,” I reminded him. “It’s what I need,” he said before diving back into the kiss.
This wasn’t the kiss from the waiting room. This was different, desperate.
I lost myself in it. Every thought tumbled out of my head until I was nothing but feeling. His mouth was hard and demanding, just like the man. I softened under him. Welcoming him.
He responded by tugging at my hair to angle my head just the way he wanted as he slanted his mouth over mine. His tongue didn’t twine or dance with mine—it battled mine into submission.
He stole my breath, my logic, every reason why this was a terrible idea.
He took them all and made them disappear.
“That’s what I need, baby. I need to feel you go soft under me. Need you to let me have you.”
I couldn’t tell if this was dirty talk or romantic prose. Whichever side of the line his words fell on, I loved it.
His fingers found the strap of my dress. My heartbeat skittered into high gear as he slid the fabric an inch down my shoulder, leaving my skin burning.
He needed this. Me. And I lived to be needed.
I reached for his shirt and slid my hands under the hem, finding the rigid muscle under warm skin.
For once in his life, Knox appeared to be feeling helpful and yanked the shirt over his head with one hand. God, all that skin and muscle and ink. I dragged my nails over his chest, and he growled into my mouth.
Yes, please.
With one deft swipe, he shoved the strap of my dress off my shoulder then did the same to the other one.
“About time I find out what you’ve got on under these dresses,” he murmured.
I sank my teeth into his lower lip and yanked hard on his belt.
I cursed myself for putting on my least s*xy underwear this morning. But at least I hadn’t bothered with a bra this morning. Between uns*xy undies and unshackled boobs, I figured it all evened out.
He lost his jeans at about the same moment my dress slithered down my body and pooled at my ankles.
“Goddammit, baby. I fucking knew it.”
His mouth was on my neck, nibbling and kissing its way south. I shivered. “Knew what?”
“That you’d look like this. That you had a fuck-me body.” He cupped one breast greedily.
He backed me into the fridge, and the cold metal had me yelping. “Knox!”
“I’d apologize, but you know I’m not the least bit sorry,” he said as his tongue darted out to stroke my aching nipple.
I was no longer capable of forming words. I was no longer capable of drawing in a breath. All I could do was cup his erection through his boxer briefs and hang on for dear life. When his lips closed over my nipple and he started to suck, the back of my head hit the fridge. Those deep, decadent pulls echoed all over my body, and I had a feeling he knew it.
He didn’t stop sucking as he shoved his free hand into my uns*xy underwear.
We both moaned when his fingers found me.
“Knew it,” he muttered again as his mouth moved to my other breast. “Knew you’d be wet for me.”
My moan turned into a cry when he parted my slit with two fingers. The man knew what he was doing. There was no fumbling. No wasted, awkward movements. Even driven by need, every touch was magic.
“Need to feel you from the inside,” he said, brushing his beard over my sensitized nipple. When his fingers thrust into me, my knees buckled.
He was too much. Too skilled. Expert-level. Professional ruiner of vaginas. And I didn’t know if I could keep up. When he started moving those amazing fingers, I decided I didn’t care.
His penis flexed in my grip. I clumsily shoved his briefs down, freeing his thick shaft, and gripped it hard.
Knox straightened on a groan and dropped his forehead to mine as we worked each other with eager hands.
“Need you in a bed,” he growled as a drop of moisture leaked over my fingers.
I gripped him harder, stroked faster. “I sure hope you can get us to one because I can’t walk.”
“Damn, baby. Slow the fuck down,” he ordered through gritted teeth.
But I wasn’t listening. I was too busy matching the pump of his fingers inside me.
I gasped when he pulled out of my throbbing core. “Mean!” I hissed against his neck.
But just when my body felt desolate over the loss, he tossed me over his shoulder.
“Knox!”
His only acknowledgment was a resounding slap on my behind. “Which room?” he demanded, taking the stairs two at a time.
I was dizzy with lust and vertigo. “This one,” I managed. In seconds I found myself on my back in bed with the naked Knox ranging himself over me.
“Oh my God. Is this really happening?”
Whoops. I hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud. “Do not come to your senses yet,” he ordered.
“No sense here. Promise.”
He was too busy looking pained to be amused. I couldn’t blame him after I got my first good look at his erection. It was arousing, intimidating. A thick, purple-headed leader in the world of erect penises. I got a little dizzy when Knox fisted it.
I hoped to God he knew how to use it. Few things were more disappointing in this life than a well-endowed man who had no clue how to use his equipment.
Apparently it wasn’t time to find out though, because Knox slid down my body, parting my legs and draping them over his shoulders.
When he pressed his face between my legs, my stomach muscles contracted so hard I worried I’d pulled something. Oh. God. His beard was abrasive between my thighs, and I freaking loved it.
His tongue. For being a man of few words, his tongue was pure magic.
He paired long greedy strokes with short, shallow thrusts. In a matter of seconds, I was ready to come.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I whimpered, gripping his hair. He stopped immediately, earning serious points.
“What’s wrong? You okay?” Concern warred with need in those steely blue-gray eyes.
“This is a one-time thing.” I needed to say it aloud. To remind myself that this was the one and only time I was going to let Knox Morgan make me come.
“One time,” he agreed, still watching me closely. “Final offer.”
“Don’t talk like a game show host when your face is between my legs.” “Don’t ask me to have a conversation when you were just about to come
on my God damn tongue.”
“Point taken,” I said. My insides were actually pulsing with greedy desire. “One-time thing. Make it count.”
“Then you better hang the fuck on.”
It was a good thing I did as he told me because a second or two after my hands wrapped around the brass headboard, he did something magical with his tongue at the same time that he crooked his fingers inside me and my entire body imploded.
I closed so tight around his fingers I worried he was going to need an X- ray. Not worried enough to stop and check, of course. Because I was in the middle of the best orgasm of my life and I had priorities. If I had broken his fingers, he didn’t seem to mind because he just kept right on licking me through my bone-shattering release.
“Still coming. I can feel you,” he said on a groan.
At least, that’s what I thought he said. My ears were ringing like I was in a church bell tower on Sunday morning.
“Gonna need a minute,” I gasped, fighting to get oxygen into my lungs. “Uh-uh. Making it count,” he said from somewhere that sounded very
far away. “Besides, I want to slide my cock in you while you’re still coming.”
“’Kay.”
I heard the distinct crinkle of the wrapper from either a Pop-Tart or a condom. It appeared to be the latter because the wide crest of his erection was prodding at my very core.
He paused long enough to swipe his tongue over each of my breasts before rising up on his knees.
He looked like a vengeful warrior. Tattooed and muscled. His lids heavy, chest heaving. At least I wasn’t the only one having a damn good time, I realized.
It was my last coherent thought before he thrust his hips and buried that long, thick weapon of mass destruction inside me.
Our eyes locked, and his face froze in agonized pleasure and triumph as he hit the very end of me.
I didn’t realize I’d spasmed up into an ab curl until he put one of those big hands on my chest and pressed me back down to the mattress.
“Relax, baby. Relax,” he whispered.
I let out the breath that had been trapped in my lungs and sucked in another. He was so damn big. And he was right—I could feel the tiny little
tremors working my muscles around him.
“You keep milking my dick like that, sweetheart, and this is gonna have to be a two-time thing.”
“Mmmph. Good. Yes.”
He grinned down at me. “So this is what it takes for you to lose that fancy vocabulary of yours.”
“Ugh. Are you gonna talk all day or are you going to move?” I grumbled. The need was already building in me again. I wondered if Knox’s cock was some sort of magical wand that cast orgasm spells, rendering things like rally time and biological requirements non-existent.
“Look at me, Naomi,” he said. I did as I was told.
“Goddammit, you’re beautiful. And so fucking wet for me.” And he was rock hard for me.
That’s when he started to move. Slowly. Languidly. Sweat glistened on his skin. His jaw was set. But his hips pumped like a metronome as he glided in and out of me.
It felt like heaven. But I could tell he was holding himself back, and I wanted to give him everything he needed. Wanted him to take it.
“Don’t be gentle,” I groaned. “Taking my time. Deal with it.”
“Knox, if you get any more blood in that appendage, it’s going to explode.”
“You’ve got an opinion on everything. Even on how I fuck you.” “Especially on how you fuck me.”
He kissed me probably just to shut me up, but I didn’t care because when I hitched my hips higher, his thrusts came faster, went deeper. He was pushing me just past my comfort zone, making me take a little more than I was confident I could handle.
And damn if I didn’t get off on it.
He was giving me what I needed without me having to spell it out for him and break it down. Without me having to ask. Without him saying, “maybe it’s just easier if you do it yourself.”
“Come back to me, Daisy.”
I blinked, and Knox’s face came back into focus, hovering over me and looking serious. “You’re right here when I’m inside you. Nowhere else. Got me?”
I nodded. Embarrassed that I’d nearly gotten lost inside my head. He was right. How many times had I gotten so wrapped up in my plans and lists that I missed what was right in front of me? Or in this case, inside me.
To prove I was with him, I sank my nails into his shoulders and squeezed my muscles around his shaft as he drove deep.
“That’s my girl,” he groaned.
What we were doing felt so good. So right.
His chest hair tickled my puckered nipples as my heels dug into those perfect ass cheeks of his. Another orgasm was already starting to build.
It felt otherworldly good.
He felt it too. His thrusts were harder now, less controlled, and I wanted more.
“Can’t decide how I want you,” he confessed through gritted teeth. “Thought about too many ways.”
“You have?” I breathed, trying to sound surprised like I didn’t have a regular fantasy of him banging me bent over the pool table at Honky Tonk.
He nipped at my bottom lip. “Up against a wall in my office. My hand over your mouth so no one can hear me making you come. You riding me in my truck. These perfect tits in my face so I can suck you while I fuck you. On your hands and knees looking over your shoulder while I work you from behind.”
Okay, those were pretty good.
My breasts felt heavy, swollen. Every nerve ending in my body was lighting up. And those ab muscles I thought I’d torn with my first orgasm were tensing again.
“Fuck, baby. You just keep getting tighter.”
I could feel every vein, every ridge, every inch of his arousal as he drove into me. Again and again, he rammed himself home. Euphoria filled my head like a fog.
His muscles were taut under my fingers. We were both shaking. I was going to come with him inside me and never be the same again. He forced a hand between us and cupped my breast, my greedy nipple pebbling against his palm.
“Take it all, baby.”
And I did, opening as wide as I could and holding on for dear life as he drove me over the edge.
He didn’t ease me into the orgasm—he detonated it. It shot through me like high voltage, making me tremble from head to toe. I buried my face in his neck and screamed.
“Ah, fuck. Fuck!”
I opened my eyes to find him powering into me, eyes half-closed. All vestiges of control snapped.
I felt his erection swell inside me as he grunted on the next thrust and the next. I was still coming when he jerked inside me, letting out a guttural shout of triumph. He buried himself deep and held there. Our bodies aligned, releases synchronizing. With every wrenching pulse of his erection, my muscles gripped him tighter.
“Naomi,” he growled into my neck as we rode it out together. Hearts pounding as one.
