Chapter 6 Octavia #4
Ignoring her, me, and Cody’s laughter, Knight keeps walking, his huge body beneath me calm and relaxed while I squirm and kick. “Knight, you fucking asshole, put me down.”
Not reacting in any way or even pausing in his stride, Knight walks us to the ATV, then lowers me into the seat. The moment I’m not hanging from his shoulder, I start to fight.
Throwing my arms, I shove at him, trying to push my way out of the seat and away from him. Instead of getting free, I end up tightly restrained beneath the harness that Knight continues to tighten, until the straps are pressed firmly against my nipples and around my waist.
“If you release that harness, I’ll bend you over this ATV and spank your buttocks bright red,” Knight threatens calmly, his eyes steely enough that, despite how placid he looks, I know he’s not making an empty threat.
“When we get back to the house, I’m taking my things and leaving. If you try to stop me, I’ll call the cops and tell them you’re keeping me hostage,” I growl, crossing my arms across my chest like a petulant child.
His expression stays frustratingly indifferent as he circles the hood and climbs into the seat beside me, making quick work of his own harness before he starts the engine, and we fly away from the Barnetts’ home.
Refusing to even look at him, I stare to the side, trying to map the path that leads through the woods from the Barnetts’ place to Knight’s house.
By the time we reach the fence that lines the border between the two properties, I already know there’s no way I could find my way back to Betty’s without getting lost.
Anger and a weird sense of loss bubble painfully in my stomach. I’m furious at Knight for acting like a crazy Neanderthal, but I also feel a lingering sadness at losing the peace he’s offered me since he showed up and told me he was taking me home.
The bubble I’ve been floating along in has popped, and reality has rushed in, drowning me in all the reasons why allowing a stranger to consume me is yet another stupid decision I’ve allowed myself to make.
Bright sunlight is replaced with the garage’s artificial light as Knight steers the ATV into the house before killing the engine and leaving us in deafening silence.
The metallic click of him unfastening his harness seems to echo off the walls, and for a moment, I’m so mesmerized by it I barely notice him releasing my harness, until he drags me across the ATV and onto his lap.
Banding his arms tightly around me, he climbs out with me pinned to his chest and strides purposefully into the house.
“Put me down,” I say, keeping my voice level, despite my racing heart.
Ignoring me, he strides through the living room and up the stairs, carrying me straight into our bedroom.
“I don’t want to be in here,” I tell him, my anger building as my body reacts to his proximity and the scent of sex that still lingers in the air.
“This is what we need.”
“I don’t want to fuck you,” I scream, shoving at his chest with my palms.
“Okay,” he says, crawling onto the bed and placing me carefully on my back.
I know I should stop him. I should push him away. I should tell him no. But I don’t. Instead, my chest heaves and my heart races as I watch him push the layers of skirt, netting, and satin up my thighs.
Lifting his head, he looks up at me, silently daring me to tell him no. But I stay quiet, my lips dry as I run my tongue over them, each breath I take heavy and weighted as thickening air surrounds us.
He waits one, two, three moments before his fingers curl around my panties, and he rips the thin fabric to pieces.
He ripped my panties.
He ripped my panties!
Before I can even process what to say or do, he dips his face between my thighs and kisses my pussy like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. His touch is reverent, feral, barely there, and all-consuming all at once, and my mind dissolves.
I know I’m lying on the bed. I can feel him between my thighs, worshipping my body with his mouth and fingers and tongue, but I’m dead, floating outside of my physical presence, merely a specter, watching him eat my pussy.
The feeling is glorious…mythical…ethereal.
No one has ever done this to me before, and considering my ex’s lack of sexual prowess, I never felt like I was missing out, but I was. Oh my god, I was.
Knight’s tongue pushes inside of me, and my back arches off the bed like I’ve been possessed, and maybe I have. Maybe that’s what this is. Maybe I actually am dead, and everything that’s happened since Knight knocked on my door has just been my version of heaven or hell.
Slipping his tongue out of me, he replaces it with two fingers, curling them to hit a spot inside of me that he might as well just stick a flag in, because he’s discovered it, and he owns it now.
Each time his skin grazes over it, a tugging, delicious ache pulls inside of me, slowly rising like the tide on the beach, dragging me down, down, down, until I’m begging to drown, desperate for relief from the agony of waiting.
“Please,” I beg, my voice ragged.
Instead of pushing me over the edge, he stops moving and slowly lifts his storm-filled eyes to look at me, his face wet with my own arousal.
“Please,” I say again.
Blinking, he lowers his face, licking and sucking on my clit until even his hot breath feels like it could tip me over into oblivion. But just as I’m bracing myself for a delicious death, he stops, lifting his gaze to look at me again.
“Knight,” I whimper.
For the first time, his expression isn’t blank.
Instead, his neutrality is spiked with…deviousness.
The look on his face is disquieting, as is the silent way he holds my stare, watching as my heightened body starts to settle before he slips two thick fingers into me, pushing me to the brink once more before he stops, again.
“No,” I whine, grinding my hips to chase his touch, only to be denied as he pushes my butt back to the bed with a firm arm across my waist. “Why are you stopping?” I question, feeling frustrated tears fill my eyes.
His face and stubble are glistening, wet with my arousal, but he doesn’t attempt to wipe himself as he slowly lifts his gaze until it’s locked with mine. One look from him is a silent, full sentence, but I still have no idea what he’s trying to tell me.
“Knight,” I snap, my desperation morphing into anger.
“You don’t want to fuck me,” he says, repeating the words I shouted at him when he carried me in here.
“Make me come,” I yell.
“No,” he says simply.
“Why not?” I pant, contemplating if I can replicate the movement of his fingers with my own.
“Because I only fuck my wife until she comes,” he answers, so fucking calmly that I have to fight the urge not to throw a literal tantrum.
“But you’ll mouth and finger fuck anyone,” I snap petulantly.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever done this for,” he answers, the honesty clear in his voice.
God, why can’t he be an asshole player? It would be so much easier to say no if he weren’t so earnestly devoted.
Instead of saying anything else, he leans down and licks my clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the swollen bundle of nerves until I’m grinding my pussy into his face, squirming against him as I fight to come.
But just as I’m about to implode, he stops again, pulling away from me and leaving me hanging on the verge, so close, yet so far away from bliss.
“Knight, oh my god, make me come. Please. I need you,” I beg, uncaring of how he’s turned me from furious with righteous indignation at his caveman behavior to a begging, pleading mess.
Tilting his head to the side, he assesses me like he’s cataloging my responses.
“Knight,” I pant, lifting my hips from the bed and shoving my cunt closer to his face.
Instead of touching me, he keeps staring at me, silent, calm, annoyingly unruffled when I feel unhinged.
Then it dawns on me what he’s waiting for. This fucking asshole. “Fine. I’m your wife,” I snarl, furious that I’m willing to say anything to get him to make me come.
His lips curl into a half smile, but instead of getting back to work, he slowly, methodically undresses until he’s naked, his rock-hard cock dripping pre-cum from the swollen head.
There’s something about him being naked while I’m fully dressed, only my panties ripped to give him access to my body, that feels…
dirty. But I don’t hate it. Instead, as he pushes back the ruffles of my skirt, I struggle to watch as he palms his cock, then feeds it into my soaked passage, surging forward the moment the head breaches my opening.
My orgasm hits the moment he bottoms out, and I scream, throwing my head back as wave after wave of bliss compounds inside of me, while he fucks me in brutally hard thrusts that make animalistic grunts fall from his full, wet lips.
“My wife. Mine,” he says, over and over again in rhythm with his cock slamming into me, like a mantra he’s trying to imprint on us both.
I come again when he finds my clit with his fingers, rubbing and pinching until my entire core tightens and I detonate, twitching and moaning while he continues to rail me, not even pausing as he leans forward and swallows the sounds of my pleasure with his lips.
The taste of my own arousal coats my tongue as he kisses me, but I don’t flinch. I curl my palm around his neck while he slams into me, hurtling me toward what feels like total annihilation.
I come again just as his dick swells and the first spurt of his cum pumps from his body into mine. As my breathing starts to settle, I sag down to the mattress beneath me, and his dick slips out of my pussy followed by a gush of his cum.