Chapter 9 Knight #2
“We’re in the basement, and you’re here because I couldn’t do my full PT in our bedroom,” I tell her.
“This is the basement?” she asks, turning to assess the space.
The first third of the basement is set up as a gym with all the equipment I use and some things I thought Octavia might use when I had assumed she would work out alongside me each morning.
Beyond the equipment are a hot tub and ice bath, and against the far wall is a swimming pool.
“Is that a pool?” she asks, turning from the pool to me.
“Yes. If you’d like, we can build a pool outside too, but having an indoor pool means it can be used all year round, regardless of the weather.”
“That’s…” She trails off, then blinks, frowns, and huffs, slapping her hands against the comforter.
“Why am I here? I fell asleep upstairs. Wait. I’m in a bed.
Why is there a bed in the gym? Is this where you bring women to fuck them?
” As she speaks, her face turns red, and her voice gets louder until she’s shouting.
I wait for her to finish speaking before I answer her questions.
“You’re here because I work out at 0500 hours. You fell asleep upstairs, and I carried you down here this morning. Yes, you’re in a bed. I built it last night so you could continue to sleep, as you expressed to me that you didn’t want to work out with me.”
Despite my calm and rational answers, my doll seems to be getting more irate instead of being soothed. “Are you fucking serious?” she yells. “And you didn’t answer about fucking women in here.”
“I’m unsure what part you believe I am lying about?” I question.
“Answer the fucking question, Knight. Did you bring women here to fuck them?” she demands, her hands shaking slightly against the comforter, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink.
“I built this house for you. The only people who have been here apart from the contractors who helped me build it are you and me. It’s been nearly two years since I had any sexual interaction with anyone else, and when I did, my encounters took place at hotels.
You are my wife. This house is yours. That bed is yours. I am yours.”
Tears drip from her eyes moments before she brings her hands up and covers her face with them. “I’m sorry,” she gasps.
“What are you sorry for?” I ask, lifting her out of the bed and sitting her on my lap.
“For asking you about your exes and accusing you of bringing them here.”
“I don’t have exes. I have engaged in sexual acts with others, but the only relationship I’ve ever had, or wanted to have, was this one. I was created to be your husband, and you were made to be my wife. Nothing else before you exists.”
“Why do you make it so easy to be so crazy with you?” she whispers against my chest.
“Everything about us is easy,” I tell her honestly.
“What time is it?” she asks after a few moments.
“It’s 6:32.”
“Christ, it’s early. Knight, why didn’t you just leave me to sleep?” she whines, sniffling slightly.
“Because I can’t do my full PT routine in our bedroom,” I tell her again.
“So just come work out, then get back into bed. The only thing that makes sense between us is the sex, so why are we in the gym when the only reasonable reason to be up this early is because we’re fucking?”
“Do you need to be fucked, Mrs. Taylor?” I ask, lowering my voice until it’s barely more than a gruff vibration.
“No,” she snaps.
Despite my and my dick’s disappointment, I nod, feeling a little relieved that if I hurry, I can still finish my workout and be showered and dressed in time for breakfast. “Okay. I have sixteen more minutes left on my workout. Breakfast is at 0700.”
Placing her back down on the mattress, I tuck the covers around her, then stride back over to the push-up bars and resume my exercise.
“Are you serious?” Octavia snaps, and I sense rather than see her throw off the comforter and slip from the bed. “You’re just going to work out?” she hisses.
Counting down from sixty in my head, I release the hold, then stand up. “Are you upset?” I ask.
“I’m tired. I’m going back to bed,” she announces.
“Wait. Once I finish, I can carry you back upstairs. We’ll have breakfast, then I’ll run you a bath.”
“I’m not sleeping down here, and I’m not hungry, so don’t bother making breakfast for me. I’m exhausted, so please don’t wake me up before eleven a.m.,” she says, her shoulders slumped as she searches for the stairs, then makes a beeline for them, disappearing from view.
The moment I can’t see her, an unexpected panic starts to build in my chest. Grabbing my cell, I activate all the house’s internal cameras and frantically scroll through the streams until I find her.
She’s still perfectly naked and clearly unashamed by it as I watch her storm into our bedroom, lift the comforter, and crawl back into our bed, pulling the covers over her head and hiding herself from both my and the camera’s view.
A nagging voice reminds me that I haven’t finished my workout.
That the clock is ticking. That order is everything.
But another voice is shouting at me to go to her, to be close enough to touch that even if it kills me to ignore my routine, she’s more important, because my pain is nothing in comparison to my need for her.
So I follow my greatest need and stride out of the gym and toward my heart.
The covers are still over her head when I enter the bedroom, strip off my shorts, and climb into the bed beside her. She’s on her side, her face turned away from me, so I lift her and turn her to face me, needing to look at her.
“I don’t understand why you’re upset,” I tell her, hating that I feel like a failure. This is my wife. My mate. My heart. I did something to upset her, and I don’t know what, or why, and for the first time in decades, I feel as weird as others have been calling me my entire life.
Would other people know why she was mad? Would everyone else except me understand her better? Are my limitations going to be the cause of her pain?
“I’m not upset at you,” she says, dipping her chin to keep her face hidden from me.
Hooking my thumb beneath her chin, I force her to look at me, hoping that her expression will resonate with me, even though I’ve never understood more than the basics for other people.
“I’m tired,” she exhales.
“We can have an early night,” I assure her.
“I don’t like getting up early.”
“I’ll try to be quieter tomorrow, so you don’t wake up.”
“Why can’t I just stay up here?” she asks, her brow furrowed, her tone…confused?
“Because I can’t breathe without you,” I say honestly, trying to explain this…need to be close to her that I have.
“Did you really buy that bed down there just for me?” Some of the furrows in her forehead have gone, and even though I still don’t really know what that means, I don’t think it’s because she’s getting angrier.
“Yes. It was delivered yesterday while you were napping. I set it up last night after you said you were too exhausted to be fucked again.”
A soft smile combined with a tiny chuckle gives me hope that I’ve done something right.
“I think I preferred it when you called it intercourse,” she says softly.
“You told me that the words intercourse and penetration were clinical.”
“I know.” She exhales. “But there’s something about hearing you talk about fucking that does something to me.”
“What does it do?” I ask, mentally documenting the softening of her muscles and the hardening of her nipples as her legs move, her thigh muscles clenching then unclenching as she rubs her legs together restlessly.
“It turns me on,” she whispers.
“I still have fourteen minutes of my workout left.”
“You’re leaving?” she rasps, her eyes going wide.
“I believe it’s possible for me to replicate the muscle usage of my remaining exercises by fucking you,” I tell her.
“How?” she asks, soft and breathless again.
“Perhaps I should show you.”
Instead of speaking, she nods, and I take charge, rolling her beneath me and lifting her entire lower body off the bed.
Holding her weight with one arm, I guide my cock into her entrance, then start to roll my stomach, carefully grinding into her while I engage my abs, tensing each set of muscles in turn while I fuck her in a slow wave movement.
“Oh god,” she pants.
“I’m not God. Who am I?” I question, needing to hear her say it.
“Knight. You’re Knight.”
“Who. Am. I?” I ask again, punctuating each word with a harder roll, hitting a little deeper each time.
“My…” She pauses, swallowing thickly.
“Who?”
“My husband. You’re my husband,” she says on a prolonged moan.
“Perfect. You’re my perfect doll, and I need you. I can’t be away from you, not even in the same house. You’re my center, the thing my entire world spins around. I can’t function without you. You’re my chaos. My wife. My heart.”
I fuck her while I tell her everything. I’ve admitted all of these facts to her separately, but as I fill her over and over with my dick, I tell her my truth all in one go.
I give her all the power, I give her me, over and over and over until she cries out her release, and I fill her with my cum, hoping and praying that I just filled her womb with a baby.