Chapter 16 Octavia #2
When I glance toward Cyrus’s chair, his lips are curled into a ferocious scowl while he tries to work on the back of a client who is so tense, he flinches every time Cyrus’s needle touches his skin.
“Oh my god, Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck are you doing, man? I thought you knew what you were doing, but it feels like you’re stabbing me,” the client squeals.
“I am stabbing you. Approximately six thousand times a minute. Or I would be if you’d stop fucking moving,” Cyrus snarls through gritted teeth, a black cap pulled down low over his forehead, hiding his eyes.
“Octy,” Etta calls, and I spin around and spot her coming from the break room carrying a steaming mug in her hands.
“Hey,” I call back, descending the stairs and pulling my bestie in for a hug.
“Hi, Knight,” Etta says, offering him a wave with the hand that’s not holding her drink.
“How’s the bump this morning?” I question, reaching down to pat her tiny baby bump.
“Well, I’ve only thrown up once this morning, so I’m calling that a win.”
“Does Oz know you’re drinking coffee?” Knight asks, his low rumbling tone hitting me right in the clit.
“It’s decaf,” Etta says, flashing my husband one of her rare scowls. Etta is usually a pretty easygoing person, but I know that she finds her husband’s overbearing nature a little…well, overbearing.
“Hmm,” Knight says.
“Did you meet Leo and Cyrus yet?” Etta asks.
“I met them yesterday.”
Leaning in, she lowers her voice. “Leo is a riot, but Cyrus is…”
“A pent-up ball of rage,” I suggest.
“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate. Although considering his client has been whining since the moment the needle touched his back, I’m not surprised he’s in a bad mood,” Etta says.
“Cyrus mentioned he’d got an all-day session booked in. Did the client pay up front?”
Glancing toward Cyrus and his client, Etta says, “He paid a 50 percent deposit when he booked, but Cyrus insisted that he pay the balance when he arrived. He’s only been working on him for thirty minutes, and he’s already asked for two breaks.
I think Cyrus might actually kill him if he asks to stop again. ”
Wincing, I pointedly avoid looking toward Cyrus as I make my way back to my chair.
“Hey guys, Sully texted me last night. They’re going to get into town today because their apartment is going to be ready early.
He said they plan to unload the U-Haul with their stuff, then come to the studio to get their areas stocked and set up.
Apparently, they each have some appointments set up for the next few days, so if you’re here later, you’ll get to meet them,” Betty announces.
“I’m busy all day, so we’ll be here,” I tell her, motioning for Knight to take my seat, then plopping my butt onto his lap.
Suddenly worried he might have made plans, I twist to the side so I can look up at him. I ask, “You’re staying with me, aren’t you?”
“Where else would I be?” he asks simply.
Sighing, I smile and rest my cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath me. By the time my first client arrives, I’m sleepy and a little too comfortable cuddled up in my husband’s arms.
“Octy, you little minx,” Colin shouts as he saunters through the door.
“Hey, you, long time no see,” I say, unfurling and pushing out of Knight’s lap to go and greet my longtime client.
I hear Knight’s sound of annoyance when Colin pulls me in for a hug, but I don’t see the suppressed anger in his usually emotionless eyes until I step back and turn away to lead Colin toward my area.
Since Knight and I met, the only time he’s looked even remotely perturbed was the day he brought me home and Betty tried to dismiss his role in my life and get me to move into the Barnetts’ guest room.
Unlike them, Colin isn’t a known quantity like Betty and Cody are.
With his eyes narrowed, Knight watches Colin like he’s an opponent, and he’s assessing the best way to take him down.
Knowing I need to do something to defuse the situation, I walk straight into Knight’s chest, forcing him to acknowledge me and dragging his attention away from Colin, who has no idea he’s even in danger right now.
Knight is a beast of a man. He’s strong and fit, and even though I know he doesn’t have any formal military training, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s very capable of keeping himself and those around him safe and protected if the situation arose.
“Colin, this is my husband, Knight. Baby, this is Colin. He’s been a client of mine since I first started tattooing.”
“Husband?” Colin questions, his eyebrows arching so high they hit his receding hairline.
I don’t know how old Colin is, but I’d place him in the early to mid-forties range.
He’s an ex-professional hockey player turned coach, and I gave him his first tattoo when I worked in the shop in Las Vegas where Etta and I met.
“Yep,” I say, holding my left hand up to show him the wedding and engagement rings on my finger.
“Holy shit, so that’s why you’ve been MIA the last couple of months. Congratulations, I’m happy for you,” Colin gushes, smiling brightly.
“Thanks, Colin,” I say, not mentioning that Knight and I have only been together for eight days, or that my months of being MIA have nothing to do with my new relationship.
Turning to Knight, Colin holds out his hand to him. “You’ve caught yourself one hell of a woman. Congratulations.”
I brace, wondering what he’ll do, but Knight accepts his hand and nods. “I know how lucky I am.”
Crisis averted, I show Colin the sketch I’ve done for him, then get to work. At twelve noon, Jaiden arrives with an order pad and pen and takes everyone’s food orders, then promptly returns at twelve fifty p.m. with our food.
Despite Knight’s obviously unimpressed expression, I don’t stop working at one p.m. Instead, I take a bite of my sandwich, then set it aside while I work on Colin’s tattoo.
Once I’ve finished, I wrap his leg up, get him booked for the next piece he wants, then wave goodbye as Etta checks him out at the front desk.
I can feel Knight’s displeasure when I climb the stairs, ready to clean up my station before my next client gets here in forty-five minutes.
“Eat your lunch,” Knight says quietly the moment I take a seat in my chair.
“I just want to clean up, then I have a little time to eat before my next client.”
Tension radiates from him as he watches me clean and re-wrap everything in fresh sterile bags, ready for my next client. Once I’m done, I reach for my sandwich only to find it already in Knight’s hand.
“Break room,” he says coolly, taking my hand in his and guiding me down the steps and toward the back of the building before I’ve even agreed.
Opening the door for us, Knight urges me to step past him and into the room, then follows me in, closing and locking the door behind us.
“What—” I start to question.
Spinning me around, Knight pushes me forward until my chest is pressed against the wood of the door.
“We’re late,” he says, pushing his hands between my legs and finding the waistband of my panties. Tugging them down, he slips two fingers into my pussy, then finds my clit with his other hand, barraging me with sensation.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, pushing my hands between us and bracing them against the door.
My body reacts like a junkie to a hit, and wetness pools between my thighs, as he finger fucks me, finding that spot inside of me like he’s done this a thousand times before.
Rubbing my clit, he stops, removing the pressure, then slaps the tiny bundle of nerves with two fingers, making a sharp burst of pleasure-filled pain spike between my thighs.
“Come for me, Doll,” he whispers against my throat, pressing a gentle kiss against my fluttering pulse point, his soft touch a huge contradiction to the way his fingers are forcing me toward release.
My knees buckle when my orgasm hits, and the only thing keeping me upright is the pressure of Knight’s huge body behind me, holding me against the door.
Biting my lip, I stifle the sounds that try to escape from my mouth as Knight’s fingers start to slow.
Finally stopping, he slips his fingers out of my body and lifts his hand from my clit to band it around my waist.
“You need to eat,” he informs me, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, not sounding at all like he just gave me an orgasm at my place of work.
“Are you kidding me?” I rasp through strained breaths. “What even was that?”
“Lunch and manual stimulation at 1300 hours,” he states, twisting the lock open as he pulls my panties back into place and scoops me into his arms.
“God, calling it manual stimulation makes it sound like a medical procedure. Are you telling me that you finger fucked me because it’s on your schedule?”
“Yes,” he says simply.
Sitting down on the couch, Knight positions me on his lap, then reaches for the sandwich that I don’t remember him putting down, and offers it to me. “Eat.”
“You can’t just drag me in here to give me an orgasm,” I protest, but I can hear the dreamy post-O softness in my voice that belays most of my indignation.
“Why not?”
“Because the people I have to work with all day were twenty feet from the door.”
“I would not allow them to come in.”
“What if they heard?” I shriek.
“You weren’t loud enough to be heard. Your colleagues are not aware that I was stimulating you in here, but in the future we can go to the car and drive somewhere more secluded.”
“So you want to drive me somewhere so you can finger fuck me in the car because you added making me orgasm to your schedule?” I ask, hearing the shrill quality in my voice getting louder.
“You enjoy orgasming. You requested that we add orgasms to our daily routine. I don’t understand what the issue is.”
“Of course, I enjoy orgasming…” I start, then fall silent, because what can I even say? “I was being sarcastic about it being part of your schedule.”
“We spoke last night about this, and we agreed that encouraging your body to expect multiple orgasms each day will be beneficial to our marriage. I’ve already made the adjustments to our daily schedule to accommodate that.”
Closing my eyes, I inhale slowly, quietly exhaling, until my breathing has settled.
I know I should argue, or protest, or tell him how extra it is that he wants to pre-plan my daily orgasm quota.
But in the short amount of time I’ve spent with Knight, I feel like I’ve started to understand him a little.
He craves me. He wants to be close to me and be involved in every aspect of my life, and he wants me to feel the same way about him.
He wants me to be as obsessed with him as he seems to be with me, and even though I think he knows he can’t orgasm me into falling in love with him, this is his way of conditioning my body to need him.
It’s insane and ridiculous, but just like all the other ways he takes care of me, I love it and him.