Chapter 9 Knox
KNOX
Her lips press against my palm. This small body of hers melts into my much bigger one.
She’s soft. Perfect.
Mine.
I wasn’t raised to want someone like Skylar. Gentle. Precious.
Then again, I wasn’t meant to want at all.
To murder, yes. To turn skin into leather, that too.
Breeding, to keep the town living and breathing? Absolutely.
But not this.
Not to ache for the little hitch of her breath. The red that climbs from her neck to her cheeks.
Not to desire these tears soaking my palm. Her humanity, her fragility, there’s none of that in Colbert.
Definitely not the freedom she represents. A life beyond these walls, away from this town, was always forbidden.
But I crave her. So fucking much.
This blonde angel. My furious, terrified trouble.
I can’t let her see this, how my heart is cracking open for her. This weakness.
This isn’t the time.
“Mmm,” Skylar mumbles something that sounds a lot like please.
She wiggles in my arms, desperate to free herself. Maybe fight me.
This little bird, I could crush her with how turned on I am.
“Mmm. Mmm.”
I’d free her mouth. Make this whole scene believable by letting them hear her shouting in fear. But fuck, I love the feel of her lips on me.
My muscles are wound tight, ready to wreck her. My head’s a mess of crackling noise and her name.
I thought I could wait. Thought I could put off touching her the way I need to, keep myself in check until we’re in my basement.
I thought wrong.
Watching her had already torn me open, turned me inside out.
Holding her shatters whatever restraint I had left.
I’m aching. Raging.
Losing my fucking mind.
“Son, good job catching that one,” Papa shouts from downstairs. “Now, you comin’ or what?”
Jett laughs, then laughs harder when Easton screams, Help. “Oh, rich boy, you need me to help you?”
“No!” he shouts.
Skylar’s wide, watery eyes turn toward me, panicked. Pleading.
I see my reflection in them. The monster.
I love how she tries to make sense of me, of this entire situation. Sweet thing, blinking back her tears, squinting, her eyes boring into mine.
Later, she can study me all she wants. I’ll welcome every probing gaze, every question she shoots my way.
Until we’re alone, the only thing she needs is to stay obedient.
“Mine.” I inch my face closer to hers. To smell her. To scare her.
Most of all, unless she’s screaming in pain, she has to stay quiet. Asking questions will make it seem like she isn’t scared of me. Like I’m being nice to her. Alarms will blare downstairs, and soon enough, everyone will come up here.
“Not theirs, not anyone’s,” I growl. “So you better not try to run, understand?”
She blinks once.
“Good call.” Without letting go of her, I lift my head and yell, “I’ll be down soon. Gotta discipline her first.”
“Here?” Jett’s footsteps grow louder on the ancient floorboards, closer to us now. “You forgot the way to your place or something, Brother?”
“Can’t have her like that in my basement, all rowdy and shit,” I say, making sure they don’t hear the need clogging my throat. There’s so much of it. I have to make her come. I don’t know why. I just do. “She’ll mess everything up. I won’t have it.”
“Good idea,” Papa agrees.
“As long as you’re here, can I join?” I don’t have to see my brother to know he’s licking his lips. “I do love them subdued.”
My possessiveness is primal. I barely stop myself from going down there and gouging his eyes out for talking about my Skylar like that.
Your family needs him.
They can have him, as long as he stays away from her. He’s never putting his hands on her. Ever.
I’d tear the world apart before I let anyone take her from me.
Skylar doesn’t know how serious I am about her. She flinches when Jett’s footsteps echo louder, closer. She shifts so her hands slide back over my thighs.
Her fingers seek me out. Her nails dig into my jeans.
As tears roll down her cheeks, she gives me a save me look.
She chooses me.
I wanted her before.
I’m fucking ravenous for her now.
“Ten minutes,” I bark, hoping it’s enough to get Skylar off.
Not like my family will notice how long I stay here. Binding people and listening to them beg and sob is more than a job for them. Out here, it’s the only source of entertainment.
“We’ll be down here.” Jett yeehaws before I hear a loud bang, then Easton’s, “Fuck.”
Skylar whimpers. Her entire body tenses in my hold.
In two seconds flat, we’re back inside the room. I kick the door shut, creating a barrier between us and the rest of the world.
Finally, I have her all to myself. She’s mine to bend, break, and own, down to her marrow.
“I want—no, fuck, I need—to touch you,” I seethe, dragging my hand down her stomach. I’m so close to her shorts’ waistband that I could die. “Stop fighting me.”
I’m throbbing, grinding my hips against her. Her fingers flex when I tease the button of her jeans, then slip my hand under her top instead.
She goes completely still when I stroke and explore her belly, the goosebumps I put there.
Touching her is as if I’ve been struck by lightning. Electri-fucking-fying.
“Mmm.” Another sound from her that could be either please or no.
Since she doesn’t fight me anymore…
I’d say it’s a please.
Not that it matters. She belongs to me either way.
“I’d tell you obedience might earn your freedom, Trouble.” I’m gentle, though all I want is to tear the clothes right off her body. One flick of my wrist and the button of her jeans slips free. “But that’d be a lie. There’s no getting away from me.”
That threat snaps something in her. Her fists curl against my thighs, punching, clawing, trying to hurt me.
Without meaning to, she turns me on even more.
Every time my cock grinds against her back, right above her ass, a savage hunger tears through me.
She fights me every step as I drag us to the nearest wall, swinging, trying to bite me.
“You’re wasting your breath.” I shift my grip, my hand returning to cover her mouth a second after I shove her cheek against the wall. “Told you, there’s no getting out of this. So take it.”
My hips find their rhythm, rocking into her. I catch her zipper with my other hand and drag it down.
She can scream into my palm, can cry. Hell, she can pretend she doesn’t get off on it just as much as I do.
But she forgets one thing.
That I’m here. Looming over her. Seeing her.
I watch her back arch and feel her ass rub up against me.
I don’t think she can help herself. Her desperation crushes her attempts to break free.
“I’ll give you what you’re begging for.” My middle finger drifts down, brushing wet fabric. Heat surges through me. Her tears and accusing glare are just as hot. “But before that, there’s just one thing I need to take care of. I have to make them believe I’m hurting you.”
The desire in her eyes morphs into confusion. She blinks, eyebrows knitting tight, like she can’t make sense of my words.
No time to explain.
I release her mouth and slam my hand twice against the wall beside her head, each crack loud enough to rattle the boards.
Her body jerks, a sharp screech tearing out of her throat. Perfect.
It’s as if I threw her against the wall. As if I’d beaten her.
Never.
To keep up appearances, I raise my hand a second time.
“Stop! No, no, no,” she screams, turning her face to the wall. Pressing her forehead against it. “No!”
Hiding from me infuriates me just as much as the thought of her running away. I turn her face back to the side so I can see this—her expression when I shove my hand into her cotton panties.
It takes a few strokes and—
Yes.
She’s moaning, huffing, heating up.
I rub up against her, my middle finger dipping lower, into her pussy.
Curling my finger inside her hole, I’m consumed by it. It’s where I want to be buried for days.
“Wet.” And perfect. “Means you want it. You’re hot for my finger.”
Her scent clings to me, and I groan when she clenches around me. I explore and graze every hot inch of her and—yes, she likes it. Her thighs shake. Little sounds spill out of her, no matter how hard she bites them back.
When her moans get louder, I grunt, “Stop it.”
“No, you stop it.” Her refusal sounds a lot like consent when her cheek is so goddamn red, and her smell is everywhere. “My sister. She’s hurt. I need to help her.”
“She’s alive.” I give her another finger, experimenting, rubbing her until her body responds, until she’s swelling beneath my touch. “Don’t worry.”
“Yes, but—”
But nothing, because when I change an angle, and my fingers graze another spot, Skylar’s words die on her beautiful pink tongue.
The more I touch her, the more her eyes change. The more she forgets about anyone else other than the two of us.
Then, I don’t mean to, but I press the heel of my hand to that throbbing part of her, her clit.
Her reaction to it wrecks me in the best way.
“Oh God,” she cries out quietly. “Fuck, please.”
“That’s good for you?” Every word I say feels like pressing another button. Talking to Skylar sends more wetness trickling down my hand. My cock aches to replace my fingers. “You want my hand on your clit?”
“N-No.”
“Liar.” I’m a live wire, ready to snap and bury myself in her.
I can’t. Not here.
Once I fuck her, I know I won’t be able to stop.
The floors would shake. The house would rattle. They’d hear sounds that belong to me and no one else.
No.
I can do this, though. Keep grinding the heel of my hand on her clit, fucking her with my fingers.
I’m ravenous, working her up. Her body responds to me, shivering as I force pleasure into her.
As I claim her.
“No. No, no, no.” Her hands splay flat on the wall, fingers flexing against the wood. Except she isn’t trying to push me off. Skylar leans into me. “My sister.”
“Fuck your sister.” My muscles are pulled tight. Teeth locked. I’m hot every-fucking-where. “And fuck your no. You don’t get to hate it. You don’t get to lie to me. You want this.”