Chapter 45
Chapter forty-five
Brynn
I’m still floating in a post-orgasmic haze when Knox rises to stand. He’s gloriously naked, gloriously hard—thick, full, and impossible to ignore.
Instinctively, I reach out and wrap my hand around him.
His eyes flutter shut, a guttural sound slipping from his throat, but then his hand catches my wrist, firm but gentle.
“If you want this to last more than five minutes, Brynn…” His voice is strained, half warning, half plea. “You need to stop.”
I giggle, breathless and smug. “Been a while since you scored, Coach?”
His eyes snap open, locking with mine.
And the laughter dies in my throat.
“Is six years a while?” he asks, low and raw.
“You're serious?” I ask, still breathless, still clinging to the last ripples of my release.
He only nods.
And just like that, my chest tightens with something deeper than arousal. This man…he waited. Whether he knew he was waiting for me or not, I try not to figure it out. Because I don’t want to cry. Not now. Not when I’m laid bare and he's looking at me like I’m a miracle.
“I don't know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Knox murmurs, his lips brushing between my breasts as he shifts us up the bed, cradling my head on a pillow like it’s second nature. “Just tell me you want this as much as I do.”
I reach for his face, cupping his jaw, needing him to feel it as much as hear it. “I want this more than you could even realize.”
His eyes drag over me like he’s imprinting the view onto his soul. Slow. Heavy. The kind of look that makes my skin flush.
“You’re still the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, voice low and dark.
My breath catches, my fingers tugging at the open lapels of the varsity jacket still hanging loose over my bare skin. “Must be the jacket,” I tease, smirking.
He grins, all teeth and trouble. “That jacket is my villain origin story now. If I lose control tonight, blame the nostalgia.”
A short, breathy laugh escapes me, but it’s chased by a shiver. He just had me clinging to my own soul with his tongue, but now…I need him. All of him.
“So what happens now, Coach? Tell me how you’re going to lose control,” I ask, tone sweet and daring.
His hand slides up my thigh, slow and deliberate. The pad of his thumb strokes just beneath the hem of the jacket, and I arch instinctively toward the touch.
“Now,” he growls, “I take what I’ve fantasized about for six damn years.”
He kisses me again, slower this time. Controlled.
His mouth tastes like hunger and memory, and it sets every nerve ending I have on fire.
His hands roam—steady palms trailing fire across my legs, my waist, the undersides of my breasts through the fabric of the jacket.
When he finally cups me fully, my nipples harden under his thumbs, and he hums in approval.
He always notices. Every reaction. Every stutter of breath. Every tremble.
“Tell me what you want, baby girl,” he whispers into the hollow of my throat. His voice is sinful.
I don’t hesitate. “I want to make love.”
His breath leaves him in a ragged exhale. Like I hit him in the chest with the force of it. “Yeah?” His hand cups my cheek now, grounding me. “You want it slow?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Slow first. Then I want you to ruin me.”
The growl that vibrates from his chest is pure male satisfaction. “You’re being such a good girl for me, asking for what you need.”
That praise. That heat. My brain short-circuits.
With a reverence that makes my throat tight, he begins to slide the jacket from my shoulders, inch by slow inch. Like he’s unwrapping something sacred. And when I’m finally bare beneath him, laid out like a gift, I don’t feel shy. I feel dangerous.
His mouth trails between my breasts. His palms cupping me like he’s holding me steady, grounding us both.
“Fuck, Brynn,” he rasps, his voice full of gravel and reverence. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. You’re mine. You hear me? No one else will ever get to see you like this, touch you like this, love and fuck you like this.”
But then his expression shifts—just slightly. That soft flicker of concern that melts me.
“Hey.” His thumb brushes over my cheek. “Do you need anything? I remembered what you said and grabbed lube—just in case.”
God.
This man. This dirty, fiercely loyal, utterly thoughtful man. He remembered. He sees me, even here, even now.
I blink fast, trying to clear the heat in my eyes.
“You okay?” he asks again, voice gentler now. “Talk to me, baby.”
“I’m more than okay,” I breathe, heart aching in the best way. “You can grab it just in case. But the way you’re taking care of me…that alone might be enough.”
Something shifts behind his eyes—dark and molten.
“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “I’ll hold back if you want me to.
But Brynn…fuck.” He leans in close, breath hot against my ear.
“If I lose control…if I end up fucking you like I’ve dreamed of for six goddamn years, it’s because I missed every inch of you.
Every noise you make. Every shiver. I need this more than I need air. ”
I moan, nails biting into his shoulders as I crush our mouths together, the kiss messy and desperate. I wrap my legs around his waist, hips rolling up to meet him.
“I’m okay with that,” I pant, every inch of me vibrating.
“Need a condom,” he mutters, reaching toward the drawer.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “Nothing between us, please? I’m clean.”
His body goes still. His eyes flare. “Shit, Brynn…I’ve never felt you bare before.”
“I want to feel everything.”
He lines himself up, his focus locked entirely on me. There’s no rush, no fumbling. Just reverence and heat and love.
He presses in—slow, steady. Stretching me. Filling me.
We both cry out when he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, nails digging into his back. The fullness is dizzying. Perfect.
“Open your eyes, baby girl,” he says, voice dark and commanding. “I want you to see how good you take me. How perfectly this pussy fits me.”
I force my eyes open, drawn to where we’re joined, the slick, sinful image as intoxicating as the feel of him inside me.
His gaze locks with mine, and I see everything—hunger, awe, possession.
When he starts to move in deep, grinding thrusts, it’s like we’ve never been apart. But there’s something more now. More reverence. More fire.
He braces himself over me, his forehead pressed to mine as he thrusts slow and thick, dragging a moan from deep in my chest. I move with him, chasing the ache, clinging to the wave cresting between us.
“Jesus, Brynn,” he groans. “It’s like your pussy missed me, like you’re holding onto me like you’ll never let me go.”
I cry out, the words detonating something in my chest.
“Harder,” I beg, my voice already wrecked.
He flips us, sudden and seamless, settling me over him. I sink down, gasping as he fills me from this new angle—so deep I swear I see stars.
He threads his fingers in my hair, pulling gently. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice shredded.
“Harder,” I plead. “I want you to break me.”
He pistons up into me—relentless, punishing—and I come apart. My orgasm crashes through me like a storm, raw and wild and unstoppable. My walls clench around him, dragging him with me.
“Fuck, Brynn,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me like you don’t want me to leave. Like this cock belongs to you.”
“It does, Knox. It’s mine.”
He follows with a broken sound, his body jerking beneath mine, spilling deep as he buries his face in my neck.
We ride the aftershocks together—messy, breathless, clinging like the world narrowed down to just this bed and the pieces of us slotting back into place.
And when he finally collapses beneath me, arms locked around my waist, his lips brush my ear.
“You have no idea what you just did to me.”
He doesn’t pull out. He doesn’t say another word. He just holds me. And I hold him right back.