Chapter 8 - Beth
"Is that why you're helping me? Because it's the right thing to do?"
"Yes," Knight says, then adds, "But not just that."
I don't understand why, but suddenly my focus shifts to his face.
Those intense green eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips.
My gaze travels lower, over broad shoulders that strain against his t-shirt, down to where his jeans sit low on his hips.
The outline of what can only be an impressive bulge draws my attention before I catch myself.
Heat crawls up my neck and spreads across my skin. I’m aware of how my thighs press together, of the unexpected dampness between them. What the hell is happening to me? I'm in mortal danger, hiding in a cabin with men coming to kill me, and my body is reacting like this?
Maybe it's the adrenaline. Maybe it's the fear and stress breaking me in strange ways. Or maybe it's just him… This enigmatic man with his contradictions and protective instincts who put himself between me and bullets without hesitation.
"If not just that, then what else?" My voice trembles slightly, betraying me.
Knight releases my hand and stands abruptly, pacing the small living room. He rubs his palms against his jeans, clearly agitated, deliberately avoiding my gaze.
"This is wrong," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "There are rules, protocols. Lines that shouldn't be crossed." He shakes his head. "I've never—this isn't—"
I rise from my chair, drawn to his distress like a moth to flame. Standing behind him, I place my hands on his shoulders, feeling the knotted tension there. I begin kneading gently, feeling the hard muscle beneath my fingers.
His head tilts back slightly. "What are you doing?"
"You seem stressed," I say, continuing the impromptu massage. "I thought this might help."
It's not a lie, but it's not the entire truth either. I wanted to touch him as much as I want him to touch me. The realization should shock me, but somehow it doesn't.
Under my fingers, his shoulders gradually relax. He exhales deeply, then stiffens again.
"Beth," he says, his voice rough. "You should step away now."
"Why?" I press my thumbs into a particularly tight knot near his spine.
"Because if you don't," he starts, "I might not be able to rein myself in."
My pussy throbs at his words, a pulse of want so strong it makes me dizzy. "What does that mean?"
Knight turns to face me, and there's no hiding the pronounced bulge in his jeans now.
His eyes are darker, pupils dilated. "I don't know how someone I just met has this effect on me.
I've always followed the rules, always kept the line.
But right now..." He swallows hard. "Right now I'm seconds away from ripping your clothes off and fucking you right here. "
The crude words from this disciplined man send a shock of arousal through me. I feel powerful suddenly, desired. In control for the first time in months.
"You don't have to rip them," I say, surprising myself with my boldness. "I can take them off."
Before I can second-guess myself, I pull the oversized flannel shirt over my head, revealing my naked breasts beneath. I've never been particularly confident about my body. Too round in places society says shouldn't be, but the way Knight looks at me makes me feel beautiful.
His eyes widen, jaw going slack. A muscle in his left eye twitches slightly. He steps forward, one hand reaching toward me before stopping midair.
"This is a mistake," he says hoarsely. "This isn't me, but God help me, I can't stop."
I smile, feeling more confident by the second. "I like the idea of you losing control because of me. It's strange, but for the first time in so long, I feel powerful. In control."
My hands find the button of his jeans, unfastening it slowly. He doesn't stop me, doesn't say a word as I lower the zipper and push his pants down to his knees.
He's wearing dark blue briefs that do nothing to hide his impressive erection. The outline of his cock strains against the fabric, thick and long, visibly throbbing with need. I want to touch it, taste it, feel it inside me.
"Are you okay with this?" I ask, fingers playing with the waistband of his briefs.
He shakes his head, not in negation but in disbelief. "I am. But I should be the one asking you that."
"I'm more than okay," I tell him honestly.
"I've been terrified for so long, and now I feel safe with you.
Before whatever happens next, I just need.
.." How do I explain this primal need, this desperate desire to feel alive and in control through pleasure?
"I need to be thoroughly fucked. To feel something other than fear before I have to face them in court. "
A small smile tugs at his lips. "Well, if that's what you need, I'll help. I am a gentleman, after all."
"You are," I agree, then add daringly, "but I hope you won't be one right now."
His eyes darken further, his stance changes subtly. He hooks his thumbs in his briefs and pulls them down, freeing his cock.
It's magnificent. Thick and long, standing proud against his flat stomach. My mouth waters at the sight.
"Stroke it," he orders, voice deeper than I've heard before. "And spit on it."
I wrap my hand around his shaft, marveling at how my fingers can't fully circle it. I lean forward and let saliva drip onto the swollen head, then spread it down his length with my hand.
Before he can give another command, I take control again, stroking the base firmly while wrapping my lips around the head. Knight groans, hips jerking forward involuntarily, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth.
I take as much as I can, relaxing my throat to accommodate his size. It's been a long time since I've done this, and never with someone so well-endowed, but his obvious pleasure spurs me on. I bob my head, creating a tight suction with my lips as I move up and down his shaft.
"Fuck, Beth," he grunts, legs trembling slightly with each motion. "You look so fucking gorgeous with my cock in your mouth."
His words encourage me, and I increase my pace, taking him deeper with each descent.
We find a rhythm together, his hips making small thrusting motions as I work him with my mouth.
I can feel saliva escaping the corners of my lips, dripping down my chin and onto my breasts, but I don't care.
There's something primal and perfect about the messiness of it.
I angle my head to look up at him without breaking contact, wanting to see his pleasure. His hair is damp at the temples, teeth clenched as he watches me work his cock.
He pulls his shirt over his head, and I quickly reach up to touch his abs, tracing the defined muscles with my fingers while still keeping his cock in my mouth.
My jaw begins to ache from the effort, so I pull back, using both hands to stroke him instead. "Sorry," I murmur, massaging my jaw. "Not used to something so big."
He smiles down at me. "We're just getting started." He extends his hand to me, and I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.
His hands move to my ass, squeezing both ass cheeks.
There's no judgment in his eyes for my curves, no hesitation in his touch.
He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he captures my mouth in a deep, consuming kiss.
He doesn't seem to care that my lips were just around his cock.
If anything, it seems to inflame him further.
Knight carries me to the bed, laying me down with surprising gentleness.
I hurriedly shimmy out of the sweatpants, leaving only my panties as a final barrier.
He positions himself above me, arms braced on either side of my head like protective columns and runs one hand teasingly over the damp fabric between my legs.
I squirm beneath his touch, desperate for more. "Why aren't you fucking me?" I ask boldly.
His eyes sparkle with mischief. "Is that what you want?"
"Yes," I nod frantically. "Please. Help me forget everything else, just for a little while."
"Your wish is my command," he says, hooking his fingers in my panties and sliding them down my legs.
I feel momentarily self-conscious about how wet I am, how obviously aroused, but Knight's expression shows only appreciation as he positions himself between my thighs. He guides his cock to my entrance, pressing just the tip inside.
The stretch is immediate, delicious. "More," I beg. "Please, more."
He complies, pushing forward slowly, allowing me to adjust to his size. Inch by inch, he fills me completely, stretching me in ways I've never experienced before. When he's fully seated inside me, we both groan at the sensation.
"You feel amazing," he murmurs against my neck. "So wet for me."
Then he begins to move, drawing back and thrusting forward over and over again. The old bed creaks beneath us, a rhythmic counterpoint to our gasps and moans. Through the window, birds sing, oblivious to the desperate fucking taking place inside.
I grip the sheets tightly, my body trembling with each perfect thrust. This is exactly what I needed to feel alive, to feel pleasure instead of fear, to connect with another human being in the most primal and intimate way.
I reach up, placing my hands on either side of his face. "Look at me," I whisper. "I want you to look at me while you fuck me."
His eyes lock with mine.
"You're beautiful, Beth," he says, never breaking rhythm. "If I'm breaking rules, I'm glad it's for you. You're worth breaking every rule for."