Chapter 9 - Knight
"You're beautiful, Beth," I tell her. "If I'm breaking rules, I'm glad it's for you. You're worth breaking every rule for."
The words tumble from my mouth, surprising me even as I say them. I, Knight, the man who's lived his entire life by rules and structure, am throwing it all away for a woman I've known less than forty-eight hours.
Yet looking down at her—face flushed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure, lips parted in small gasps—I know with absolute certainty that I have no regrets.
My cock slides in and out of her pussy, each thrust drawing a new sound from her throat. I've never felt anything so perfect, so right. The slick heat of her grips me like a vice, demanding more, harder, deeper.
For a brief moment, my training kicks in.
I pause to listen, scanning the room, checking the windows, assessing potential threats.
Always vigilant, always aware. Beth is still in danger.
I can't forget that, not even while buried inside her.
I'll protect her. Get her to Denver. Make sure she testifies. And after it's all over...
"Knight?" Beth's soft voice pulls me back to her. "Can I be on top? I want to feel like I'm in control."
I smile down at her, understanding her need. "I'd love that."
Rolling to my side, I help position her above me, watching as she straddles my hips. She takes my cock in her small hand, rubbing the head against her slick entrance before slowly sinking down.
When she's fully seated, she begins to move, finding her own rhythm. Her hands move to her breasts, squeezing them as she rides me. The moans that escape her are primal, uninhibited, filling the cabin with the sounds of her pleasure.
Fuck, those sounds. Each one makes me harder, makes me want to flip her over and pound into her until she screams. But I hold back.
This is her moment, her chance to take control after having it stripped away for so long.
She needs this, and I understand better than most what it's like to need control when everything else is chaos.
She bounces on my cock, her movements growing more confident with each rise and fall. Saliva glistens on her chin, her hair wild around her face as she loses herself in sensation. She's a goddess, curvy and perfect, taking her pleasure from my body.
I place my hands on her thick thighs, feeling the muscles work as she rides me. "That's it, take what you need," I encourage her.
Beth leans forward, pressing her soft breasts against my chest. Her lips find my neck, kissing and sucking as her ass continues its hypnotic rise and fall.
I move my hands to those perfect cheeks, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave marks.
I want her to carry the memory of this, of us, when she faces what's coming.
"I'm close," she warns, her voice breaking. "Fuck, I'm so close."
I tangle my hand in her hair, pulling her face to mine. "Let me take over now," I tell her.
As she slows her movements, I plant my feet on the mattress and thrust upward, driving into her. One hand remains on her ass, the other on her back, holding her against me as I fuck up into her willing body.
She squirms above me, back arching as pleasure builds.
The bed protests loudly beneath us, the frame creaking with each powerful thrust. I'm close too, my release building at the base of my spine.
I want to time it perfectly, want to come when she does, fill her with my seed and claim her in the most primal way.
"Thank you," she gasps against my ear. "For protecting me. For this."
"Always," I promise, the word escaping before I can consider its implications. "I'll always protect you."
Her eyes widen. "Always?" she asks, but before I can respond, her body seizes above mine.
Her back arches sharply, pussy clamping down on my cock like a vise as her orgasm crashes through her. Her eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. The rhythmic pulsing of her inner walls around my shaft is my undoing.
I maintain my pace as she comes, but the tight squeeze of her pussy is too much.
Within seconds, I'm erupting inside her, hot spurts of cum painting her inner walls.
Fuck, I haven't come this hard in years, maybe ever.
Her pussy milks me dry, contracting around me as if determined to extract every last drop.
As our breathing slows, I clasp my hands behind my head, watching as she sits up straight on my still-hard cock. She stretches her arms above her head, arching her back, displaying her body without shame. Sunlight catches the beads of sweat trickling between her breasts and down her soft belly.
She's fucking beautiful. In that moment, I know this isn't just a mission anymore. It's something more, something I can't quite name yet.
Beth rolls off me, lying by my side. My cum leaks from her pussy onto the sheets, a primal marking that satisfies something deep inside me.
"I should shower before your club gets here," she says, making no move to leave the bed.
I place a hand on her hip, keeping her close. "Yeah, we both should. But stay here a minute longer."
She chuckles, a warm sound that I immediately want to hear again. "I didn't expect you to be so protective of someone you just met."
"Neither did I," I admit. "But you're special, Beth."
Her cheeks flush deeper at my words. "What did you mean by 'always'?"
The question catches me off guard. I said it in the heat of passion, and without thinking through the implications. Now, faced with her direct question, I struggle to find an answer that isn't either a lie or terrifyingly honest.
Fuck it. Honesty it is.
"I meant that I like being with you," I tell her, meeting her eyes. "And when this is all over, when you've testified and you're safe, I'd like to take you on a real date. No guns, no danger. Just us."
Her smile is like the sun breaking through clouds. "I'd like that too." Her fingers trace patterns on my chest. "I know we just met, but there's something here, isn't there? Something worth fighting for?"
"Yeah," I agree, pulling her closer. "There is."
In this stolen moment of peace, I find myself wanting to know more about her. Not the witness, not the mission, but the woman.
"Tell me about your family," I ask.
Beth sighs, nestling closer. "Not much to tell. Only child. Dad left when I was eight. Mom raised me alone, worked two jobs most of my life." A small smile touches her lips. "She was amazing, tough but kind. Always made sure I had books, even when money was tight."
"She sounds like a strong woman."
"She was. Cancer took her two years ago." Sadness flickers across her face.
I press a kiss to her forehead, struck by her quiet strength. "I'm sorry about your mom."
"What about you?" she asks. "You mentioned your military family..."
"My grandfather served in Vietnam, my father in Desert Storm. The Davis men serve—that was the family motto." I exhale slowly. "My mother died when I was twelve. Car accident. After that, it was just me and my dad, and the Army became everything."
"Was he hard on you?"
"Strict, but fair in his way. Every aspect of life had rules, protocols.
Bed made with hospital corners. Clothes folded precisely.
Physical training every morning before school.
" I find myself telling her things I rarely share.
"When I joined the Rangers, he was proud.
Only time I ever saw him cry was at my graduation. "
"And now?" she asks cautiously. "With you in the MC?"
I laugh without humor. "We don't speak much anymore. He sees it as a betrayal—of the family legacy, of everything he taught me."
"But you were military. You served."
"Eight years. Three deployments. It wasn't enough for him." I stare at the ceiling, memories surfacing. "After what happened in Afghanistan, when I couldn't follow those orders anymore... he said I was weak."
Beth props herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. "You're not weak. What you did took incredible courage. Recognizing when orders are wrong and having the strength to walk away."
"Yeah. Took me a while to figure that out myself, and that’s how I met the Outlaw Order MC. I was drifting after discharge, couldn't adjust to civilian life. Ended up in a bar fight in Pine Haven."
"A bar fight?" She raises an eyebrow. "You don't seem the type."
"I'm not, usually. Some drunk was harassing a woman, wouldn't take no for an answer. I intervened." I smile at the memory. "Reaper and Ghost showed up just as things were getting heated."
"They helped you?"
"They didn't need to. I had it handled. But afterward, Reaper bought me a drink, started talking. Something about the way he operated—direct, honest, protective of his people—reminded me of the best COs I'd served under."
"So, you joined?"
"Not right away. Took odd security jobs for a few months but kept running into club members around town.
They respected boundaries, protected their territory without unnecessary violence, kept Pine Haven safe in ways the law couldn't." I shrug.
"Eventually, I asked Reaper about prospecting. Been with them six months now."
Beth's fingers trace the outline of a scar on my shoulder. "And the things you've done with them... are they things you can live with?"
It's a fair question. One I've asked myself many times.
"Yes," I answer honestly. "The club operates outside the law sometimes, but never without a code. We don't hurt innocents. Don't deal with children. Don't force women into anything. The criminal enterprises fund the protection of the town and its people."
She seems to accept this, nodding slowly. "And what happens after a prospect becomes a full member?"
"You get your full colors, your patch. Voting rights in club decisions. More responsibilities, more trust."
"Is that what you want? To be a full member?"
I've never questioned it before, but looking at Beth, I find myself hesitating. "I thought so. The club gave me purpose, structure, brotherhood when I needed it most."
"But now?"