16. Lena #3
He sucks hard, tongue circling, teeth just barely scraping before soothing it again.
I whimper and arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair.
He pays the same attention to the other one, slow and thorough, like he’s starving and in no hurry to hide it.
Every pull of his mouth shoots straight between my thighs.
My hips shift restlessly against him, desperate for more, and he notices. Of course he notices.
His hands slide down, dragging my shorts and panties off in one impatient pull. He lays me back on the motel bed, stares at me spread out under him for one heavy second, then drops to his knees between my thighs.
The first lick nearly takes my breath.
I jerk, hand flying to the blanket, but Knox just grips my thighs harder and opens me wider.
He eats me like he means it, no teasing now, tongue deep and relentless, licking through my slick until I can’t stop the sounds coming out of me.
I whimper, then moan, then I’m full-on shaking around his mouth because he doesn’t let up.
He knows exactly how to use that rough restraint of his here too, holding me still when I try to squirm away from how good it feels.
“Knox,” I gasp.
He hums against me, and the vibration makes me cry out.
One of his hands leaves my thigh and pushes two fingers inside me, thick and slick, curling just right while his mouth keeps working my clit.
My back arches off the bed. My whole body goes tight.
It’s too much and not enough, and I’m panting, thighs trembling against his shoulders, chasing the edge so hard I can barely think.
Then he pulls back. I make a broken sound of protest, and he looks up at me with his mouth wet, eyes black with hunger.
“Need you to take my cock first,” he says, voice low and wrecked.
The words hit me like a pulse between my legs.
He strips fast after that, pushing his jeans down, fisting his cock once when it springs free.
He’s thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip, and the sight of him makes something sharp and hot twist in my gut.
I reach for him immediately. My hand wraps around his length, and his head drops back with a curse.
I stroke him slowly first, just to feel how hard he is, how hot and heavy in my hand.
Then I spread the slick from my thighs over him, rubbing him through it, coating him until he’s shining.
He makes this low, rough sound in his throat that goes straight through me.
I drag him between my folds, just enough pressure to make us both feel it, and I swear he almost loses it right there.
“Lena.”
There’s a warning in my name. Or maybe a plea.
I look up at him and keep rubbing him against my pussy, watching his control fray one second at a time.
He grips my wrist like he’s going to stop me, but he doesn’t.
His chest is rising hard now, his mouth set, eyes locked on where I’m playing with him.
I take the head and press it at my entrance.
My body opens around just the tip and I moan because even that feels so good.
He grips my hips. “You keep doing that, I’m not holding back.”
That’s exactly what I want.
I push him away and roll us so I’m the one straddling him. His hands go to my waist automatically, but I settle over him on my own, guide his cock to my entrance, and sink down inch by inch.
The stretch is obscene.
I gasp, head falling back, thighs shaking as I take him.
He curses and digs his fingers into my hips, but he lets me do it, lets me choose the pace.
I sit there for a second when I’m finally full, just feeling him inside me, thick and deep and real.
My pulse is all between my legs now. The cheap motel room, the danger, the fear still humming in my bloodstream, all of it gets burned down into this one thing: him filling me, me taking it.
I start moving.
Slow at first. Rolling my hips, dragging him through my slick, making both of us work for it.
Knox watches me like he can’t look away.
His hands stay tight on me, but he follows my lead.
I use him, ride him, feel control settle back into my body with every stroke.
Not because he’s gentle. Not because this is soft.
Because I’m choosing it. Because I’m taking what I want from him and he knows it.
“That’s it,” he mutters, voice gone rough. “Fuck, Lena.”
I grind harder, and his whole body tenses.
The control comes back to me piece by piece.
My breathing evens. My spine straightens.
My hands slide over his chest, then brace on his shoulders as I ride him deeper, stronger, until his restraint starts slipping for real.
I can see it in his face, in the way his jaw clenches, in the way his hands stop guiding and start gripping.
Then it breaks.
He flips us over in one hard movement, pins me into the mattress, and drives into me with a force that knocks the breath out of me.
I cry out, but I’m already wrapping my legs around him, wanting it, meeting every thrust. The bed slams into the wall in a cheap, rhythmic knock.
His mouth is on mine, then my throat, then down to my breasts again, sucking one nipple hard enough to make me moan while he keeps fucking me.
It’s rough now, open and filthy and exactly what I need.
His cock drags in and out of me, thick and wet, every thrust hitting harder than the last. I claw at his back.
He kisses me to swallow the sounds I make, then pulls back just enough to watch my face while he drives into me again and again.
I feel split open in the best way, stretched around him, my body taking everything he gives me and wanting more.
Instead of just taking it, I push back. I meet each thrust with one of my own, lifting into him, turning it into something mutual and brutal and hot enough to make us both lose our minds. His eyes catch mine, and he knows. I’m not overwhelmed now. I’m in it with him. I’m fucking him back.
“Yes,” he grits out. “Like that.”
I slide a hand between us and rub my clit, and the first circle nearly sends me over.
Knox swears and thrusts harder, deeper, one hand pinning my thigh open while the other braces beside my head.
I can feel how close he is in the way his rhythm starts to falter, the way his breath comes rougher, the way his cock jerks inside me when I tighten around him.
I rub faster. My body locks up around the building pressure. Every stroke drives it higher. His face goes hard and focused, like he’s trying to hold on for me, and that makes me come apart.
The orgasm hits me so hard I see stars behind my eyes.
I cry out, shaking under him, pussy clenching around his cock in fast, helpless pulses.
Knox groans low and filthy at the feel of it, loses the last of his control, and fucks me through it with a few brutal thrusts before burying himself deep and coming with a rough curse against my mouth.
For a second neither of us moves. Then he drops his forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard, skin slick, the motel room gone quiet except for the sound of us trying to come back down.
I look at him. Really look at him. He seems happy enough to serve me when it’s happening. At least as happy as I expect him to look. He isn’t trigger happy like Havoc, or even quietly intense like Vale. This guy is a mystery.
He took me like nothing matters except my body under his hands, my mouth, my sounds, the way I break for him. In bed, Knox knows exactly how to make a woman feel like the center of the room. Like she’s the only thing worth paying attention to.
And then it’s over.
He barely catches his breath before he’s reaching for his phone on the nightstand.
I’m still warm, still shaky, still half sprawled across the motel sheets, watching him sit up with that same hard, closed-off look settling back over his face like it was never gone.
He checks the screen, mutters, “Should’ve handled business first,” and just like that, whatever was between us a minute ago gets shoved aside.
My chest tightens.
He’s already swinging his legs off the bed, already dialing, already somewhere else in his head.
I pull the sheet over myself and say nothing while he starts talking in a low voice, all clipped words and control, like he didn’t just have his mouth on me, like he didn’t just fuck me into the mattress hard enough to leave me trembling.
He walks a few steps away as he talks, pacing toward the window, giving me his back.
That part stings more than it should.
Not because I expected softness from Knox. Not because I thought he’d suddenly turn into someone else. But because for a few stupid seconds, lying under him, I forgot. I forgot what kind of man he is. What comes first for him. What always will.
Business. The job. Whatever mess is waiting outside this motel room.
Not me.
I watch the broad line of his back, the tension in his shoulders, the way his voice stays calm and steady for whoever’s on the other end of the call. No trace of what just happened. No trace of me. And the whole thing lands wrong inside me, flat and hollow and a little humiliating.
The room feels colder now. Cheap again. Real again.
I turn my face toward the wall and stare at the stained wallpaper, suddenly aware of the ache between my thighs, the sweat cooling on my skin, the silence where something should have been. Maybe a glance. A hand. Something.
Instead, I get the sound of Knox talking quietly into his phone while I lie there feeling ridiculous for wanting more than what he was ever offering.
By the time he turns back, I’ve already started putting the distance back where it belongs.