25. Knox #2
I’m losing control. Lena looks at me wide-eyed, with a silent plea. Havoc is still wound tight in that loose, dangerous way of his. The room feels smaller by the second, all of us trapped inside the same pressure with nowhere useful to put it.
There’s only one way I can think of to stop all three of us at once.
I move before I fully think it through.
Lena turns when she hears me coming. “What?—”
I kiss her.
Not tentative. Not soft enough to be mistaken for comfort.
I take her face in one hand and kiss her hard enough to cut straight through the panic and the argument and whatever sentence she was about to throw at me.
She gasps once against my mouth, startled, then grabs my shirt and kisses me back with the same immediate heat that has already ruined all of us once.
Havoc goes quiet.
Good.
I pull back just enough to look at her. She’s flushed already, breathing too fast, eyes wide and bright and not shocked the way she should be.
“Knox,” she says, voice thin.
“Get on your knees,” I tell her.
The words drop into the room like a challenge.
For half a second nobody moves.
Then Havoc lets out a low, rough laugh. “Well.”
Lena looks from me to him and back again, and I can see the exact second she understands what I’m doing. Not control. Not really. Redirection. Something filthy and immediate and impossible to mistake for anything but need.
And she likes that. I can see it.
I keep my eyes on hers. “You can say no.”
She swallows.
Then, slowly, she drops to her knees between us.
Fuck.
Havoc exhales through his nose and shifts closer.
Lena looks up at us from the floor, and the sight of her there nearly wipes out the rest of my thinking. Her hair is a little wild, lips swollen from the kiss, expression wrecked and stubborn and hot enough to strip the room down to nothing but bodies.
I undo my belt. Havoc is already reaching for his zipper beside me, grinning like he’s been handed an answer he approves of far too much.
“Open,” I tell her.
She does.
I slide my fingers into her hair, not rough, just enough to guide, and press the head of my cock to her mouth. She takes me in with a soft breath, warm lips parting around me, and I groan before I can stop it.
Havoc frees himself beside me and brushes his fingers over her cheek. “You’re going to be good for us, aren’t you?”
Lena glances up at him while I’m still in her mouth, and the look she gives him is half challenge, half heat. Then she takes me deeper.
My hand tightens in her hair. “Jesus.”
Havoc laughs low. “Already?”
“She’s warm,” I say.
He strokes himself once, twice, then taps his cock lightly against her lower lip while she works me. “Go on, sweetheart. Show me.”
She pulls off me just long enough to breathe, then turns her mouth to Havoc and takes the head of him in with one slow, slick suck that wipes the grin right off his face.
“Oh, fuck.”
That sound alone almost makes this worth it.
She alternates between us at first, learning, teasing, taking enough of one while her hand strokes the other.
She’s not polished. That’s not what makes it hot.
What makes it hot is that she wants it. The curiosity in it.
The greed. The way she looks up through her lashes like she knows exactly what she’s doing to both of us and likes the result.
I slide my thumb over her lower lip when she comes off Havoc again. “Messy.”
She gives me a filthy little look and licks the slick off it before taking me back in.
Havoc groans and drags a hand over his face. “She’s going to kill me.”
“No,” I say. “That’s our job.”
Lena moans around me at that, and the vibration punches straight through my spine.
Havoc steps closer, close enough that our thighs touch as she sucks me and strokes him at the same time. “Take him deeper,” he tells her, voice rough. “Yeah, like that. Good girl.”
I usually hate hearing him say that.
Right now it only makes me harder.
She takes me deeper until I’m pushing the edge of her throat and I have to force myself not to thrust. Her hand works Havoc faster, slickening him with spit from her mouth and the look on his face goes hungry and mean and gone.
I pull her off me just before I lose control. She gasps, lips wet, breathless, and I kiss her immediately, letting her taste both of us on my mouth.
Then I look down at her and say, “Touch yourself.”
Her eyes widen, then darken, and her hand slides between her thighs without hesitation.
Through the fabric first, rubbing herself while she’s still kneeling, cheeks flushed, lips parted.
The room goes dead quiet except for the wet sound of her working us and then the softer, more dangerous sound of her starting to work herself too.
Then she jerks me with one hand and takes him in her mouth, touching herself with her other hand, clumsy at first, then better once she finds the rhythm. I watch her face while she rubs herself through her jeans, then under them, slipping her fingers inside with a gasp that makes both of us groan.
“There,” I say. “That’s where you need it?”
She nods once, not stopping.
Havoc’s voice drops lower. “Tell us.”
Her hand keeps moving between her legs as she pulls off of him enough to say, “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes,” she says, breath shaking now, “right there.”
I grip her chin lightly and make her look up at me. “You’re going to come for us on your knees?”
The sound she makes belongs in a church confession and nowhere else.
Havoc laughs softly. “Knox, you sick bastard.”
I don’t look at him.
Lena’s fingers move faster. She’s fully gone now, kneeling between us, alternating between our cocks while she rubs herself hard enough to shake. Her mouth hangs open. Her breathing is ruined. Every time she strokes us a little faster, a little tighter, she gets slicker under her own hand.
“Look at you,” Havoc says. “All worked up from sucking us off.”
She moans.
“Tell me you like it,” he says.
“I like it,” she says immediately, and then seems startled she admitted it.
I slide my hand into her hair again and hold her gaze. “Do it again.”
She clenches around her own fingers. “I like it.”
“Better.”
Havoc’s hand slides over his cock, setting the pace rougher. “She likes being watched.”
“She likes being told what to do,” I say.
Lena’s hand slips on me, then tightens, and I know I’m right from the way her whole body reacts.
“Don’t stop,” I tell her.
She doesn’t.
The sound of her touching herself gets wetter. Faster. Her shoulders tense. Her lips shine with spit and she keeps looking up at us like she can’t decide which one of us she wants more attention from.
Maybe that’s what finally does it.
Maybe it’s just too much heat in too small a room.
Either way, she breaks with a low cry, still on her knees between us, coming hard while we jerk our cocks over her.
Her head falls forward. Her hand between her thighs goes frantic for three more seconds before the orgasm catches her completely and turns the rest of her to trembling.
Still trembling, body still shaking with the aftershocks of her own orgasm, she reaches her hands up to resume her stroking on both of our cocks.
I come first.
A hard, ugly groan tears out of me as she strokes me through it, spilling over her hand and my stomach. Havoc follows a second later with a rough curse, leaning one hand against the wall to stay upright while he comes over his own fist and her knuckles.
For a moment none of us moves.
Lena stays where she is, breathing hard, still shivering from her climax, her hands slick with both of us and herself.
Havoc laughs first. Low. Wrecked. “Well,” he says, “that’s one way to improve morale.”
My pulse is only just starting to come down. The room feels wrecked, overheated, too intimate, too raw.
Then my phone rings.
The sound cuts through everything.
For one second none of us moves. It rings again, ugly and insistent on the nightstand.
I grab it.
Vale.
Every bit of heat drops out of me.
I answer immediately. “Yeah.”
What comes through the line isn’t a greeting. It isn’t even a full sentence at first. Just breath. Rough, uneven, wrong. Then Vale’s voice, low and strained and distant in a way I’ve never heard from him. “Knox.”
I’m already moving. “What happened?”
There’s a noise on his end. Not traffic. Not normal street sound. Wind, maybe. Fabric dragging. He sounds like he’s trying to stay conscious through the effort of speaking. “I was attacked,” he finally rasps. And then the line goes dead.