10. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
River
I gently lower Rayne onto her bed, her limp form pliant in my arms. Her skin is flushed and glistening with a sheen of sweat, dark hair fanned out across the pillow like spilled ink. My eyes trace the contour of her body, drinking in every detail–the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the marks our hands and mouths have left on her skin, the slight parting of her lips as she breathes deeply in unconsciousness.
"I'll clean her up," I murmur to Knox, who nods and settles into a chair nearby, his piercing gaze never leaving Rayne's body.
I move through her apartment with practiced ease, having memorized the layout during my previous visits. The familiarity of the space sends a thrill through me–how many nights had I spent here, watching her from the shadows, imagining this very scenario? And now here we are, the fantasy made gloriously real.
In the bathroom, I fill a bowl with warm water, adding a splash of the lavender-scented soap I know she favors. The gentle floral scent fills the air, reminding me of all the times I've breathed it in while standing unseen in her bedroom, watching her sleep. I grab a soft washcloth and towel before returning to where Rayne lies sprawled across the bed.
Knox's eyes meet mine as I enter, a silent conversation passing between us. The satisfaction and dark promise I see there mirrors my own feelings. We've waited so long for this, planned so carefully. And now that we have her, we're never letting go.
I set the bowl on the nightstand and dip the cloth into the warm, fragrant water. Wringing it out, I start at Rayne's face, gently wiping away the traces of tears and sweat. Her skin is soft beneath the cloth, and I can't resist trailing my fingers along her cheekbone, marveling at finally being able to touch her freely.
Working my way down, I clean her neck, paying special attention to the almost imperceptible marks we've left. A possessive thrill runs through me at the sight knowing we put them there—visible proof that she belongs to us now.
I take my time washing her breasts, admiring how much larger than my hands they are. Even unconscious, her body responds to my touch, nipples hardening as I pass the warm cloth over them. It takes all my self-control not to lean down and take one in my mouth, to wake her with the sensation of my tongue and teeth on her sensitive flesh.
But no, not yet. We have time now. No need to rush.
I continue down her body, wiping away the mingled sweat and fluids from her stomach and thighs. When I reach her pussy, I'm extra gentle, carefully cleaning any of our combined release I missed with my mouth and tongue from her swollen folds. The sight of her like this–used and marked by us—sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. Already, I'm craving more of her, aching to bury myself inside her again.
I almost can't believe this day finally arrived. Only yesterday I was in this very apartment, watching her from the shadows and restraining myself from reaching out to touch her. It took every ounce of willpower not to climb in beside her, to pull her warm body against mine and breathe in the intoxicating scent of her skin.
I let my fingers stroke against the fur of the grey cat, scratching just the way I have learned she likes it. It took more visits than I care to admit—and certainly wont admit to Knox—to win the little feline over without resorting to bribery. I watch Rayne settle back onto her bed and fall back to sleep from where I’m standing in the shadows of the apartment hallway. The soft vibration of the cat’s purr against my palm is oddly soothing, a stark contrast to the electric anticipation coursing through my veins. I knew I didn't just have to learn every little detail about the woman in that room, but also the little feline she called hers. After all, she was my first obstacle, the gatekeeper to Rayne's most private moments.
My eyes never leave Rayne's form as she shifts in bed, her dark hair splayed across the pillow. The sheet clings to her curves, rising and falling with each breath, and I find myself matching my breathing to hers, syncing with her unconscious rhythm. It's intimate in a way that makes my skin prickle.
The cat's ears perk up suddenly, and I feel the change in her posture before I hear anything. The air shifts toward the apartment entry, and I know without looking that Knox has arrived. I give her fur one final scratch before setting her down gently.
Moving silently through the shadows, I retrace my steps back to the living area where Knox stands. His presence fills the room, a familiar comfort that settles over me like a second skin, and our eyes meet in the dim light.
I almost snort out loud as Knox leans down, placing a small pouch on the floor like an offering to a god. The cat eyes it warily for a moment before pouncing, attacking the offering with gusto. It's amusing to see him try to win over the feline guardian, especially when I've already gained its trust.
Stepping closer to Knox, I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves. His jaw is set, eyes dark. I know that look well—it's the same hunger that burns in my own veins, a craving for the woman sleeping just down the hall.
"How long have you been here?" Knox asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.
"Long enough," I reply with a smirk, my gaze drifting back to where Rayne sleeps. "She's beautiful when she's unaware, isn't she?"
Knox nods, his eyes following mine. "Did you...?"
"No," I shake my head. "Just watched. Touched her hair. It's as soft as it looks. And her scent…"
He inhales sharply, and I can see his control wavering. It's intoxicating, this dance we do—pushing each other's limits, seeing how far we can go before one of us snaps.
The cat rolls onto its back, still fixated on the pouch. Its purrs fill the silence between us, a soothing counterpoint to the tension in the air. I crouch down, running my fingers through her soft fur. She blinks up at me lazily, completely at ease.
"You've charmed her little guardian," Knox observes, a hint of admiration in his voice.
I shrug, a smile playing at my lips. "What can I say? I can calm even the most savage beast."
Knox chuckles, the sound low and warm. "That you can."
Standing, I move closer to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
"She stirred not long ago," I whisper, my voice barely audible even in the stillness of the apartment. "But she's sleeping deeply again now."
Knox nods, his gaze drifting toward the hallway that leads to Rayne's bedroom. "Good," he murmurs, and I can hear the restrained desire in that single word. "Did you disturb anything? Leave anything behind?"
I shake my head. "Of course not. You trained me better than that."
His answering smile is sharp, predatory, and it sends a thrill down my spine. This is the Knox I fell in love with—the meticulous planner, the careful hunter. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along my jaw, and I lean into his touch.
"Let's go," he says softly. "We have work to do before tomorrow's shoot."
As we make our way to the door, I can't help but cast one last glance down the hallway. The darkness seems to pulse with potential, with the promise of what's to come. Rayne has no idea how her world is about to change, how we're going to consume every aspect of her life until there's nothing left that we don't touch, don't own.
Shaking off the memories, I finish cleaning between her thighs and down her legs. Once I'm satisfied that I've washed away all traces of our activities, I use the towel to gently dry her skin. My touch lingers perhaps longer than necessary, savoring the softness beneath my fingers.
I take the bowl back to the bathroom, rinsing it out and watching the cloudy water swirl down the drain. As I set it aside, my eyes catch on Rayne's hairbrush sitting on the counter. Without hesitation, I grab it, running my thumb over the soft bristles as I make my way back to the bedroom.
Knox is still seated in the chair, his piercing gaze fixed on Rayne's sleeping form. As I enter, his eyes flick to the brush in my hand, and a small, knowing smile pulls at his lips. He doesn't say anything, but I can see the approval in his eyes, the understanding of what this simple act means.
I settle on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Rayne. Her hair is a glorious mess, tangled and wild from our earlier activities. Gently, I begin to run the brush through the dark strands, starting at the ends and working my way up.
I lose myself in the task, marveling at the silky texture of her hair between my fingers. It's something I've dreamed of doing for so long—touching her like this, caring for her in these intimate ways. The reality is even better than I imagined.
As I work, I tilt her head gently from side to side, careful not to wake her. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I can't resist trailing my fingers along the line of her jaw, down the graceful line of her neck. Even unconscious, she's captivating, and I find myself drinking in every detail of her face—the fullness of her lips, the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the tiny beauty spot at her temple that I want to kiss.
The room is quiet save for the soft sound of the brush moving through her hair and Rayne's deep, even breaths. It's a moment of peace, a chance to simply be with her, to care for her in this small way.
I catch Knox's eye as I work, and the look we share is heavy with meaning. This is more than just cleaning her up or brushing her hair. It's a statement of intent, a promise. We're going to take care of her in every way possible, tend to her every need, whether she knows she has them or not.
As I finish brushing out the last tangle, I run my fingers through her hair one last time, savoring the silky feel. Rayne shifts slightly in her sleep, turning her face into my touch, and my breath catches in my throat. Even unconscious, she's responding to us, seeking our touch.
I move to join Knox and he reaches out as he stands, pulling me close, his hand warm on the small of my back. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving Rayne's sleeping form. "Both of you."
I lean into him, drinking in the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his skin. We stand together, watching Rayne's chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath.
"We should go," Knox murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "We have work to do."
I nod reluctantly, not wanting to leave her but knowing we need to clean up the studio. With one last lingering look at Rayne, I move back to the bathroom, replacing her hairbrush exactly where I found it. My fingers trail over the bristles, still holding strands of her silky dark hair.
Back in the bedroom, Knox is adjusting the sheets around Rayne's body, tucking her in with surprising gentleness. His large hands look almost incongruous as they smooth the fabric over her silhouette. When he's satisfied, he steps back, and I can see the possessive gleam in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of her.
"Sweet dreams, little Rayne," he whispers, voice low and dark with promise. "You're going to need your rest."
We make our way silently through her apartment, pausing only for Knox to retrieve the now-empty catnip pouch from where the cat has abandoned it.
As we descend the stairs to the studio, anticipation thrums through me. The space is thick with the lingering scent of sex and sweat, visual evidence of our activities scattered everywhere. Clothing strewn across the floor, sheets rumpled and stained, cameras still set up on their tripods.
"I'll start with the bedding," I offer, moving to strip the sheets. Knox nods, already gathering up discarded clothing. We pile them all into the small washing machine in the tiny bathroom in the corner and start it. We move efficiently, falling into the familiar rhythm we've developed over years of cleaning up after our... other activities.
Knox wipes down all of the furniture while I straighten Rayne’s equipment. As I place Rayne's cameras carefully on her desk, my eyes linger on the thick bundle of cash Knox had given her earlier. I can still vividly recall the way her eyes had widened slightly when he pressed it into her palm–that flicker of surprise mixed with a hint of awe. It was clear she wasn't used to clients valuing her work quite so highly and I wonder how often she gets clients who pay that much for a single session.
My fingers brush over the crisp bills, a small smile playing at my lips as I remember her reaction. The way her breath had caught, just for a moment, before she composed herself. How her fingers had curled around the money, almost reverently. But beneath that professional mask, I had seen the spark of desire in her eyes–not just for the cash, but for Knox, for me, for what was about to unfold.
If only she knew that we would have gladly paid a hundred times that amount to make tonight happen. The cash was just a formality, a way to maintain the illusion of a standard transaction. But what transpired between us was priceless.
And only step one on the path to changing her whole world forever.