Chapter 14
Knox
Make me come.
The words lodged somewhere in Knox’s chest and refused to move.
He was on his knees. Actually on his fucking knees. For him.
His lungs felt too tight, not pulling in enough air.
His heart was pounding so violently he thought it might crack a rib.
He didn’t know how he’d gotten here. Five minutes ago, he’d been ready to tear Dominic apart.
Now he was kneeling in front of him with an aching cock and hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
This was insane.
He should get up right now, tell Dominic to go to hell, and walk out.
He didn’t do any of those things. He stayed exactly where he was.
And the worst part—the part that sat in his stomach like a stone—was that he wasn’t staying because he had to.
He didn’t want to leave. It was that simple and that damning.
His life had been numb for so long he’d started to think that was all there was.
But tonight the world had split wide open.
He’d watched men die and helped decide who deserved it.
And now he was kneeling in front of a dangerous man he was supposed to hate—a man he did hate. He was almost sure he did.
He was losing control of his own life, and some sick part of him didn’t even care. He’d never felt this alive. Every nerve in his body screamed awake, like he’d been holding his breath for years and had finally exhaled.
He could feel Dominic’s stare like pressure against his skin. He could barely think past the ache between his legs and the way his whole body seemed to be humming.
He forced himself to look up. Dominic stared back, jaw rigid, shoulders tight with the effort of looking unmoved. But his breathing was wrong. Knox had spent enough time watching this man to know what control looked like on him, and this wasn’t it.
Knox bit down on his lip and reached for the buckle with clumsy fingers. His hands weren’t cooperating, nerves making everything slow and graceless. He expected Dominic to say something, to mock him, to stop him. But Dominic only watched, eyes glued to every move.
When the buckle finally came loose, he paused, breath caught somewhere high in his chest.
Dominic’s voice came low and even. “Keep going.”
It sent a shiver down Knox’s spine. He forced himself to breathe before working the button open, then the zipper. The sound of teeth dragging down felt almost obscene in the quiet.
Dominic didn’t move. Didn’t help. Just stood there and watched, like he had all the time in the world and Knox was the most interesting thing in it.
Knox swallowed, his throat tight enough to hurt. Then, before he could stop himself—before caution or pride or common sense could get a word in—he hooked his fingers under Dominic’s waistband and dragged both his pants and boxers down in one motion.
Oh, fuck.
Dominic’s cock was bigger than he’d expected. Thicker. Harder. The sight sent a rush of heat through him so abruptly it made him dizzy. His entire body reacted before his mind could catch up. A flush climbed his face, his chest, even the tips of his ears.
Get it together, he told himself.
When he risked a glance upward, Dominic was watching him with dark, intent eyes. His fingers flexed at his side, like he was holding himself back from doing something even more reckless.
Knox dropped his gaze. He couldn’t hold that stare, insecurity creeping in under the want. Dominic seemed to read him without effort. “Using your hands is fine. For now,” he said.
Something in Knox’s chest loosened at that, relief tangled up with the arousal already thick under his skin.
He reached out and wrapped his palm around Dominic’s cock.
The first touch nearly undid him. Hot skin.
Solid weight. Velvet over steel. His breath caught.
For one absurd second, all he could think was that this was real.
That he was actually doing this. His hand tightened reflexively.
Dominic made a low sound—rough and involuntary—and Knox felt it like a physical thing. Something inside him shifted. The nerves didn’t disappear, not exactly. But they were drowned out by something hotter. The need to do this right. To prove something. A need to make Dominic react again.
He moved his hand, slow at first, feeling the heavy slide of skin beneath his grip. His thumb brushed over the thick ridge on the underside before squeezing more firmly. He worked his way back up, feeling every vein, every twitch.
This time, when he glanced up, Dominic’s head was tipped back, Adam’s apple working. The sight sent a vicious ache through his body. His own arousal pressed painfully against his jeans, impossible to ignore.
This was wrong.
It had to be wrong.
So why did it feel—
No.
He tightened his grip and stroked again.
Another sound slipped from Dominic, rougher this time, and Knox’s pulse kicked harder in response.
His hand sped up, emboldened by every crack in Dominic’s composure.
Dominic was trying so hard not to react, but Knox could see it happening anyway. And God help him, he liked it.
A rough exhale.
A muttered curse.
The subtle shift in his posture.
Knox watched all of it with growing fascination. There was something thrilling about this. About seeing Dominic this way. This man who always seemed so controlled, so untouchable. And Knox was doing this to him. That realization only made him want more.
He found a rhythm, his hand moving confidently, but the drag of skin against skin was rough, not enough.
Without really thinking about it, he pulled his hand away, spat into his palm, then wrapped it around Dominic again.
The effect was immediate. Dominic jolted.
“Fuck.”
The word came out deep and rough, almost disbelieving. His gaze dropped to Knox’s hand, then snapped back to his face, pupils blown dark.
Something hot surged through Knox. The slick glide changed everything.
“Jesus, Knox…” Dominic’s voice sounded different now. Less controlled. His expression twisted, something almost angry flashing across his face, as though he resented how much this affected him. “Yeah,” he muttered hoarsely. “Like that.”
Knox’s cheeks burned. The need to please, to see Dominic unravel because of him, was bigger than the fear. He kept stroking, every second winding the tension tighter between them.
He couldn’t help it, his free hand dropping to his own dick. The pressure over his jeans was pathetic relief, nowhere near enough, but he needed something.
He was so painfully turned on he could barely breathe.
Dominic’s eyes caught the movement and Knox froze. Humiliation crashed over him so fast his stomach twisted. He jerked his hand away immediately, letting it fall uselessly to the floor.
“Don’t stop.” Dominic’s voice was hungry and absolutely final. Those eyes pinned him. “Show me.”
Dominic didn’t look away. Didn’t give him anywhere to hide. Slowly, Knox obeyed. He got his fly open. The air was cold against his burning skin, making him suck in a breath. He was already embarrassingly hard, already leaking.
He spat into his palm before wrapping his hand around Dominic again, his other hand jerking himself in uneven strokes. Heat, friction, breath, the slick sound of skin moving against skin—it was all too much.
Every time Dominic grunted, Knox’s hips jerked, pathetic, needy sounds slipping from his own mouth. He tried to hold back, but it was impossible; he’d never been this turned on in his life.
Then Dominic’s hand came down on his shoulder. The pressure of it—so strong, so unmistakably male—sent a spike of something cold straight through the heat.
Oh God.
Panic, bright and profoundly stupid, flickered through his arousal. His brain had apparently chosen this moment to point out that what he was doing was extraordinarily gay.
As if the dick in his hand hadn’t already made that abundantly clear.
A shudder ripped through Dominic’s body. The groan that tore out of him was so deep and raw it cut straight through the panic like it had never existed.
Every thought in Knox’s head vanished. There was only that sound. Only the wild certainty that Dominic was close—and that Knox was the one doing that to him.
Dominic’s fingers bit harder into his shoulder. “Don’t fucking stop,” he ground out, voice rough enough to make Knox shiver. Then, harsher. “Look at me.”
Knox obeyed before he could think about it. Their eyes locked. And something about that nearly destroyed him.
No distance.
No escape.
Just Dominic staring straight at him while Knox worked his fist around his cock.
He stroked faster.
Dominic made a strangled sound, somewhere between a curse and a groan, his grip tightening enough to hurt.
Then he came. Violently. His entire body locked up.
A guttural “Shit—fuck—” ripped from him as release hit.
Knox felt the heat of it spilling across his hand and wrist, some of it even catching his cheek.
But what held him frozen was Dominic’s face. The raw, unguarded pleasure.
That was what snapped the last thread holding Knox together.
His own orgasm hit so suddenly it almost hurt.
A broken sound escaped him as his hips jerked helplessly into his own hand.
It felt endless, like every ounce of tension, humiliation, and frantic need was being ripped out of him all at once.
By the time it stopped, Knox could barely breathe. His whole body trembled.
For several long seconds, neither of them moved. Knox became aware of everything all at once—sticky hands, jeans a mess, fried nerves, and burning skin.
He realized, dimly, that Dominic hadn’t looked away. Abruptly, he let go. The heat drained out of him all at once, leaving embarrassment in its place.
He couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Dominic anymore. Every instinct screamed at him to get up and get the hell out, but his body felt weirdly unresponsive.
Dominic moved first. He stepped back, fixing his clothes with slow, deliberate movements, his expression shuttered again.
Knox swallowed. His mouth was painfully dry. He had no idea what to say. So he shoved himself back into his jeans with clumsy hands and got awkwardly to his feet.
Without a word, Dominic reached for a box on the side table and grabbed a handful of tissues.
Knox frowned, still too dazed to understand what he was doing until Dominic stepped back into his space and caught his jaw, tilting his face up.
Knox froze.
Dominic wiped the mess from his cheek before moving to clean his hands next. Quick. Efficient. Matter-of-fact. The intimacy of it hit Knox harder than it should have.
Dominic still wasn’t looking at him. His jaw was locked, expression unreadable, movements brisk enough to suggest he was trying very hard not to think about what he was doing.
Which somehow only made it worse.
Or better.
Knox honestly had no idea.
When Dominic finished, he shoved another tissue into Knox’s hand.
“Thanks,” Knox muttered. Still no eye contact.
Dominic stepped back, exhaling slowly like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
Knox waited for Dominic to say something, maybe to bark an order or tell him to leave. Instead Dominic only stood there with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looked at Knox, then away, then back again, like even he didn’t know what to do with this.
When he finally spoke, his voice was coarse. “You good?”
The question caught Knox off guard. It wasn’t gentle. Dominic probably wasn’t capable of gentle, but it wasn’t cold, either. Just… awkwardly human.
“Yeah. I’m—yeah.” He risked a glance up. “You?”
Dominic gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah.”
Knox didn’t believe him for a second.
Dominic was visibly restless in a way Knox had never seen before. Then he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I need a drink,” he muttered. “You want one?”
Knox gave a quick nod.
Dominic strode to the kitchen, pulling two glasses from the cupboard and reaching for the whiskey. He poured them both full and slid one Knox’s way without ceremony. “You might want to wash up,” Dominic said, nodding toward the sink.
“Yeah, good idea.” He turned on the tap, scrubbing off the last evidence under the water. He tried very hard not to think about everything that just happened and failed completely.
By the time he grabbed the whiskey and took a long swallow, the burn barely registered.
Dominic was leaning against the counter, watching him in that unreadable way of his. Knox waited for him to say something. He wanted an order, or even a threat. Instead, Dominic broke the silence with a single, flat line. “I’m not gay.”
Knox blinked. Of all the things he’d expected, that wasn’t even remotely on the list. He looked down at his own drink. “Yeah,” he said. “Me neither.”
Silence.
A ridiculous, defensive, profoundly unconvincing silence.
Then Dominic straightened, tossed back the rest of his whiskey, and set the glass down with enough force to make Knox flinch. “Good,” he said gruffly. “That’s settled.”
Dominic was already reaching for the bottle again.
And just like that, the moment vanished.
“Tomorrow, you start shadowing Mendez at the main warehouse,” he said, his tone all business now.
“He’ll show you the ropes. Don’t piss him off.
He’s got no patience for new guys.” He finally looked over, catching Knox’s eye.
“I’ll have a car pick you up at seven-thirty. Be ready.”
Knox nodded, the subject change a relief. “Got it.”
Dominic pulled out his phone, thumbs moving over the screen. “A driver will be downstairs in five. He’ll take you home.”
Dismissed.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
He left Dominic’s loft feeling wrung out, overstimulated, and far too aware of the fact that Dominic had woken something in him that probably should have stayed buried.