Chapter 4
KNOX
Jesus Christ.
The second her mouth crashed into mine, every ounce of restraint I’d been clinging to snapped like a dry twig.
Teddie—sweet, shy Teddie—was kissing me like she was starving, her fingers fisted tight in my shirt, pulling me down to her level like she couldn’t wait another second. And I wasn’t about to make her.
I backed her up until her shoulders met the cool metal shelving, caging her in with my body.
She was so damn small against me, soft curves pressing into hard muscle, and the little gasp she let out when my thigh slid between hers went straight to my cock.
I swallowed that sound with another kiss, deeper this time, slower, tasting her—coffee and something sweet, like the cherry lip balm I’d watched her swipe on earlier.
My hands couldn’t stay still. One slid up her spine, under the hem of her shirt, finding warm skin that made her shiver.
The other cupped her jaw, angling her head so I could take the kiss exactly how I wanted—hot, filthy, thorough.
She kissed me back like she was learning on the fly, eager and a little clumsy, and that only made me burn hotter.
Knowing no one else had ever touched her like this, tasted her like this…
it was doing dangerous things to my head.
I pulled back just enough to drag air into my lungs, resting my forehead against hers. Her eyes were huge, pupils dilated, lips swollen from my mouth. Gorgeous.
“Teddie,” I rasped, voice so low it barely carried. The kitchen wasn’t too far away—voices, clattering pans, someone laughing loud enough to filter through the door. We had to be quiet. Dead quiet. “You sure about this? Once we start, I’m not gonna be able to stop easily.”
She nodded fast, breath hitching. “I’m sure. I want you. Right now.”
Fuck. Those words in that soft, needy whisper almost undid me on the spot.
I kissed her again, softer this time, while my fingers found the button of her jeans. She tensed—just a fraction—but didn’t pull away. I paused, brushing my thumb over her cheek.
“I’ll take care of you,” I promised against her lips. “But I need to know—you on anything? Birth control?”
Her cheeks went pink even in the dim light, but she didn’t look away. “Yeah. The pill. Been on it a couple years—for…other reasons. We’re good.”
Relief punched through me, sharp and grateful. “Thank fuck.”
I popped the button and eased the zipper down slowly, giving her every chance to change her mind.
She didn’t. Instead, her hands slid under my shirt, palms skating over my stomach, tracing the ridges of muscle like she was memorizing them.
Her touch was tentative, reverent, and it lit me up like gasoline on a fire.
I slipped my hand inside her jeans, under the lace of her panties, and found her already soaked.
A low groan rumbled in my chest before I could stop it.
She was dripping for me, slick heat coating my fingers the second I parted her folds.
I circled her clit once, gently, and her whole body jerked, a tiny whimper escaping against my neck.
“Shh, baby,” I whispered, lips brushing her ear. “Gotta stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded, biting her lip so hard I worried she’d draw blood. I kept stroking her—slow, teasing circles—until her hips started rocking into my hand, chasing more. Only then did I slide one finger inside her.
Tight. So damn tight, my vision blurred at the edges. She tensed again, breath catching, and I froze.
“Relax, sweetheart,” I murmured, kissing along her jaw. “I’ve got you. Breathe.”
She did, exhaling shakily, and I felt her body soften around me.
I worked that single finger in and out, slow and careful, curling it just right until she started making these tiny, stifled sounds against my shoulder.
When I added a second finger, stretching her gently, she clutched my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“Good girl,” I praised, voice rough. “Taking me so well.”
Her inner walls fluttered around my fingers, and I knew she was close already. I pressed my thumb to her clit, rubbing in tight circles, and she came silently—body shaking, face buried in my neck, teeth sinking into my skin to muffle the cry I could feel vibrating through her.
Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.
I let her ride it out, then eased my fingers free and brought them to my mouth, licking her taste off my skin while she watched, wide-eyed and panting. Her flavor was sweet, addictive, and my cock throbbed painfully behind my zipper, demanding its turn.
I reached for my belt, the metal buckle clinking softly. Her gaze dropped, nervous but hungry, and she licked her lips. Christ.
“Still with me?” I asked in a rough voice.
She nodded, reaching for me with trembling fingers, helping tug my belt open. When she brushed the hard length of me through my jeans, I hissed, hips jerking.
“Easy,” I warned. “Or this’ll be over before it starts.”
I shoved my jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to free myself, wrapping her hand around my cock. Her touch was tentative, exploring, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from thrusting into her grip. I was already leaking at the tip, aching for her.
I hooked my fingers in her jeans and panties, sliding them down her thighs until they pooled at her boots.
She kicked them off, leaving her naked below the waist. Then I lifted her—easy, she weighed nothing—settling her ass on a waist-high stack of boxed napkins so her legs could wrap around my waist.
The head of my cock nudged her entrance, sliding through slick heat, and we both groaned—mine low, hers barely audible.
I pulled back to look at her. “It’s gonna hurt at first. I’ll go slow, but you tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”
“I trust you,” she whispered.
Those three words wrecked me.
I pushed in—slow, relentless—watching her face the entire time. Her brows drew together, lips parting on a silent gasp as I breached that tight barrier. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I kissed it away, holding still, buried only an inch or two inside her.
“Breathe, baby,” I murmured, stroking her hair. “You’re doing so well.”
After a moment, she nodded, hips shifting experimentally.
I slid deeper—careful, controlled—until I was seated fully, surrounded by velvet heat so tight it stole my breath.
She clung to me, nails digging into my shoulders, and I gave her time, kissing her slow and deep until I felt her relax, until her hips rolled against me seeking more.
Only then did I start to move. Short, shallow thrusts at first, letting her adjust, letting the pain fade into pleasure.
She was so tight around me, it bordered on agony, every inch of her gripping me like she was made for this—for me.
Her head fell back against the shelf with a soft thud, exposing the long, delicate line of her throat.
Her eyes fluttered shut, dark lashes trembling against flushed cheeks, and those little puffs of air escaped her parted lips with every careful stroke—soft, breathless sounds she was fighting to keep inside.
I watched her face like it was the only thing in the world. The way her brow furrowed at first, then slowly smoothed as the sting gave way to something else. The way her lips trembled each time I pulled back, like she was already chasing the fullness of me.
I kept one hand under her ass, holding her steady, the other braced beside her head, fingers tangled in her hair. I angled my hips, searching, until I dragged across that spot deep inside her and her mouth fell open on a silent cry—eyes flying wide for a split second before squeezing shut again.
“There it is,” I growled low against her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. I thrust deeper, faster, still careful but losing the battle with control. “Quiet, sweetheart. Don’t let them hear how perfect you feel wrapped around my cock.”
She bit down on my shoulder through the flannel to stifle a moan, teeth sharp enough to mark, and her legs tightened around my waist like a vise, heels digging into my lower back, pulling me impossibly deeper.
Every roll of her hips was tentative at first, then bolder, meeting me thrust for thrust. Her inner walls fluttered around me in tiny spasms, like she was already climbing again, and the feel of it—hot, slick, velvet—made my vision tunnel.
The storage room smelled like her—arousal and cherry lip balm and warm skin—and I was drowning in it, breathing her in with every ragged inhale.
Her hands clutched at my back, nails scraping through my shirt, and I could feel the tremor in her thighs, the way her body was winding tighter and tighter.
I slipped a hand between us, thumb finding her swollen clit—slick, throbbing, begging.
I rubbed in tight, steady circles, matching the rhythm of my hips.
She jerked against me, a sharp, silent gasp caught against my neck.
Her whole body went rigid then—back arching, toes curling against my ass, every muscle locking down as the second climax hit her like a freight train.
I felt it before I saw it. Those rhythmic pulses deep inside her, stronger than the first, squeezing me in long, rolling waves that dragged a helpless groan from my chest.
Her face—god, her face—was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a soundless scream, tears gathering at the corners of her lashes from the intensity.
A fierce, dark flush spread from her chest to her cheeks, and her breath came in tiny, frantic shudders against my skin. She clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her from flying apart, nails biting into my shoulders, body shaking with the force of it.
It was too much. The sight of her coming, the feel of her milking me with every pulsing contraction, the way she trusted me completely in this moment—I lost it.
Pleasure roared through me, white-hot and endless, starting at the base of my spine and exploding outward.
I buried my face in her neck, groaning her name into her skin as I spilled deep inside her, hips jerking helplessly, thrust after thrust, until there was nothing left.
I was spent, shaking, holding her like she was the only solid thing left in the world.
We stayed like that—locked together, breathing hard, hearts hammering in tandem—while the muffled sounds of the roadhouse carried on just beyond the door, oblivious.
I could feel her pulse fluttering wildly against my lips where I pressed them to her throat, could feel the fine tremor still running through her limbs.
Slowly, so slowly, I lifted my head. Her eyes opened, hazy and soft, a small, wondering smile curving her swollen lips. A single tear had escaped, tracking down her temple into her hair, and I brushed it away with my thumb.
I pressed a soft kiss to her temple, still buried deep inside her, not ready to let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“You okay?” I whispered.
She nodded against my shoulder, a small, wondrous laugh escaping her.
“More than okay,” she breathed. “That was…wow.”
I smiled into her hair, chest tight with something bigger than lust.
Yeah. Wow didn’t even begin to cover it.