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“Keep going,” I rasped.
Knox stroked the backs of my thighs. “That’s not how edging works, baby. Now be a good girl and take whatever I give you.”
So I did.
He coaxed me to the precipice of bliss—and then made me wait. Over and over again until my eyes were crossed and I couldn’t form coherent words.
And when I finally came around his fingers and watched Knox lift them to his lips?—
Several knocks on the door. “Housekeeping!”
Knox snarled, “Fuck!” and bolted to flip the swing bar lock. “Later,” he barked at the poor housekeeper.
I heard her offer a flustered apology, faint through the door. Knox stormed back, grabbed my hips, and lifted my ass off the bed to hook my legs over his shoulders. I yelped.
“No one fucking interrupts me worshipping my women,” Knox growled.
Then he ate me out like he was starving.
The next thing I knew, it was morning.
Sunlight filtered in through the gauzy curtains, and the AC hummed. It was way too bright and way too cold.
I groaned, rolling over. The sheets dragged across my tender skin, and it felt like I had rugburn. My thighs ached—deep, fucked-out sore—and my core pulsed with that brutal blend of pleasure and sting. I pressed my legs together, like I could trap the aftershocks still rolling through me even hours later.
“Rise and whimper, my dinner feast.”
I didn’t even react. I just buried my face in the pillow, smelling traces of him under the lavender soap and hotel smell.
“Gotta get up, baby girl,” Knox said in a lower, raspier voice, climbing on the bed to squeeze my ass. “We’re plotting your father’s death today, remember?”
Normal people would have thought that was really fucked up, but that just sounded like a lovely way to spend the morning.
“You wrecked my fucking legs,” I mumbled.
Knox pulled back the covers. Cold air rushed in and pebbled my skin. I curled into a ball, whining and swatting at him. Then he warmed my cheek with a kiss and a nuzzle. “You weren’t complaining last night when I was licking you through your third orgasm.”
“I’m in my thirties,” I said. “This body’s on a recovery plan now, asshole.”
“Oh, my poor baby. Admitting she’s human. Up, up, Care, you can sleep after your dad is buried six feet under.”
Knox took my limp wrists and pulled me up like a ragdoll. I moaned and tried to wriggle free, but he was too strong. Then I was on my knees, and he was hugging me, repeatedly kissing my temple.
“Either you wake up,” he said slowly in my ear, “or I stuff your mouth so full of cock you forget what tired feels like.”
That woke me up like he doused me with ice water. “Nathaniel!” I barked, twisting in his grip to stare at him.
Knox winked. “That’s my name. Please wear it out.”
I shoved at his chest. “Wash your mouth out with soap, you horny-brained bastard.”
He scooped me right off the bed and set me on my feet, steadying me with a gentleness that belied his banter. “I can’t wait to see you in that outfit you picked. Even if you always look better naked.”
I scrubbed my face with my hands and slipped from his grasp to go to the bathroom. I sensed him following me. “If you want to watch me pee, I will push you down a flight of stairs.”
“Understood, baby. I was hoping for a shower together, but not that kind.”
“After my dad’s dead.” I shut the door in his face.