Page 57 of A Smile Full of Lies (Secrets of Stonewood #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

ROS

The door slammed behind us with the finality of a verdict passed. Before I could breathe — before I could run again — he grabbed me.

One hand fisted in my shirt at the small of my back, the other closing around my throat, guiding me with terrifying, perfect control.

“Let’s go,” he growled. “You wanted the mask. Now you get me. ”

He dragged me past the living room, through the hall like I weighed nothing, until we hit the open door of his bedroom, and then he shoved me — hard — toward the bed.

I gasped, stumbling, landing on the bed, on my hands and knees, hair in my face, heart slamming against my ribs.

“Take off your clothes,” he said behind me, voice calm, too calm.

It was a warning, but I didn’t move fast enough.

His hands came down hard on my ass: one brutal spank, and then another, the sound echoing off the walls like a war drum.

“I said strip.”

I scrambled.

Dress, bra, panties, everything came off in frantic, trembling motions. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal that made me shake, but by the time I turned back to face him, I was bare.

He’d put the mask back on. That fucking mask.

Purple neon lines flickered in the shadows, casting his broad shoulders and sculpted chest in terrifying silhouette.

“Lie down.”

I hesitated. He was in front of me in an instant, his fist tangled in my hair, dragging me down onto the bed, chest first, pinning me in place.

“You found out the truth about my family and you didn’t tell me,” he said, voice low, barely above a growl. “You snuck around behind my back to confront their killer. You almost died. After you got out of the hospital, I promised I’d punish you for what you put me through.”

His hand slid up my back, over my spine, then down again — slow, hot, unbearable.

“I should fuck your mouth first. Make you gag on how sorry you are.”

I whimpered.

He laughed, the sound dark and dangerous.

“But I’m not feeling generous tonight.”

Then came the nipple clamps.

I saw them out of the corner of my eye when he reached into his back pocket and pulled them out — metal, with cruel hard rubber teeth, glinting in the low light.

“No,” I breathed, panic starting to rise.

He rolled me onto my back, leaned over me, pressed his masked face against mine, and said, “Yes.”

The first clamp snapped onto my nipple, and I screamed .

Not because of the pain. Not just that. It was the shock. The jolt of being owned that completely. That quickly.

The second one followed.

He leaned back and took in the sight of me: naked, wet, trembling, scarred and healed from my stab wounds, clamped and waiting, the chain between the clamps quivering with my movements.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “Look at you. Repentant. Weeping for me already.”

Then, suddenly, he moved like a lightning strike.

Crack.

He slapped my tits. Right across the nipples, the clamps yanked with the motion, doubling the pain, doubling the shame.

I sobbed, and my pussy soaked the sheets.

His hand slid between my thighs.

“So wet you’re making a mess, princess.”

He spanked my cunt. One slap, right on my clit.

I cried out, legs shaking, body curling in on itself. And then he laughed again.

“Not yet,” he said.

He turned me over and spread me wide. My clamped nipples pressed into the mattress, and I whimpered at the ache.

And then I felt him — hard, hot, heavy — dragging the thick head of his cock through my slick folds like he had all the time in the world.

“Don’t you dare come,” he growled. “Not until I say you can.”

He sank in. Slow. So fucking thick I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only feel.

I clawed at the sheets.

He bottomed out, hips flush against mine, and still didn’t move.

“You terrified me when you did what you did, baby… when you went after Thayer behind my back and got yourself knifed for it,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you.”

He pulled back, then slammed back into me.

“You don’t get to do that.”

Another thrust.

“You’re mine. Mine to chase. Mine to fuck. Mine to punish. ”

He began to fuck me in earnest. Hard. Relentless. Dragging pleasure out of pain, forcing my body to obey even as my mind short-circuited.

I was sobbing — begging — coming apart beneath him.

And still he held back.

“Not yet, baby.”

He pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and spanked my pussy again. I screamed.

He braced one hand on the headboard, the other wrapping around the delicate chain between my clamped nipples — just two fingers looping it casually like he was holding the reins of a wild animal he refused to let run again.

“Say it,” he growled, voice shredded with heat and fury.

“I’m sorry—” I choked, my body arching beneath him as he gave a subtle tug on the chain, sending sharp lightning through my nipples that pulsed all the way down to my cunt, even as he thrust into me again.

“Not enough.”

His hips ground deeper, harder — ruthless and slow, making me feel every inch of his thick cock stretching me, punishing me, claiming me.

“You lied to me by omission,” he said, another pull of the chain making the clamps twist, my nipples scream, my cunt drip more. “You risked everything. For what? To prove you didn’t need me?”

“No—” I sobbed. “I just — I didn’t want you to get hurt or go to prison?—”

Crack.

His palm slapped the side of my tit again, the clamps jerking violently with the motion.

“You think it wouldn’t hurt if I lost you?”

He dragged his fingers down my tear-streaked face.

“You think I could live with myself knowing I didn’t stop it? That you died without letting me protect you? ”

I couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

The pain was exquisite. The pleasure was unbearable.

My body was shaking under him, split open with want, with guilt, with a need to be his that eclipsed everything else.

He leaned down, his mask brushing my cheek, his cock buried balls-deep inside me, and wrapped his fingers around my throat, squeezing just enough to make me see stars.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” he whispered again, slow and dangerous, “like your life fucking depends on it.”

“It does, ” I sobbed. “I’m sorry, Knox. I’m so sorry. I was stupid. I just… I couldn’t bear the idea of you killing Thayer and getting locked up for it. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you?—”

He yanked the chain sharply, and I screamed , coming apart in a flood of pain and pleasure that I couldn’t control anymore.

“No,” he growled, not letting up. “You don’t get to come until I say. ”

But it was too late. I was gone. Destroyed. My body convulsing around him, throat raw from screaming, tears streaking down my face as I broke for him.

And he didn’t stop.

He wrapped that chain around his fist, kissed my wet, trembling mouth, and said?—

“You’re mine. From the first moment I ever saw you, you were fucking mine. ”

He let go of the chain and reached down between us, pinching my clit once. Twice. Then he flicked it.

“You think you’ve paid enough, baby girl?” he whispered, breath ragged. “You think I’m done with you?”

I whimpered, and he smiled because we both knew the answer.

His pace turned brutal. No more restraint. No more teasing.

Just the raw, punishing rhythm of a man who’d been on the edge for far too long — who’d chased and waited and watched and ached — and finally, finally , had what was his.

His cock slammed into me over and over, thick and deep, the force of every thrust making the clamps jolt and my breath hitch in sobbing little gasps.

My tits were swollen. My nipples throbbed with pain. My clit was pulsing from overstimulation.

And still he fucked me like he needed it to breathe.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, voice shredded and raw, the words slamming harder into me than his hips ever could. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to fucking do that to me. ”

He reached up and fisted the chain in his hand again. And when I looked up at him, eyes glassy, mouth trembling, broken beneath the mask, he snapped. With a ragged growl, he slammed into me one last time, bottoming out, and ripped the nipple clamps off.

I screamed until I lost my voice.

The flood of sensation — pain, relief, everything — hit like a lightning strike just as he bit my neck, sinking his teeth into the juncture of shoulder and throat as he came deep inside me.

His whole body shuddered, cock pulsing, seed spilling, breath harsh against my skin.

And through it all, he kept that bite locked in place like he was branding me. Marking me as his .

When he finally released the bite, he didn’t move. He collapsed over me, face buried in my neck, arms wrapping around me so tight it almost hurt.

And then, against my skin — quiet, trembling, real — he whispered, “I love you.”

My heart fucking stopped.

He exhaled, rough and broken.

“I love you, Ros. And I thought I was going to lose you. And I didn’t know what I would’ve done if I had.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

I just turned my face to his mask and kissed it, slow and desperate, until he finally reached up — hand shaking — and pulled it off.

His eyes were wet. His mouth was soft. And his arms wrapped around me like I was the last thing he had left in the world.

We were still tangled in the sheets, sweat cooling on our skin, my thighs still shaking from the aftershocks of what he’d done to me — what I’d begged for without ever saying a word.

His arms were wrapped around me like steel bands.

One hand in my hair.

The other curved around my waist, thumb brushing soft strokes over my ribs, over my scar.

Grounding me. Holding me like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting go.

And for once… I didn’t want him to.

I turned my head, burying my face in his neck, breathing him in — cedarwood, leather, citrus, Knox — and whispered, “I didn’t tell you what I was going to do because I love you.”

His entire body went still.

“I couldn’t risk losing you,” I said, voice barely a whisper. “Not to prison. Not to vengeance. Not to anything. I couldn’t live with it if you’d died trying to make Thayer pay.”

His breath hitched.

“I’m not strong like you,” I said. “I’m greedy. I need you. I need your hands. Your voice. Your control. Your fucking presence. I couldn’t do life without you in it. I didn’t want to.”

His hand in my hair tightened — just enough to say I hear you.

“I thought if I did it myself,” I said, “if I just took care of it — then maybe I could keep you safe. Maybe you’d never have to know. But that was stupid. I see that now. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve let you in.”

Silence pulsed between us, long and heavy. Then he moved. He rolled us both until I was lying on top of him, cheek to his chest, his heart thundering beneath my ear.

“You love me,” he said quietly.

I nodded.

“You need me.”

“I do,” I whispered. “More than I’ve ever needed anything.”

He exhaled slowly, his hand stroking down my back, lips brushing my temple.

“Then we’re even,” he said.

That was all I needed to hear.

We lay there for a long time, our breath syncing. The silence stretched between us — thick with everything we hadn’t said until now.

My body felt like a war zone. Used. Owned. Worshipped.

My nipples throbbed. My cunt ached. My throat was raw from screaming and sobbing and begging, and my eyes burned with the ghost of tears that still hadn’t fully dried.

And still… I had never felt more safe in my life.

Knox shifted under me, then gently rolled me onto my back.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing my hair from my face. “You still with me?”

I nodded, barely.

His hand cupped my cheek.

“I’m good. Just… wrecked.”

A dark smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

But there was no pride in it. Just a kind of aching reverence.

He sat up, pulling away just long enough to grab the soft flannel blanket folded at the foot of his bed. He wrapped it around me, careful not to press too hard on the parts he’d marked.

And then he vanished into the bathroom. Water ran. When he came back, it was with a damp cloth in his hand. He cleaned me slowly. Tenderly. Like every inch of me mattered.

He murmured apologies against my skin with every pass of the cloth — even as I whispered back, don’t you dare — even as I curled into the touch like I couldn’t stand to be without it.

When he was finished, he pressed a kiss against my inner thigh and murmured, “I’ll be right back.”

He padded out of the bedroom and returned with a bottle of water. Then he pressed the water into my hand.

“Drink.”

I did. Obedient, even now.

When the bottle was empty, he pulled me against him again, cradling me in his lap like I was made of glass.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly, nose in my hair. “I meant what I said. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I know.”

He kissed my temple. My cheek. My lips.

“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered. “Not after this. Not ever.”

“I don’t want you to.”

He tucked the blanket tighter around me, his arms holding me like armor.

“I’ve got you now,” he said. “And I’m going to take care of you. Always.”

And I believed him. Because he already had.

The silence returned, not cold, not distant. Just… heavy. Like everything had finally settled… except what was still lodged in my chest.

I tucked my face under his jaw and whispered, “I wanted you, Knox. Even when I was with Thayer.”

His whole body tensed beneath me, but he didn’t speak. His arms tightened around me.

“I felt so fucking guilty for it,” I breathed. “You were his best friend. And I — I couldn’t stop it. You made me feel safe. Seen. And every time you looked at me like I was more … I wanted you.”

Even when he wore the mask, even when he chased me, I should’ve known it was him. I think maybe some part of me did.

Still no answer. But his hand slid into my hair, and when I finally lifted my gaze to meet his, eyes glassy and wide, he wasn’t angry.

He was wrecked. So, I gave him everything I had left in me.

“I think I was always yours,” I whispered. “Even when I thought it was wrong.”

“You were,” he said. “And you still fucking are.”