Page 23 of Doomed (Blackwood Brothers #2)

BIANCA

I press my back against the cold stone wall, struggling to control my breathing.

The blue silk dress clings to my skin, the material so thin it feels like wearing nothing at all.

My fingers trace the edge of the porcelain mask covering the upper half of my face as I try to memorize the path I’ve taken through this elaborate maze.

Left, right, right, left, straight for three intersections, then right again.

The walls tower above me, creating disorienting shadows. I’ve been wandering for what feels like hours, but more likely only twenty minutes. So far, I’ve encountered no one else—not the other women serving as “prey” tonight, nor any of the hunters.

My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation, a reaction I don’t want to acknowledge. The memory of Knox’s texts last night flashes through my mind—those pictures of his cock, thick and hard. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ignore the heat building between them.

“Focus, Bianca,” I whisper to myself. “This isn’t about desire. It’s about survival.”

But even as I say it, I know I’m lying to myself. Part of me wants him to find me, wants to feel him fucking me the way he promised he would.

A sudden, deafening horn blares through the night, making me jump. The sound echoes off the stone walls, reverberating through me. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

The hunters have been released.

Knox is in here now, searching for me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. My pussy throbs, already soaking wet despite my fear—or more honestly, because of it. The combination of danger and desire is intoxicating.

I push off from the wall, my legs trembling slightly beneath me. I need to keep moving. Standing still means getting caught, and while part of me craves that capture, another part demands I make him work for it. If he gets to have me, he has to earn it.

“Catch me if you can,” I breathe, gathering the skirt of my dress in my hands as I take off running deeper into the labyrinth.

Suddenly, a low rumble reverberates through the ground beneath my feet. The vibration travels up my legs, and I freeze, instinctively pressing my palm against the nearest wall for balance.

“What the?—”

The stone shifts beneath my touch. Not subtly, but with deliberate purpose. I jerk my hand back as if burned, watching in horror as the entire wall begins to slide sideways with a grinding noise that echoes through the pathway I’m standing in.

“They’re moving,” I whisper, realization dawning with sickening clarity. “The fucking walls are moving.”

My breath comes faster now, panic clawing at my chest. The hunters know. They must know. Why else would Xavier have smiled that cold, calculating smile when explaining the rules? Why else would Knox have looked so confident?

We had a head start, but it means nothing if they understand the maze’s secrets.

I spin around, heart hammering against my ribs, suddenly desperate to retrace my steps. Maybe if I go back the way I came, I can find another path, one less predictable.

But as I turn, the wall behind me slides shut with finality, blocking my escape route with six feet of solid stone.

“Fuck!” The word tears from my throat before I can stop it, bouncing off the walls that are actively erasing any hope I had of a fair game.

The only exit, the only safety now, is through.

There are fifteen men. What if Knox doesn’t find me first?

What the hell have I done? I slam my fist against the newly formed barrier, accomplishing nothing but pain shooting through my knuckles.

I’m being herded like an animal.

A distant laugh echoes through the maze—male, confident, predatory. I can’t tell if it’s Knox or one of the other hunters. Still, a wave of contradictory sensations hit me: fear and arousal flow through my veins until I can barely distinguish between them.

The walls continue to shift, herding me down a narrow corridor that seems to be the only path left. My breath comes in short, panicked gasps as I realize I have no choice but to follow where the maze leads me.

The corridor widens suddenly, opening into a circular room that makes my artistic sensibilities and my survival instincts scream in equal measure.

The space is dimly lit with blue-tinted lights that cast everything in an ethereal glow.

In the center stands a bed—if you could call it that—more like an altar of depravity.

Black silk sheets stretch across a massive circular platform, surrounded by ornate metal posts with chains and cuffs dangling from various heights.

The walls are lined with glass cases displaying items that make my cheeks burn—whips, blindfolds, clamps, and toys I’ve only seen in the darkest corners of the internet. Each item is arranged with meticulous care, like exhibits in a museum.

What catches my eye most is the ceiling—a massive mirror reflects everything below, ensuring whoever ends up on that bed will be forced to watch their own submission from every angle.

“Jesus,” I whisper, backing away instinctively.

But as I retreat, a mechanical click echoes through the room. The entrance I came through slides shut with a definitive thud, sealing me inside this chamber.

My heart hammers against my ribs as another door on the opposite side of the room slides open.

And there he stands—Knox Blackwood, his blue mask covering the lower half of his face.

He’s dressed in black leather, which clings to his muscular frame like a second skin.

The sight of him standing there, his eyes roaming my body hungrily, makes my pulse race.

The emotions flooding my system have become so frenzied that I can no longer distinguish one from the next.

“Found you,” he says, his voice low and dangerous as the door he entered from seals shut.

I back away until my shoulders hit the wall behind me, my chest heaving with each rapid breath. The porcelain mask suddenly feels too tight against my face, trapping the heat of my flushed skin.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Knox,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tremor in my limbs.

He tilts his head, eyes crinkling above his blue mask in what I know is a smirk. “Now why would I do that?” His voice is smooth as silk, playful even as he stalks toward me. “When your pussy is weeping for my cock?”

My face burns hot at his crude words. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can smell it a fucking mile off, Bianca.” He closes the distance between us, not touching me yet, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. “So wet and needy to be filled.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, pressing my back harder against the wall as if I could somehow disappear through it.

Knox chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.” He places one hand on the wall beside my head, leaning in. “But I want to hear you beg for it first.” His fingers trace a feather-light path down my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Tell me what you want, Bianca.”

“Nothing from you,” I manage, but my voice comes out breathless and weak.

Knox presses against me, the hard length of him evident through his leather pants. My body responds traitorously, a rush of wetness between my thighs making me squeeze them together.

“Your body says otherwise.” His hand cups my face with surprising gentleness, thumb brushing across my lower lip. “I’m not going to force you. I want you to ask for it.” His other hand skims down my side, resting on my hip. “I want you to say, ‘Please fuck me, Knox.’“

A whimper escapes before I can stop it. His touch awakens every nerve ending, sending waves of sensation crashing through me.

“Four little words,” he murmurs. “And I’ll give you everything you’ve been fantasizing about.”

I jerk my head away from his touch, summoning what little resolve I have left.

“You think I’m going to give in after three months of this cat-and-mouse bullshit?

” The words come out stronger than I feel.

“You’ve been chasing me since the moment we met, Knox.

What makes you think tonight changes anything?

All of your push and pull bullshit, where you try to convince me you’re human, only to do a complete one-eighty in the next breath, that shows you are, in fact, just that.

An asshole. And you think that could ever make me want to fuck you? ”

“Because tonight, there’s nowhere to run.”

I laugh. “So what? You think trapping me in some sex dungeon is going to make me spread my legs and beg?”

“No.” His hand slides from my hip to my thigh, playing with the hem of my dress. “But that delicious tremor whenever I touch you speaks volumes.”

I slap his hand away. “Keep dreaming, Blackwood. A physical reaction isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“Always so fucking defiant.” He doesn’t sound angry—he sounds delighted. “It’s what I love about you.”

“I’m not yours to love,” I snap back.

Knox steps back slightly. “Not yet.”

Before I can respond, he drops to his knees before me, the movement so unexpected I freeze. His hands slide up my calves, under my dress, moving so agonizingly slow up my thighs that it makes me want to scream.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out embarrassingly breathless.

“Showing you what you’ve been missing.” His fingers reach the apex of my thighs, and his eyes widen when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear. “Fucking hell, Bianca. Were you planning to get caught?”

“No,” I lie, even as heat floods my face.

Knox’s laugh is dark and knowing. He lifts the hem of my dress, exposing me to his hungry gaze. I should stop him. But I remain frozen, my back pressed against the wall, my heart hammering in my chest.

“No panties, dripping wet... tell me again how you don’t want this.” He leans forward, so close I can feel his breath against my pussy. But he doesn’t touch me, he pulls his mask down around his neck and simply blows a cool stream of air against my swollen clit.

I gasp, my hips jerking involuntarily toward his mouth. The teasing sensation is maddening—so close to what I need but still too fucking far away.

“Fuck,” I whimper, my fingers glide through his hair, fisting the soft strands, unable to decide if I want to push him away or pull him closer.

Knox’s fingers play at the edge of my dress,

“Tell me, Bianca,” he says huskily. “Do you want me to eat that pussy like it’s my last meal?” He slides his hands up my thighs, teasingly close but not touching the ache that I desperately need soothed. “Because if you do, I need to hear you beg for it. Beg me to make you come.”

My breath catches in my throat. The hunger in his eyes makes my knees weak, and I’m painfully aware of how wet I am, how desperately I want his mouth on me. But begging Knox Blackwood? Giving him that satisfaction after months of his relentless pursuit?

“Fuck you,” I whisper, but there’s no conviction behind it.

“That’s not begging,” he says, his thumbs making small circles on my inner thighs. “Try again.”

I bite my lip, fighting the words that want to spill out. My pride wages war with my desire, but the throbbing between my legs is becoming unbearable. Knox waits patiently, watching me crumble.

“Please,” I whisper.

“Please what?” He leans closer, his breath teasing my aching flesh. “I want to hear exactly what you want me to do.”

My fingers tighten in his hair. “Please eat my pussy,” I say, my voice trembling with need and embarrassment. “Make me come. Please, Knox.”

A triumphant smile spreads across his face as he looks up at me. “Now was that so hard?”

I clench my jaw, shame and desire warring inside me. I’m about to tell him to go to hell, to take back my moment of weakness?—

But before I can form the words, his mouth is on me, hot and demanding. His tongue flicks against my clit with devilish precision, followed by a sucking sensation so intense it’s almost unbearable.

“Oh god!” I cry out.

The orgasm hits like lightning—immediate, overwhelming, electric.

My legs buckle as my release tears through me.

Just as I think I’m going to crumble to the floor, Knox wraps a hand around the back of my left thigh, lifting it gently to secure it over his shoulder.

The angle gives him complete access to torment me, but also secures my ability to remain against the wall.

My fingers clutch his hair desperately as I ride out the most intense climax of my life.

I’ve never come this fast before, never from seconds of contact.

I tremble uncontrollably as pleasure crashes through me in relentless waves, wetness flooding between my thighs.

Knox makes a greedy growl against me, his hands gripping my hips to help keep me upright as he devours everything I give him, his tongue merciless in its pursuit.

When the shuddering finally subsides, I’m left gasping, clinging to him for support because my legs have transformed into jelly. Knox pulls back enough to meet my gaze, my arousal glistening on his lips and chin.

“You’re such a good fucking girl for me,” he growls. “So sensitive. So perfect.” His thumb brushes over my still-throbbing clit, making me jerk. “Coming so goddamn fast because like me, you’ve been wanting this since the moment we met.”

I want to deny it, to preserve some shred of dignity, but I know at this point that ship has sailed. There’s no more denying what I crave from him. The truth is written in my trembling thighs and the wetness all over his face.