Page 33 of Doomed (Blackwood Brothers #2)

BIANCA

A deafening crash jolts me awake. My eyes snap open, disoriented in the dim light. Several women lie sleeping nearby on plush cushions and blankets, our exhausted bodies arranged like discarded dolls after the Hunt’s festivities.

Another sound—a grunt of pain—draws my attention to the left. My heart leaps into my throat.

Xavier has Knox pinned to the floor, his forearm pressed against my hunter’s throat. Knox’s face is turning an alarming shade of red as he struggles beneath his brother’s weight. Xavier’s expression is terrifying—pure rage contorts his features as he presses down harder.

“Xavier.” Mira’s voice cuts through the tension, surprisingly calm and commanding.

Xavier freezes, his head turning slightly toward her voice. An unspoken communication passes between them, which I can’t decipher in my exhausted state. Whatever she conveys with that single word makes Xavier’s grip loosen. He releases Knox, breathing heavily.

My muscles feel like lead, screaming from hours of exertion. Despite my concern for Knox, I can’t summon the strength to stand. All I can do is watch.

Knox sits up, rubbing his throat. His gaze finds mine across the room, and when he sees my expression, his face softens. He smiles at me—a reassuring gesture that makes warmth unfurl in my chest.

He pushes himself to his feet and makes his way over to me, leaving Xavier and Mira to their silent standoff. Without a word, Knox bends down and scoops me into his arms. I feel weightless against his chest.

“I’m fine,” he whispers against my hair. “You should sleep.”

I curl into his warmth, my head finding the perfect spot between his shoulder and neck. “Hold me?” The request slips out before I can stop it, my voice small and needy.

“Always,” Knox replies without hesitation. He carries me to a nearby sofa, settling into the cushions with me cradled in his lap.

I melt against him, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat beneath my ear. Sleep eludes me even as I settle against his chest. My mind races with images from the night—the Hunt, Knox’s possessive touches, the things I did that I never thought I would. Things I enjoyed far more than I should have.

“Can’t sleep?” Knox’s voice rumbles through his chest against my ear.

“No.” I shift slightly to look up at him. His blue mask is askew, revealing more of his face than it should. Those eyes—fierce and tender all at once—meet mine. “What happens next?”

He traces a finger along my collarbone, sending little shivers across my skin. “We rest now. The Hunt is over, but the feast is to come.”

“The feast?” My brow furrows. “What’s that?”

Knox’s mouth curls into that devilish smile that makes my stomach flip. “An exhibitionist’s dream, princess.” His voice drops lower, meant only for me. “Picture this—a grand dining room with a glass table. Each prey sits on its hunter’s cock throughout the meal.”

My breath catches. “During dinner? With... people watching?”

“Not just any people—Ravenwood Hollow’s elite. The most powerful individuals in the city, observing the conclusion of the Hunt.” His fingers trail up my neck to cup my cheek. “The ultimate display of possession.”

The thought should horrify me, but heat pools in my belly, responding traitorously to the image he paints. “I’ve never?—”

“I know.” Knox presses his lips to my temple.

“That’s what makes it beautiful. Every first that you give to me is a gift.

” His arm tightens around my waist. “You’ll be sitting on my lap, feeling me inside you while we eat.

Everyone will know you’re mine.” He nips my lips.

“Maybe even fucking, as often it’s hard not to fuck.

I’ll get you to ride me and give the fuckers a real show. ”

I should protest. I should be scandalized. I surprise myself, only asking, Will… will they be able to touch me?” Much as I enjoyed being shared, being free for all makes my stomach drop.

Knox’s fingers trace my jawline, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch.

“No. No one will ever touch you without my permission and your consent. You can handle the feast,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “After tonight, do you really doubt yourself? You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”

The sincerity in his tone catches me off guard. This isn’t his usual arrogant flirtation or banter.

“You don’t know many women then,” I whisper.

“I know enough.” His thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “None of them are you.”

Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine. This kiss is different from the others we’ve shared tonight—less demanding, more questioning. His lips move against mine with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.

I find myself melting into him, my fingers threading through his hair to pull him closer. The kiss deepens, transforming into something hungry and desperate. His arms tighten around me, crushing me against his chest as though he’s afraid I might disappear.

My body responds instantly to his touch, already conditioned to crave him. I shift in his lap, pressing myself closer, needing more contact, more friction, more of him. His hands slide down my back to grip my hips, guiding my movements against him.

“Knox,” I gasp against his mouth, surprised by my own desperation.

He pulls back enough to look at me, his pupils blown wide with desire. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” I whisper. “I want you, Knox.”

His eyes darken at my admission. “Say it again,” he murmurs.

“I want you.” My voice grows stronger, more certain. “Not just... this.” I gesture vaguely at our surroundings, at the decadence that surrounds us. “You.”

Knox’s breath catches. Without a word, he lifts me in his arms and carries me away from the main room, down a corridor I hadn’t noticed before. We enter a smaller, private chamber with a bed draped in midnight blue silk.

He places me on the edge of the bed gently, kneeling before me. His hands tremble slightly as he removes my mask, then his own, discarding them on the floor.

“Look at me,” he says softly. “I need you to see me when I make love to you.”

Make love. Not fuck. Not claim. The distinction isn’t lost on me.

When his lips meet mine, it’s different from every kiss we’ve shared before. Slow, deliberate, savoring.

I pull him onto the bed with me, our bodies aligning perfectly as we sink into the silk. There’s no rush, simply us, discovering each other in this quiet sanctuary.

With reverent hands, he finds places that draw gasps from my lips as I arch against him. My fingers memorize the contours of his chest and shoulders, touching in compensation for the dim visibility.

When he finally enters me, the connection feels like coming home. I cling to him, our foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. Every movement between us feels like a conversation—an exchange of truths too profound for words.

“Bianca,” he whispers against my lips, my name a prayer on his tongue.

Knox is flush against me, his weight a delicious anchor. His hands are everywhere at once—tracing the curve of my waist, cupping my breast, tangling in my hair. Each touch ignites sparks beneath my skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck. “The way you respond to me, like you were made for my touch.”

Gone is the frantic urgency from before. This feels like worship.

“Knox,” I gasp, digging my nails into his shoulders.

His mouth finds mine, swallowing my moans. “That’s it, princess. Say my name like it’s the only word you remember.”

The tenderness in his eyes contrasts with his wicked smile. He’s still Knox—the arrogant, teasing man who pursued me relentlessly—but he’s unguarded now.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs. “Every inch of you. The way you taste, the way you feel around me.” He rolls his hips, hitting a spot that makes me cry out. “The little sounds you make when I’m deep inside you.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. The pleasure builds slowly, inexorably, like waves ebbing from the shoreline before a tsunami, gaining strength for the intensity of what is to come.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough with desire. “Take what you need from me.”

His fingers find where we’re joined, circling with just enough pressure to have me riding the edge between pleasure and pain, my clit hypersensitive having had so many hours of devoted attention already. I’m trembling beneath him, hovering on the edge of something monumental.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” Knox breathes against my skin. “Your body, your mind, your fierce spirit. Everything about you calls to me like a starved man in need of a feast.”

He kisses me deeply, our tongues tangling as our bodies move together in perfect synchrony. I feel completely consumed by him, yet somehow more myself than I’ve ever been.

The pleasure builds inside me like a gathering storm, every nerve ending alive and singing. Knox’s rhythm is perfect—deliberate and deep, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Knox whispers, his voice husky against my ear. “I can feel you tightening around me, like your cunt is begging me not to stop.”

I can only whimper in response, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Such a good girl,” he continues, his words sending shivers down my spine. “Taking me so perfectly. Knew you’d feel this good from the moment I saw you—all fire and talent wrapped in a package made for sin.”

His lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. “Going to make you come around my cock, princess. Want to feel you fall apart while I’m buried deep inside you.”

I’m trembling now, hovering right at the precipice. Knox shifts slightly, changing the angle, and stars flash behind my eyelids.

“That’s it,” he growls, pressing his forehead against mine. “Look at me while you come. Want to see those gorgeous eyes when you shatter.”

I pry my eyes open to find him watching with intensity. The vulnerability behind his desire catches me off guard, pushing me into freefall. Pleasure washes over me in powerful, consuming waves.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Knox murmurs, his cocky smile softening at the edges. “Like a fucking renaissance painting—art coming undone for me.” His pace quickens slightly. “My Bianca. My masterpiece.”

My name on his lips sounds like a revelation. In the very next breath, my pussy clenches around his cock, sending me into a dizzying spiral of pleasure. He kisses me deeply, swallowing my cries.

“I could watch you come for me forever,” he says against my lips, his usual arrogance tempered with wonder. “I’ll never get tired of knowing I’m the one who makes you feel this good.”

I cling to Knox as he follows me over the edge. A deep, guttural groan escapes him, and knowing that I give him as much pleasure as he gives me makes my heart constrict. For once, there’s no performance. Simply Knox, stripped of his arrogance and masks, coming undone in my arms.

His forehead presses against mine, our breath mingling as we both tremble with aftershocks. I’ve never felt so completely seen by another person.

“We will stay here together until the feast,” he whispers, brushing his lips against mine. It doesn’t sound like a command—more like a plea.

I nod, unable to form words. Knox rolls to his side, gathering me against his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my ear, gradually slowing to a steady rhythm. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare skin.

“What are you thinking about?” Knox asks.

I hesitate, unsure how to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside me. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Cryptic artist,” he teases.

As Knox’s breathing deepens toward sleep, I remain awake, watching shadows play across the ceiling. How did we get here? When we met, I slapped this man for touching my face without permission. I despised his arrogance, his sense of entitlement, and the way he bulldozed through my boundaries.

Yet now, cradled in his arms, I can’t remember why I fought so hard against the pull between us.

The Knox I thought I knew—the shallow, cocky playboy—is only one facet of a man far more complex than I imagined.

Once he stopped throwing up walls, it slowly became clear that it isn’t who he is at all.

He hides it well, but I would lay odds that other than his brothers, I’m the only person who has seen this version of him—maybe ever.

God, what’s happening to me? I came here determined to resist him, to prove I was immune to his charms. Instead, I’m lying here wondering if this fluttering in my chest, this warmth spreading through me, is what falling in love feels like.

With Knox Blackwood, of all people—the last man I should trust with my heart.