Page 40 of Doomed (Blackwood Brothers #2)

BIANCA

I trace my fingers along the smooth surface of Knox’s kitchen island, remembering this morning’s “breakfast.”

I’d been pouring coffee, barely awake in nothing but his T-shirt, when Knox pressed against me from behind. His hands slid under the shirt, finding me already bare beneath.

“Morning, beautiful,” he’d growled, his voice rough with sleep but his intentions crystal clear as he spun me around.

Before I could even respond, he’d lifted me onto the cold granite countertop, pushed my thighs apart, and buried his face between my legs. Coffee forgotten, I’d clutched his dark hair while he devoured me like I was his actual breakfast.

“Knox,” I’d gasped when he finally came up for air, his chin glistening. “What about ? —”

“Fuck breakfast,” he’d said, yanking down his sweatpants. “I want you. Now.”

He’d taken me right there on the island, my back against the hard surface, legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into me. My coffee mug teetered dangerously close to the edge before falling and shattering on the floor.

Neither of us cared.

God, we’ve been insatiable since I moved in yesterday. The hallway when I first arrived. The shower that night. His bed, of course, multiple times. The living room couch. Up against the bookshelf in his office.

It’s like we’re making up for those three months I kept him at arm’s length, all the times I said no.

I’ve lost count of how many times he’s made me come. Twenty? Thirty? My body should be exhausted, used up, but every time he touches me, I’m ready again, wanting more.

Living with Knox Blackwood means sex is literally everywhere. And I’m loving every minute of it.

I’m getting used to the strange rhythm of Knox’s life. One minute he’s all playful smirks and hungry eyes, the next he’s taking mysterious calls and disappearing for “business.” Today was supposed to be about staying in, ordering takeout, and christening every remaining surface of his penthouse.

When Knox returns, the apartment door slams behind him. His jaw is clenched, his shoulders rigid as he tosses his keys onto the entryway table with more force than necessary.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, setting down my sketchbook.

Knox shakes his head, pacing the living room. “Nothing.”

But everything about him screams tension—the way his fingers keep flexing, how his eyes dart around the room, his breathing slightly too controlled.

“Bullshit,” I say. “Something happened at your business meeting, didn’t it?”

His blue eyes flash to mine. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I walk toward him slowly. “Then don’t talk.”

Before he can respond, I press my palm against his chest, pushing him back until his legs hit the couch. With gentle pressure, I guide him to sit down. His eyes widen slightly as I sink to my knees between his legs.

“Bianca, you don’t have to?—”

“Shh.” I place my finger against his lips. “Let me help you relax.”

My fingers work his belt buckle, then the button of his jeans. Knox watches me, his breathing changing as I pull down his zipper. When I free him from his boxers, he’s already hardening in my hand.

I take him into my mouth without hesitation, watching his head fall back against the couch cushions.

“Fuck,” he groans, one hand finding its way into my hair.

I take him deeper, using everything I’ve learned about what he likes. The tension shifts to a different kind as his fingers tighten in my hair.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “God, you’re perfect at this. My perfect little cocksucker.”

The crude praise sends a thrill through me as I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper.

I work him with my mouth, feeling him swell and harden further with each pass of my lips.

His breathing grows ragged, hips tensing as he fights the urge to thrust. I can tell he’s close—I’ve learned his signals in our time together.

The way his thighs tighten, how his grip in my hair becomes almost painful.

“Stop,” he orders, pulling me off him. His eyes are dark with desire as he yanks me up. “Come here.”

In one fluid motion, he maneuvers me onto his lap, his hands gripping my waist under his shirt—the only thing I’m wearing. I sink down onto him with a gasp, feeling him fill me completely.

“God, you feel so good,” I whisper, adjusting to the stretch of him inside me.

Instead of the hard, punishing pace I expect, Knox moves me slowly, guiding my hips in gentle circles. It’s tender, almost sweet—so unlike him that I search his face for answers.

“What happened today?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair as he rocks into me. “Why are you so tense?”

He sighs, his hands tightening on my hips. “Business complications.”

“Tell me,” I urge, kissing along his jaw.

Knox meets my eyes, moving inside me with thrusts that make me moan. “Our supposed new supplier tried to off our trusted one. Ambush at the meeting.”

I freeze mid-movement. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No,” he murmurs, lifting me slightly and sliding deeper. “But all hell is going to break loose now.”

The implication of his words settles over me as pleasure builds in my core. A drug war. Violence. Danger. Knox’s world suddenly feels very real and very close.

“Are you in danger?” I can’t keep the concern from my voice.

His eyes soften momentarily before that dangerous glint returns. “Don’t worry about me, beautiful. I can handle myself.”

But I am worried. As he fills me over and over with gentle strokes, I can’t help feeling nervous about what’s coming. It sounds like they’re on the edge of a war, and Knox is right in the middle of it.

Knox’s eyes narrow as he studies my face. “Stop thinking about that shit. Now.”

His hands grip my hips tighter, fingers digging into my flesh. “I want you here with me. Ride me like a fucking rodeo, beautiful. Show me what that perfect body can do.”

The command in his voice snaps me back to the present. I plant my hands on his broad shoulders and lift myself until just the tip of him remains inside me before slamming back down. Knox’s head falls back, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

“That’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Fucking take what’s yours.”

I roll my hips, finding a rhythm that has us both panting. I bounce on his lap, my thighs burning with the effort as I ride him hard and fast. Sweat beads on my skin, my hair falling in my face as I lose myself in the sensation.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Knox growls, his eyes fixed on where our bodies join. “Your cunt is like heaven, so fucking divine.”

I arch my back, changing the angle so he hits that perfect spot inside me.

“The way you take my cock,” he continues, voice strained with pleasure. “So fucking perfect.”

I increase my pace, grinding down harder, chasing my pleasure as much as giving him his. Knox looks utterly wrecked beneath me, his control slipping as I work him mercilessly.

“Fuck, Bianca,” he gasps, hands moving to cup my breasts, thumbs roughly circling my nipples. “The things you do to me. So fucking good. Better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

His words are spoken with such softness that they sound almost poetic. The look of pure bliss on his face makes me feel powerful.

“Don’t stop,” he commands, though it sounds more like begging. “Ride me till we both break, beautiful.”

Without thinking, I plant my hands on his shoulders and shift my weight, lifting myself up. In one fluid motion, I place my feet on the sofa cushions on either side of his thighs, crouching over him like some wild creature.

Knox’s eyes widen, darkening with lust as he takes in my new position.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, his hands immediately gripping my waist to steady me.

I lower myself onto him, taking him deeper than before in this new angle. The sensation is so intense I have to pause, adjusting to the fullness.

“Don’t you dare stop now,” Knox growls, fingers digging into my skin.

I don’t. Balancing on my feet, I begin to move—no longer the gentle riding from before. Now I’m slamming down onto him, using my thighs to lift myself almost completely off before driving back down. Each impact sends shockwaves through both our bodies.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by my desperate gasps and Knox’s deep, guttural groans. Sweat slicks our bodies as I work him mercilessly.

“Holy fuck,” Knox growls, his head thrown back, veins standing out on his neck. “Fucking milk my cock, beautiful. Make me breed you.”

I increase my pace, clenching around him with each downstroke, squeezing him inside me exactly as he demands.

“Yes,” I pant, feeling myself teetering on the edge. “Give it to me, Knox.”

His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise as I feel the first hot spurt inside me. The sensation of his release triggers my own, and I shatter around him, my inner walls pulsing and milking him for everything he has.

Knox collapses against the back of the couch, his breathing ragged as the remnants of his climax fade. His hands grip my hips, keeping me firmly seated on him as if afraid I might escape.

“Holy fuck, beautiful,” he pants, his blue eyes blazing. “That was incredible. You’re incredible.”

I feel a flush spread across my already heated skin at his praise. Even now, after everything we’ve done together, his raw, unfiltered admiration affects me.

“The way you move,” he continues, voice husky as his hands slide up to cradle my face. “The way you take me. The fucking sounds you make when you come. Everything about you drives me crazy.”

His thumbs trace my cheekbones, and it’s so gentle, contrasting with the crudeness of his words. That’s Knox—all contradictions. Rough yet tender. Dangerous yet protective.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” he declares, loud enough that I’m sure his neighbors could hear if he had any. “A fucking eternity wouldn’t be enough time with you, Bianca.”

Knox’s declaration comes without hesitation or filter—just emotion. He doesn’t just feel things; he broadcasts them, making sure everyone knows exactly where he stands.

But what strikes me most is the vulnerability behind his intensity. Knox wears his heart openly. I can feel it in the way his fingers tremble slightly against my skin, in the unguarded look in his eyes that reveals emotions forming between us.

“I mean it,” he says, softer now, pressing his forehead against mine. “This isn’t just about sex. You know that, right?”

And I do know. Despite everything I once believed about Knox Blackwood, I can feel the love radiating from him—raw, unrefined, and completely genuine.