Page 110 of Doomed

I help Bianca out of the SUV, keeping her tucked against my side. She’s trembling slightly, but her eyes are clear and focused. My girl is stronger than she looks.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice low as we follow the others inside.

“I’m fine. Just processing.”

The safe house is sparse but functional—featuring concrete walls, minimal furniture, and security monitors covering every angle of approach. Vane immediately heads to check the perimeter while Landon fires up the computers.

As Bianca settles onto the leather couch, I shrug off my jacket and feel a sharp sting across my right bicep. Frowning, I glance down and notice a dark stain spreading across my sleeve.

“Fuck,” I mutter, rolling up the fabric to reveal a bloody gash about three inches long.

Bianca’s eyes widen. “Knox, you’re hurt!”

“It’s just a graze,” I say, examining the wound with detached interest. “Must’ve caught me when we were running.”

She’s on her feet instantly, scanning the room. “First aid kit?”

“Cabinet in the bathroom,” I gesture down the hall, impressed by her composure.

Moments later, she returns with supplies and orders me to sit. I comply, watching as she cuts away my sleeve with steady hands.

“You realize you just ruined a five-hundred-dollar shirt,” I tease.

“Shut up,” she says. Her fingers tremble slightly as she cleans the wound.

The sting of antiseptic makes me hiss. Bianca pauses, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath. Without a word, she shifts position, straddling my lap to get a better angle.

“This might hurt,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.

I grip her hips, suddenly very aware of her weight pressed against me. The pain fades to the background. We’re both breathing harder, though she hasn’t done anything more than clean my wound.

“I thought I lost you,” I admit, my voice rougher than intended.

Her hands pause their work. “I’m here,” she murmurs. “We both are.”

Bianca’s fingers finish securing the bandage, but neither of us moves. Her eyes hold mine, trust shining in their depths. The fear of losing her crashes over me again, and I capture her mouth with mine.

“I need you,” I whisper against her lips. “Right fucking now.”

She nods, understanding written across her face. We both need this—need to feel alive, to confirm we’re still here.

I carry her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us. There’s an urgency in our movements as we strip each other’s clothes.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she confesses as I lay her on the bed.

“It’ll take far more than some Russian prick to keep me from my girl.” I hover above her, drinking in every inch of her. “And you are mine, Bianca. Every delicious fucking inch of you.”

When I sink deep into her pussy, we both gasp. I move slowly, savoring the sensation of her body welcoming mine home. The way her cunt has become my sanctuary, as sacrosanct as that may be, is the only home, the only sanctuary that I will ever need. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock, baby,” I murmur, watching her eyes flutter. “So perfect. So fucking tight.”

Her fingers trace the bandage on my arm. “Don’t get shot again.”

“Why? Don’t you like playing nurse?” I grin, rolling my hips in a way that makes her moan. “Because I’ve got some other injuries you could kiss better.”

“You’re impossible,” she gasps, but she’s smiling.

“And you’re fucking beautiful when you come.” I slow my pace even more, drawing out each thrust. “Show me, baby. Let me see what I almost lost.”

In answer, her pussy tightens around my dick, and her back arches.