Page 20 of Fright Night (Twisted Holidays #3)

NINETEEN

KNOX

I hated Julian when she dated him in the past.

I hated him every time I thought of them together.

Hate is too kind a word for what I felt for him last night after she told me what he did. There was a feeling of needing , on a visceral level, to keep Oakley safe. From him, from Dad, from anyone who’d bring her down and make her think less of herself.

Normally I wouldn’t consider myself a violent person, but fuck, she might make me take up the hobby if it means protecting her. Julian’s expression when Cody, Blaze, and I stormed his house might be the second-best thing to happen in life.

Second to everything Oakley is, of course. Her face, her personality, her beauty, her fucking soul .

When I was five, my mom left. Said she couldn’t handle motherhood the way she thought she could and took off.

To a kid, that was very confusing, especially when Dad hardly had time for me, though he wasn’t mayor at the time.

Working in city politics, he hired a nanny to oversee most of my childhood, giving me the female presence he felt was required.

Female presence wasn’t needed. Mom was.

Dad grew more absent the older I got, so I started figuring life out for myself.

Anything that didn’t involve sports—which I hated—getting straight As—which I didn’t—or basically anything from his pre-approved list meant he didn’t care.

Needless to say, he hated that my friends weren’t the sons of his, and that any school sports teams’ tryouts were not happening.

He hated finding packs of cigarettes and rolled joints in my room.

I was never the son he wanted, but pretty quickly stopped caring. Until the few times he used his fists to make his point.

When Jill and Oakley came into our lives, I still couldn’t care.

They were a nuisance. Early on, Jill and Dad proved to be vastly wrong for one another, and Oakley being my age meant suddenly this strangely beautiful girl was everywhere in my life.

When I tried to ignore her existence, friends wanted to know all about her.

And then…I did too. I got protective when they’d try to talk to her. Angry when she smiled at anyone but me, regardless of the ass of a boyfriend she hung around with.

That’s when we started noticing things about one another.

I noticed how our parents criticized her constantly, twisting her into some unhealthy version of herself.

Oakley was one of the topics behind an argument that once happened between me and Dad.

An argument that ended with a cut on my cheek from a stapler he threw in my direction.

That was the first time I felt Oakley’s hand on my skin and she was an instant addiction. There was no drug sweeter; nothing that’d give me a better fix.

From then on, though we despised one another, we had our moments. The tricks were a game. The dislike was real. But it all went away when it came to her diet or my fights with Dad.

Mom didn’t think I was good enough to be loved. Dad doesn’t think I’m good enough to be his son.

Oakley is the only one who showed any mediocre level of care towards me. Even after years away, some things never change.

So yeah, when she noticed the cuts on my hand from beating Julian’s ass, forcing him to take credit advances to pay her back the money owed, and making it known she’s not to be even thought of in his slimy little brain, I figured it’d only be a matter of time before admitting the truth.

I also assumed there’d only be gratitude and we’d move on. Instead, she focused on the implications this could have on me , if Julian presses charges. Which he won’t, since we made sure of it.

She cared about the possibility of me getting in trouble. She doesn’t want that to happen.

She’s held the key to me since we were seventeen, and fuck if she didn’t just unlock the door for good.

Never realized how much I needed that.

So, fuck Halloween. Fuck handing out candy—though seeing her kindness towards the neighbourhood kids is sexy as hell. I can’t handle her looking at me like this, not without doing something about it.

I propel her through her front door and slam it shut before pressing her into it. A hand to her throat angles her head upward and my mouth claims hers, whispering something about taking care of her—words lost in a haze of lust and emotion—and then drag her to the couch.

“Stay.”

I rush down the hallway because as interesting as her pyjamas are, there’s a better option. I find it draped over the end of her bed.

Back in the living room, she’s leaning over the coffee table staring at her laptop. Tear-filled eyes glance up at my entrance.

“Thirty-thousand. Knox…”

“Trickster, there’s only a few words I want to hear from your mouth during the next hour. My name, ‘more,’ ‘yes,’ and ‘please.’ Take that money and open up your business. But for now, as cute as the pyjamas are, strip.”

My perfect submissive obeys instantly, removing her clothes, even her bra and panties. Her skin ripples with goosebumps I quickly take care of by pulling my hoodie from last night over her head and her arms. She smirks, her question asked with a quirk of her brow.

“The moment you put this on, I fantasized about fucking you in it.”

She visibly shivers, but the scraping of her bottom lip tells me there’s more before she’ll let me have my Halloween snack. So before she starts getting serious, I tap her chest, and with help from the couch at the back of her legs, she falls on her ass.

“We should finish the conversation from outside.”

I tug her coffee table into the centre of the room to make more space.

“Thought we did. What more is there to talk about? Julian isn’t your problem anymore.

He won’t get me in shit. If he does, it’s worth it, but if you’re that worried, it’s all the more reason to start what I’m about to before cops haul me away from you again.

” I drop to my knees in front of her and part her thighs, flashing my eyes up to hers. “Trick or treat. Did I say that right?”

A smirk cracks through her stress.

“Teach me how to do this, Trickster.” My hand traces up her leg, over her knee and towards her inner thigh. Fingers brush along her pussy lips until pausing by her core. “I reach into the bowl…” A finger slips inside her, curling, and her mouth falls open. “And pluck a treat, right?”

I pull my hand from between her legs, rip open the cherry lollipop I took from the candy bowl earlier, and place it on my tongue. I lower my mouth to her, swiping the tip of my tongue along her slit.

“This lollipop’s all mine, but was taught sharing is caring. We’ll share, won’t we, li’l sis?” A taunt for old times’ sake and not a kink.

“Oh god.” Her head falls backwards, her hands lifting to grip her breasts over my clothing.

After tasting her orgasm, I’m burying myself so deep inside her and not coming up for air until she agrees to be mine for fucking good. No more avoiding. No more games. It’s her and me from here on out.

I lower my head again, maneuvering the sucker between her clit and my mouth, using my tongue to slide it around her wetness. The mixture of flavours combine for the sweetest flavour my tastebuds will ever get. Never will I go without it again.

“Fuck.”

Alright. I shift the sucker and push it inside her core, her juices coating it. Once wet enough—and when I long to between her thighs again—I pull it out and bring it up to her mouth, tapping her lips once. Without instruction, she sucks it inside her mouth.

“Sharing is caring,” I remind her before diving back between her legs and eating with all the effort from two nights ago when she was prevented from coming. This time, she’ll drench my face, this couch, and my hoodie.

I want her in my clothing always, to make a statement to any asshole so they know who owns her ass. Who they’ll have to go through if they think about her.

My fingers grip her hard enough to bruise, but then she surprises me by bringing her legs up over my shoulders. I part her with my fingers and tongue-fuck her until she’s rocking on my tongue and crying my name.

She’s barely down from that orgasm before I strip my clothes, rest a knee on the edge of the couch and sink deep inside her, enjoying as her head is thrown back, pleasure sweeping her away.

I grasp her throat, wrapping my fingers around her neck until finding her pulse. I like feeling her heartbeat because it reassures me she’s here with me. That she isn’t going anywhere.

“Knox,” she cries, her pussy a vise around my cock.

She’s a stunning mess of tears, drool from the sucker running down the side of her face in a pink line, which I lap up, tracing the line of pink back to her mouth before stealing the sucker back and tossing it to the table behind me.

Grasping her cheeks between my thumb and forefinger, I force her to look at me. Her lust-filled gaze, partially lidded eyes, undo me.

“Agree to be mine.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand. An order.

She regards me warily but another thrust makes her eyes roll back.

“Say it.”

Thrust.

“Be mine.”

Thrust.

Her head lifts. “What?”

Thrust.

Confusion clouds her expression, but she’s immediately swept away by another orgasm. Hiking my hand beneath her thigh, I reangle her to push in deeper, harder, until I come too.

Panting, I slowly lower her thighs, take her face between my palms, and repeat my question—my demand. “Be mine.”

Between stilted breaths, she whispers, “What does that even mean?”

“Date me, Oakley. I’ve waited a while to get back to you, and if you make me wait forever to call you mine, I will. It might seem quick to you, but I assure you, it hasn’t been the case for me.”

“Our parents…”

“Will learn to deal.” Or they won’t, but who really gives two fucks?

Although leaving her arms is a fate worse than death, what I’m about to show her might help her understand and come to terms with it. I reach for my jeans on the floor and retrieve my wallet from the back pocket, which I hand over.

“Open it.”

Frowning, she does, her confusion melting immediately for shock. For the softness that accompanies understanding as she takes in the small photo tucked in the middle.

“It’s their wedding,” she murmurs, stroking her finger over the plastic covering. “This is the photo you chose?”

“Yeah. One of my favourites because it’s only us.

For a small moment in time, I got to hold you without judgement.

When Dad brought me home to pack before sending me off, this was one of the few items I grabbed.

Of everything, this photo was my only connection to you, and I’d be damned if I left without it. ”

She stares at the picture for a long time. Minutes pass before she’s handing it back to me, water lining her eyes. And then she speaks, launching into her own speech.

“I sent in an application to the local college for their Business Admin diploma. You were right, Knox, about how my life is going. When our parents wed, your dad was so nice, and it was pleasant having a father figure in my life. When you left and all his attention shifted to me, I did everything to not disappoint him and seem ungrateful. Working at City Hall’s been challenging; he’s constantly trying to introduce me to officials I, on the event committee, should have no business meeting otherwise.

It was clear early on what he was doing.

The one time I broached eventually opening up a business, he scoffed.

Yesterday, he and Mom were at the event, and following his compliment was something about what my life as mayor would be like, and it hit me; everything you’ve been saying.

When making Julian’s payment earlier, I realized your dad doesn’t deserve to have the public image I’ve been so determined to protect.

He has no respect for my dreams and never once protected you how he should have.

” Her thumb sweeps my knuckles with a frown.

“Every fight between you two stressed me out ’cause it’d end with you hurt. ”

That simple statement means everything and I drag her into my lap, fully intending to show her. Maybe this time without the hoodie, although this sight is something I plan on seeing for the rest of my life.

I bring her nearer, but she pauses with a hand on my chest. “I’m also sending in my resignation letter to quit after Christmas; I typed it up earlier.

Whether or not I get into school, I’m done there.

I looked up other event planners in the area and would rather work with one of them.

Learn from an actual business owner and get away from your father’s influence. ”

“Fuck, Oakley.” In awe of my girl, I sweep hair away from her face to cup her cheek. “I have no doubt you’ll be accepted into college. And getting insight into running a business is smart as hell.”

“What about you?” She rubs her hand over my chest and up to my neck. “Now that you’re home, what’s your life plans?”

Other than fucking her every free minute of the day?

Before I respond, her phone rings, my father’s name flashing on the screen.