Page 31 of Knox (The Devil’s Luck MC #6)

CAROLINE

I t had been easier to relinquish control to Knox than I thought it would be.

Maybe I had just been holding on to it, on to the old me, so tightly that my fingers cramped, and I just gave up. Now I had nothing to grab on to, and it felt so fucking good.

I put my trust in Knox, and he didn’t betray me. He didn’t treat me like I was just a piece of meat for pleasure or sneak out while I slept. He didn’t bruise me or taunt me. He promised he would take care of me, and he did . Men often didn’t keep promises, especially those made in the heat of sex.

But Knox did.

Major green fucking flag.

After we confessed we both wanted each other, Knox made good on his promise.

We didn’t have rope, ribbons, or anything else that could act as bondage—just getting creative with my panties.

He twisted them around my wrists in a way that bound them behind my back. I could escape them if I wanted to—but I didn’t want to.

I went pliable for him, wrists tied, lying on my back on the bed. Knox stood at the edge of it. Fuck, he was the perfect male specimen.

He spread my legs, giving himself a front-row seat to my pussy. He had the audacity to lick his lips.

“Shit,” I breathed.

I was doomed.

Without breaking eye contact, Knox knelt. He pinned me down by my ankles—then yanked me toward him until his face was just inches from my already damp folds. I went to stifle a gasp but couldn’t—I was tied up, duh.

“You look so good, baby,” Knox purred. I tried to close my twitching legs. “No, no. None of that. You’re at my mercy, spitfire. Don’t make me blindfold you, too.”

“With what, your underwear?” I retorted before thinking that through. Knox raised a questioning eyebrow. I glared. “Hell no. Just lick me alr?—”

I didn’t get to finish the word before Knox’s tongue dragged across the inside of my thigh.

Fuck.

I couldn’t move any of my limbs, as they were tied and pinned. I could only squirm as Knox’s tongue did all the work. Licking, teasing, flicking, dragging… Saying things that made me want to crush his head between my thighs.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” he murmured, watching me watch him. “You can come early. It’s okay. I can feel it. Come for me, Caroline.”

I bit my lip so hard I thought I drew blood. “Nate?—”

He licked me in one slow, long drag, and I felt myself losing control. I started to feel the urge to take the lead, but when he started kissing my lower stomach, I went limp with disappointment—no, with longing.

“Keep going,” I rasped.

Knox stroked the backs of my thighs. “That’s not how edging works, baby. Now be a good girl and take whatever I give you.”

So I did.

He coaxed me to the precipice of bliss—and then made me wait. Over and over again until my eyes were crossed and I couldn’t form coherent words.

And when I finally came around his fingers and watched Knox lift them to his lips?—

Several knocks on the door. “Housekeeping!”

Knox snarled, “ Fuck !” and bolted to flip the swing bar lock. “Later,” he barked at the poor housekeeper.

I heard her offer a flustered apology, faint through the door. Knox stormed back, grabbed my hips, and lifted my ass off the bed to hook my legs over his shoulders. I yelped.

“No one fucking interrupts me worshipping my women,” Knox growled.

Then he ate me out like he was starving.

The next thing I knew, it was morning.

Sunlight filtered in through the gauzy curtains, and the AC hummed. It was way too bright and way too cold.

I groaned, rolling over. The sheets dragged across my tender skin, and it felt like I had rugburn.

My thighs ached—deep, fucked-out sore—and my core pulsed with that brutal blend of pleasure and sting.

I pressed my legs together, like I could trap the aftershocks still rolling through me even hours later.

“Rise and whimper, my dinner feast.”

I didn’t even react. I just buried my face in the pillow, smelling traces of him under the lavender soap and hotel smell.

“Gotta get up, baby girl,” Knox said in a lower, raspier voice, climbing on the bed to squeeze my ass. “We’re plotting your father’s death today, remember?”

Normal people would have thought that was really fucked up, but that just sounded like a lovely way to spend the morning.

“You wrecked my fucking legs,” I mumbled.

Knox pulled back the covers. Cold air rushed in and pebbled my skin. I curled into a ball, whining and swatting at him. Then he warmed my cheek with a kiss and a nuzzle. “You weren’t complaining last night when I was licking you through your third orgasm.”

“I’m in my thirties,” I said. “This body’s on a recovery plan now, asshole.”

“Oh, my poor baby. Admitting she’s human. Up, up, Care, you can sleep after your dad is buried six feet under.”

Knox took my limp wrists and pulled me up like a ragdoll. I moaned and tried to wriggle free, but he was too strong. Then I was on my knees, and he was hugging me, repeatedly kissing my temple.

“Either you wake up,” he said slowly in my ear, “or I stuff your mouth so full of cock you forget what tired feels like.”

That woke me up like he doused me with ice water. “Nathaniel!” I barked, twisting in his grip to stare at him.

Knox winked. “That’s my name. Please wear it out.”

I shoved at his chest. “Wash your mouth out with soap, you horny-brained bastard.”

He scooped me right off the bed and set me on my feet, steadying me with a gentleness that belied his banter. “I can’t wait to see you in that outfit you picked. Even if you always look better naked.”

I scrubbed my face with my hands and slipped from his grasp to go to the bathroom. I sensed him following me. “If you want to watch me pee, I will push you down a flight of stairs.”

“Understood, baby. I was hoping for a shower together, but not that kind.”

“After my dad’s dead.” I shut the door in his face.

We did end up showering together. Then we got dressed, grabbed breakfast from the buffet downstairs, and then returned to cuddle on the bed. Our conversation, however, was anything but romantic.

Knox’s borrowed phone buzzed. It was Jackson. Knox put him on speakerphone but didn’t tell his president.

“First part of the plan is in motion,” he said gruffly. “Drink ourselves under the table at the Well under the pretense of mourning our fallen brother.”

I glanced at the clock. Ten in the morning. Right on time.

“Thanks, Jack,” Knox said with equal professionalism, then hung up.

Things were still tense between them.

Knox turned to me, uncharacteristically serious. “The ball’s rolling, Care.”

I nodded.

“No going back,” he said pointedly.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get me to reconsider my own plan? I don’t want to back out. I want the ball to go through my father’s chest and obliterate his heart.”

“Just making sure.”

“I want this to end once and for all and reclaim my life.” I sat up on my knees, facing him, feeling a sudden rush of defiance sweeping me up like a leaf in a current.

“I have to make things right in Reno. I have to eradicate the danger to it—my father. I helped him get into his position of power,” I continued fiercely.

“I helped him strongarm local businesses and use them to smuggle cash. I intimidated shop owners into paying me to protect their business license and property from the Wolverines. I’ve drawn too much blood for him. I’m done. I’m done.”

I swallowed hard, fighting the burning in my eyes. “I can’t ever take it back or make it right for the Devils, but I can stop the cycle from continuing.”

Two hours later, my mouth was swollen from kissing Knox until it physically hurt to continue, and it was time for step two: anonymously call the police to report that a gang—the Devil’s Luck—was intoxicated and causing problems at a local bar.

“On our way, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I’m glad we have good people like you protecting our beautiful city.”

I hung up. So far, so good. Not that it was much yet.

Knox shoved his phone in his back pocket. “Uber called. Ready to go, spitfire?”

I took his hand when he offered it, something I never thought I would do in my life. “As much as I can be.”

“Good answer. I’ve got you no matter what.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked as we walked down the hall. “You gonna lick them to death?”

Knox wrinkled his nose. “ You need to wash your mouth out, woman. And this tongue is yours and yours alone.”

The Uber driver was some older lady charmed by Knox’s good looks, who expressed worry about his bruises.

“Just got caught in a bar fight.” He chuckled. “Typical Reno.”

She responded with something bashful, laughing like a high school girl. My teeth grated together. Then I realized I was jealous of some try-hard cougar in a Subaru. This was the least of my worries.

When we got to the Well, the lady looked like she wanted to give Knox her number. One glare from me, though, made her pale.

Knox chuckled and pulled me along inside. “Down, kitty. The Wolverines are most likely on their way. We can’t be jealous of old ladies.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Baby,” he said like it was obvious.

“Shut up.”

Knox held the door open for me. The bar was purposefully busy, and all six members of the Devil’s Luck were integrated somewhere among the patrons.

I caught Jackson’s gaze immediately from where he was at the bar with Sam. None of the women were present. Probably stashed away somewhere safe. Sam was there only for pretense.

“Hey,” Jackson said shortly.

Knox gave a ‘sup nod. “Hey. Mason and Jameson on duty?”

“Yeah. You called the cops?”

“Yes,” I reported.

Jackson looked at me like he was disgusted that I answered. I honestly didn’t care. He could hate me all he wanted. We just needed to work together to finish this job—to finish Walter Bates’s reign of terror.

“Hi, Knox. Hi, Caroline.” Sam was far friendlier, both hands on her belly. She didn’t look cheery, though. She was worried about her baby daddy risking his life yet again, and for a plan this dangerous.

“Time to get out of here, babe,” Jackson said, getting to his feet and helping Sam up.

She stood but didn’t leave. Her lip wobbled. “Keep your head on and be safe, soldier,” she whispered. “Come back alive. For me. For them.” Sam took Jackson’s hand and rested it on her belly.

Emotion hit my chest like a truck. This mission had a lot riding on it. But the fact that one of them was the prospect of a baby losing a parent because of my father?

It dragged an ugly memory to the surface.

I couldn’t have been older than ten when he decided to teach me a lesson. He had picked me up from school to find that I had fallen during recess. He was not happy to see me still red-eyed from crying.

He snatched my wrists and dragged me to the car, pushing me inside. “You want to lead one day? You are my heir. Lose those fucking tears. A crying woman’s a weakness. A crying girl’s a liability.”

Then he slammed the door, and we didn’t speak the rest of the day.

I didn’t cry—not until after I was sent to bed. Even then, I did it quietly. My face pressed into my pillow, holding my breath like my life depended on it.

Because it did.

That was the day Walter taught me that softness created distraction. That family was only useful if it was heartless.

Now, watching Jackson press a kiss to Sam’s stomach?

I turned my head. Not because I was intruding on a personal moment.

But because it hurt to look at something I never got a chance to experience.