Page 22 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)
His eyes rake up my body, and I swear I feel it, his gaze like a hot drag over my skin, burning me open. My pulse hammers. Every inch of me is on fire and begging, but when he leans in, lips hovering where I’m desperate to feel him, it’s almost too much.
“Say it.”
My voice trembles, thick with need. “I want your mouth,” I whisper. “Please, Knox. I need it.”
Humiliation and hunger twist inside me, sharp and intoxicating. I’ve never begged like this, never needed someone like this. But with him, on his knees, waiting for me to give permission, I feel powerful and undone all at once.
Then he’s on me. No hesitation. Tongue flat, lips firm, every move precise.
He groans like he’s getting drunk on me.
One arm anchors my hips, the other slides between my legs, fingers working in sync with his mouth.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. My hand grips his hair, holding him there, grinding against him without meaning to.
“You like this?” he asks, voice thick and muffled. “Out here, with no one around but the stars?”
“Yes, don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
His rhythm deepens. His fingers curl inside me, his tongue relentless. My body tenses, then breaks. I cry out, no control, no shame. His hands keep me from slipping off the edge of the seat while I fall apart.
But he’s not done.
“Get up here,” he commands, voice rough with need. “Turn around.”
I scramble to obey, still shaking. I brace against the seat, back arched, completely open to him.
“Please,” I whisper. “I need you.”
His hands grip my hips. I feel him press in, thick, hard, more than I was ready for. But I take him, all of him, crying out as he fills me in one brutal thrust.
“You belong to me,” he says, right in my ear. “Say it.”
I can’t catch my breath. It should scare me, how much I want that to be true, but all I feel is this aching unraveling inside me. My heart stutters, then gallops. My body clenches, aching for more.
“I’m yours,” I pant. “I’m yours.”
He moves hard. Deep. Over and over. My hands clutch the seat. The sound of us is everywhere. Loud, raw, real. His grip never loosens. His voice never softens.
“I’ve wanted this from the beginning,” he growls. “You remember that night? The way you looked at me?”
“Yes,” I manage. “I remember.”
“You thought I wouldn’t touch you.” His hand slides to my chest, squeezing, teasing. “You thought I wouldn’t bend you over and fuck you until you couldn’t think.”
He pulls out. Lifts me. Spins me. Slams back in while I stare up at him, body pinned between the seat and his weight.
I wrap my legs around him. His hand fists in my hair. The other settles on my neck again, not tight, only enough to remind me he’s in control.
My next orgasm barrels into me with no warning, dragging me deep under the waters of pleasure until they flood my lungs completely.
I cry out, clawing at his back, lost in it.
And Knox? He watches me unravel with a savage kind of awe. Then he growls, curses, and comes with a roar, hips jerking as he spills deep inside me, still grinding, still claiming every inch.
We collapse together, panting, sweat slicked and shaking, the cold air forgotten.
He cups my face, presses his forehead to mine.
“You still mine in the morning?” he whispers.
My breath catches. For a second, doubt flickers. This is real. This is more. And it terrifies me.
But then I meet his eyes. All that raw intensity. All that want . And my heart answers before my fear can win.
“I’ll still be yours,” I whisper back. “In the morning… and after.”
By the time Knox drives me back home, the heat between us is still simmering, but quieter now.
His hand stays curled over my thigh the whole ride down the ridge, his thumb making slow, absentminded circles on my skin like he doesn’t want to let go.
I don’t say much. I don’t need to. There’s a new understanding sitting between us, thick with everything we just did, and everything we didn’t say.
He walks me to my door, presses a kiss to my temple, and tells me to get some sleep.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he murmurs, voice still scratchy from everything we just shared.
I nod and smile, kiss him softly, and step inside before I lose my nerve.
But as soon as the door clicks shut behind me, everything shifts.
My stomach clenches.
At first, I think it’s the adrenaline fading, the way my body’s crashing after everything it just endured. I stumble toward the bathroom, kick off my boots, and try to breathe.
But the nausea hits fast.
Violent.
I barely make it to the toilet in time.
When it’s over, I collapse onto the cold tile, forehead against my arm, shaking.
Not again.
I press a hand to my stomach and try to calm my breathing. Try to logic my way through it. This could be anything. I didn’t eat much today. I had a long night. My body’s exhausted. I just had sex with a man who makes my brain short-circuit.
Except this isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way lately.
It’s the third.
Three different instances. Three waves of nausea I brushed off as stress or exhaustion or whatever excuse made it easiest to avoid thinking about it too hard.
And now, here it is again. Not in the morning. Not after work. But right after I gave in to every single thing I swore I was going to be careful about.
I curl into myself, hands shaking, and close my eyes.
Is this anxiety? A delayed guilt response for letting him get too close? For letting myself fall back into something I know could break me?
Or is it something else?
Something worse?
The room feels too quiet. Too still.
What if this is my body trying to scream the truth that my heart isn’t ready to face?
I sit there for a long time, curled up on the bathroom floor, thinking about Knox.
About tonight.
About what it could mean if this isn’t just stress.
Because if it’s not?
Everything changes. Again.