Knox (A Merrick Brothers Novel)

by Prescott Lane

  I think he wants us to have a few weeks of “normal” before the press gets wind of our relationship, and things get crazy. Which is fine by me. I gave him a key to my place. I’m not sure why, other than it made it feel more real, like some sort of guarantee that he’ll be back. I shouldn’t have to give him a key to feel that way. His word should be enough, but I’ve done my radio show long enough to know that long distance is never easy, and second chance romances are even harder.

  Gigi looked so happy today. I don’t want to think about her having sex with Thomas, but I do like the idea of her not being alone, having a companion. She’s got too much life in her to spend it alone. She and I have always been close, but I know it’s not the same as sharing your life with someone.

  I wonder if I look as happy as she does. Nothing about her or Thomas looked scared or doubtful. They looked content. Do they know something I don’t?

  They’ve both lost the loves of their lives, yet here they are, trying again.

  It’s not the same as Knox and me, but in a way it is. We’re trying again, too.

  I see him hang up the phone, a deep sigh leaving his chest. He stares down into his duffle bag, like he hates the damn thing, like it’s the bag’s fault he has to leave. That warms my heart.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” he says. “Some of my fan mail has been strange. It’s got my agent worked up.”

  “Strange how?”

  “I haven’t seen it,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. “Really, don’t worry. This has happened before. My agent tends to overreact.”

  Walking to him, I say, “I wish I could drive you to the airport in the morning or something.”

  “I have the rental. Plus, I don’t want you to have to get up,” he says, taking my hand. “I don’t like to think about you driving those winding roads all alone.”

  “I do it all the time,” I say, then tease, “you might be a leading man, but I don’t need you to rescue me.”

  “Still, I’m hiring you a driver,” he laughs, taking me down to the bed. “I don’t want to think about leaving you right now.”

  His lips land on mine. This kiss is a journey, like our relationship. It starts off slow, like when we were little, building up over time. The years we spent apart, growing up. Then it erupts into when we fell in love. Without warning, he breaks apart from me—abruptly, like we ended—and looks deep into my eyes. Then it begins all over again—where we are now—starting over.

  A popular topic on my show is how to know, be sure it’s the right time to begin an intimate relationship with a new partner. That’s always a hard one to answer, mostly because it’s so personal. Some advice is just universal, like don’t cheat. Duh, that’s a no brainer. But when to take the leap into a sexual relationship isn’t so straight forward, probably because there’s more than just the brain involved. You could make a pro/con list until the cows come home, but at the end of the day, it’s a feeling. Now, that could mean something you feel in your heart, or it could be something you feel with an organ a little lower—but either way, when you know, you know.

  I place my hand on his face, feeling his stubble beneath my fingers. “If we do this now,” I say softly, “I’ll wake up to an empty bed in the morning.”

  “In that case,” he says with a million-dollar smile, “I’ll wake you up before I leave.”

  “Or you could just keep me up all night,” I say, my voice flirty.

  “I like the way you think,” he says, pinning me to the bed with his hips.

  The fabric of my dress is thin. The fabric of his jeans is rough, giving me the perfect amount of friction. I feel my muscles clench, begging for him. But I know Knox. Unless we’re in public, he likes my pleasure to be long, intense.

  My mother used to tell me that you shouldn’t have sex with someone unless you’re prepared to be bound to them for life. An unwanted pregnancy could certainly tie you to someone else, but she said there was more to it than that. She used to tell me that when you have sex with someone, they become part of your story. Whenever you have to share your sexual history with a new partner or your doctor, that person is present in your story. She would warn that, even if you don’t remember their name, they become a part of you, your life’s history.

  Knox is already a part of my history—a huge part of it. Now he’s also my present. Will he be my future?

  When you sleep with someone for the first time, there’s excitement and usually a few nerves. How will things go? Will it be good? Will I satisfy my partner? Will they like how I look naked? Did I shave? Those kinds of things.

  I know the answer to those questions with Knox, but I still feel the same butterflies, a mixture of nerves and excitement. And I’m glad we had a truthful conversation about his past relationships. Honestly, I wouldn’t be on my back right now if we hadn’t. That talk needed to happen.

  Knox sits back on his heels and takes my hand, encouraging me to sit up. His eyes lock on mine as he slowly lifts my dress over my head. Per his request, I don’t have anything on under my dress. Tossing it to the floor, he lightly kisses my lips until I’m flat on my back again.

  His fingers lightly go through my hair as he whispers, “Do you want me to use a . . .”

  Shaking my head, I pull him into a kiss and whisper, “You, just you.”

  He leans back slightly, his eyes roaming my body. I love the way he looks at me, like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. That look is why he’s a box office phenomenon.

  “I don’t know where to start,” he says, his voice low. I reach for the button on his jeans, knowing exactly where I want him to start and finish. He smiles down at me, liking my impatience. “We’ll get there, I promise. But first . . .”

  His fingers trace my collarbone lightly, making my body quiver. Five minutes naked with Knox is already better than any sex I’ve had in the past five years, and he’s barely touched me. “Knox,” I beg.

  “Yes, baby,” he whispers against my neck.

  All I can do is moan softly in response, my body a tight ball of need that only he can unwind. His hand slides down my torso to the small tuft of hair between my legs. I haven’t dated in a while, which means I haven’t waxed in a while. Things are still in good shape, mind you, but I’ll admit that I was better groomed when Knox and I were dating.

  He gives it a gentle tug, making me whimper a little. “This stays,” he orders.

  “Yes,” I groan as he tugs again. On instinct, my legs fall open, inviting him. Heck, they’re practically begging for him. I can feel my wetness, how open I am. It hurts in the best possible way, and I know I’m with a man who can take it away.

  Without warning, he gives me a little smack right between my legs. I cry out, the base of his hand hitting my clit, his fingers tapping my opening. “More!” I cry breathlessly.

  For a second, he’s stunned, pulling back slightly. I never asked for anything in bed before, I simply waited for him to give it to me. And he always did. I was never left unsatisfied, but the past five years without him changed me. I learned to ask for what I wanted, knowing I wouldn’t get it otherwise.

  My eyes fly to his, and I find him grinning down at me. He doesn’t mind my request at all. His finger outlines my folds, opening me wider, but his finger doesn’t invade me. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “More is coming.”

  He starts to kiss my neck, the whole time his finger toying with me. I’ve never wanted something inside me so much. I start to move, to try to position myself to push his finger inside, but he simply chuckles at me.

  “Do I need to tie you up to get you to behave?”

  “Knox!”

  He raises his head, a sexy smirk on his face. I’d almost forgotten how fun he is in bed. We laugh as much as we fool around. I like a little rough play as much as the next girl, but that’s all it ever is—play. He might spank me, tie me up, but it’s never as punishment. It’s always for pleasure, both mine and his.


  “It’s been five years,” he says. “Let me take my time.”

  God, he’s sweet. I toss my hands up over my head, like I’m submitting to him. “I’m yours.”

  “Yes, you are,” he growls, gently biting my nipple.

  The pleasure shoots right between my legs. A woman’s breasts are the most under-utilized sexual organ on her body. Men are so obsessed with them, but put a pair in front of their faces and most of them are struck dumb, like boobs are hypnotic or something.

  Knox, however, knows exactly what he’s doing. I let him suck, bite, and lick one while his hand works the other. The muscles between my legs clench hard, over and over. The only thing I can think about is how badly I want to come. He hooks his finger around my nipple, giving it a little tug. My back arches, wanting it harder. He knows exactly what I need, sucking down on me, pulling my nipple between his teeth.

  Just when I think I can’t wait one more second, he gives me another little smack between my legs. “Ahh!” I cry out, my orgasm so close.

  My body starts trembling. “Shh, baby!” he whispers, his kisses lighter now, trailing down my body. When he reaches my belly button, he stops, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

  His tan, broad shoulders over me, I watch his head slip lower and lower. I like sex. A man’s hands, his penis—I like it all, but oral sex is my favorite. When you have a man that knows what he’s doing, it’s almost addictive. And Knox knows what he’s doing.

  I used to tease him that I taught him everything he knows. Basically, we taught each other, but make no mistake, the man has innate talent with his tongue.

  I feel his warm breath. My eyes close, waiting for the first feel of his mouth. He starts with a light kiss.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  His tongue slips deep inside me on the count of four. “God!” I groan, tightening around him, relief flooding my body at finally having a part of him inside me.

  He hikes my thigh up on his shoulder, deepening his kiss, his hand reaching up and finding my breast, teasing my nipple.

  “I love your pussy,” he whispers, continuing his assault on me.

  When some men try to talk dirty in bed, it feels wrong, like it’s unnatural for them, but dirty talk is Knox’s second language, and it only makes me hotter.

  “I’m going to eat until you come,” he growls.

  I spread my legs wider, letting him know that’s exactly what I want. He sucks hard on me while his tongue does this circle thing. Forget the alphabet technique, whatever the hell he’s doing is next level.

  The tension in my body builds, my hands gripping the bedsheets. The only thought I can hold in my head is how much I need this. At this point, it’s a need, not a want. I need him to finish me like I need air in my lungs.

  He starts moving faster, never losing suction, his tongue continuing to stroke me. I feel myself building, more and more, and then my vision goes totally white as I explode around his expert mouth.

  Still trembling from my orgasm, he quickly undoes the button of his jeans, flips me over, giving my ass a hard smack before he unapologetically rams inside me.

  He pounds into me, taking me, claiming me as his. And I quickly come again—hard and long—but he doesn’t slow down. He’s getting five missed years of fucking out in this one session.

  He spanks my ass again. “More,” he demands, reaching under me and stroking my clit. “Come again.”

  I’m not sure how, but my body responds to his call. That familiar sensation of need rolls through me.

  “That’s my girl,” he says. He slows down a bit, slipping himself in and out of me. His fingers trace my spine, and I arch my back.

  On my knees and elbows, I rock back on him. “Fuck,” he groans. “Pull my cock.” I do as he asks, tightening all around him, giving him what he wants. “Christ, baby, you feel good,” he says.

  Suddenly, I don’t care about finishing again. I could, but I don’t care. I only care about his pleasure. Reaching under us, I give his balls a gentle tug. I feel him tense up, but he doesn’t let go, refusing to leave me with anything left. His hand starts to move faster across my clit, circling me.

  I continue to stroke him, hearing him cursing under his breath. It’s now a race to the finish. It’s only when I fly over the line that he follows along behind me.

  *

  We’re naked in bed, smiling, staring at each other. Neither of us ever thought we’d be like this again. Every other woman in the world would probably be calling her girlfriends right now, bragging that she banged a movie star, but that’s not who Knox is to me. He’s my childhood friend, my college sweetheart, the man who taught me what real love feels like.

  I have no idea what time it is, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want the morning to come, for him to leave. I’m just going to enjoy him, in these hours while they last.

  “I need that ass,” he says, running his hand across my bare bottom.

  This is one point of contention in our sexual history. He wanted to claim all of me, but I’m an exit-only kind of girl. Laughing, I buck my hips a little, my version of no way in hell. I’m on my belly, so I lean up on one elbow to look at him resting alongside me. “Still haven’t changed my mind about that.”

  He rolls me to my side, his dick finding his home buried deep inside me.

  “Again?” I playfully protest.

  “We don’t have to do anything,” he says. “Just let me feel you.”

  There’s a lot of sides to Knox, but his sweet one is the one I first fell in love with. His hand strokes my face, brushing my hair behind my ear, playing with the few curls. He follows the path of my body, down my breasts to my waist, hips, and thighs. I feel his dick twitch inside of me, coming alive.

  I run my fingers through his dark blonde hair, down to the stubble on his handsome face. He’s finally naked, too impatient the first time to fully undress. His body is even better than before—broader, stronger. He’s one hundred percent muscle, with that perfect v-cut that leads to the promised land.

  He hikes my leg up to his hip, cupping my booty in his hand. His blue eyes sparkle, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Even though I’ve known him most of my life, he still surprises me.

  “It feels the same,” I whisper. “Like we haven’t spent a day apart.”

  His dick pulses again, making me moan a little. “It does.”

  Our hips grind against each other, slowly. He wants to make sure I feel every single long inch of him. I grab his shoulder, feeling the desire in the pit of my belly. He runs his fingers through my hair, gazing at me, then moves his finger to my lips, parting them.

  I slip his finger between my teeth, teasing him, sucking him. He spent considerable time on me, but I haven’t returned the favor yet. This is a promise that I will. He flashes me a naughty look, and I think it’s because he knows what I’m thinking.

  But when he moves his hand to my ass, I realize he had something else in mind. As avid listeners of my show know, I’ve had guys try to slip their fingers in my ass before. That was always a buzz kill. I even had one poor guy tell me he missed my hole. If his sense of direction was that bad, he needed to go, and if he was lying, then he’s a jerk.

  Knox clearly knows what he’s doing. He watches my eyes. He’ll stop as soon as I ask, or show any signs of discomfort.

  “I need to know you’re all mine,” he whispers.

  What the hell? Why not? It’s just a finger. And if anyone could make this enjoyable, I know it’s Knox. I give him a little nod.

  He holds my eyes, not allowing me to look away. His hips move slowly, his dick hitting just the right spot. “Focus on my cock,” he whispers. “How good it feels.”

  I try, but as soon as I feel his finger poised at my entrance, I tense, and he senses it.

  He kisses me softly, keeping his finger still, just barely applying pressure. “My cock, your pussy,” he says softly. “Me fucking you.”

  “Mmm,” I say, repea
ting his words in my head.

  “I’ve fantasized about you over the years,” he says, slipping his dick in and out of me.

  “Me, too,” I say.

  “When you touch yourself?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I whisper, my breath growing ragged.

  “Will you let me watch you?” he asks. “When I’m away, will you fuck yourself and let me watch?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Fuck, that makes me hard,” he says, and I feel proof of what he is saying, his dick growing firmer and longer inside of me. He leans over, giving my breast a lick. “Touch yourself now.”

  I follow his command and reach up, playing with my nipple, feeling the wetness between my legs growing.

  “I’m going to have to eat that pussy one more time before I go,” he says through gritted teeth. “Will you let me?”

  “Yes,” I moan loudly, as he pushes his finger in. My eyes flash wide. Have I just lost my last virginity? Does this mean I’m not an anal virgin anymore? Do fingers count? His hips keep rolling into mine. “Oh!” I bite down on my bottom lip, grabbing his shoulder.

  With his finger in my ass and his dick inside me, everything is that much tighter, that much more intense. My muscles convulse, over and over again. I can’t control it.

  “Fuck, baby,” he growls.

  I start moving faster. It feels good, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Forbidden and dirty, and I’m dripping. He pushes with his finger, and I swear it’s like he’s pushing right on my G-spot. The words that come out of my mouth aren’t even English—a series of moans, half curse words. I can’t control myself. I come so hard that I pull his orgasm right out of him.

  I nuzzle into his chest, listening to his pounding heart settle. With each beat of his heart, I make a wish. One beat—for time to stop. Another beat—that it will always be like this. Another beat—for this to last forever.

  “I guess you liked that,” he teases. Feeling my face heat, I look up at him. He rests his forehead on mine, saying, “I can’t leave in a few hours.”