by RC Boldt
Her eyes flash open, lips parting on a gasp. And that’s when I feel it. Even through the thin fabric of her panties and my cotton boxer briefs, I feel it.
The sudden rush of heated wetness.
From my words alone.
I know I’m playing dirty, but I can’t help it. I recall with vivid clarity just how much my words—my dirty talk—would turn her on.
“Knox.” That’s all she has to say. One word. My name. That’s all it takes, and instantly, I know what she needs.
Even after all the time that’s passed, I know what she’s saying.
She wants—needs—one thing.
Me.
15
Emma Jane
“Knox.” My voice is laden with arousal because when he spoke those words, when he whispered those naughty things, it shifted things into high gear.
He’d always been incredible in bed, but I hadn’t realized how much he’d turned me on with his dirty talk.
Suddenly, I’m flipped onto my back and stripped of my panties. Then he rids himself of his briefs before drawing our bodies closer in a fusion of heated flesh.
I can’t recall anything that’s ever felt this good, that’s as decadent as the sensation of his body pressed against mine, all of his hard angles fitted against my softer, more lush body.
Our combined ragged breathing is the only sound in the quiet room before his mouth finds mine again in a feverish kiss. My hands glide over his body, and I’m frantic—this urge to touch every single inch of him is profoundly fierce.
He draws his lips away from mine, breaking our kiss to move down the length of my body and settle between my legs. Nudging them wider, his eyes lock with mine and when he cocks an eyebrow, I swear he’s barely withholding a smirk full of wicked intent.
“I had dinner earlier, but I never did get my dessert.”
He lowers his mouth to me, fastens his lips around my clit, and sucks it gently.
All without breaking eye contact.
When he slips a long, thick finger deep inside me, a loud gasp spills from my lips, and I grow even wetter. His beard abrades the skin of my inner thighs in the most decadent way.
Withdrawing his finger, he slides lower on the bed, and his words are low, gravelly, and unequivocally seductive. “I’ve got to taste you again.” His tongue sweeps inside, delving as deep as he can, and I can’t resist rocking against him. The sensation of his facial hair against my core as it brushes my most intimate parts sends delicious shivers down my spine.
My hands find my breasts, and I begin to toy with my hardened nipples while he tastes me, darting his tongue in and out. His thumb circles my clit and my inner walls tighten in anticipation of my release.
My eyes flutter closed, and my body arches as my breathing becomes more ragged as I near orgasm.
“Come for me.” His hot breath washes against my skin. “Come on my tongue.”
I suck in a sharp breath when his tongue delves inside me as his thumb works my clit feverishly, and my body gives in to the pleasure he’s providing, clenching and releasing around his tongue. I writhe, shamelessly thrusting against his mouth, my fingers still plucking at my nipples.
Once the shudders begin to subside, my breathing still slightly staggered, Knox shifts to reposition himself above me. A bit unsure of what I’ll find, I slowly open my eyes. But I should have known.
Some things never change.
Those lips of his are stretched in a wide, smug grin, his green eyes dancing. “Yep. Still got it.”
With a roll of my eyes, I can’t withhold the smile that breaks free. Half-heartedly, I shove against him. “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s just that it’s been a long—”
I break off abruptly, squeezing my eyes shut with a wince as my body tenses with the knowledge that I’ve just handed him ammunition.
Heck, I’ve given him the freaking Atomic bomb.
Here we go. I wait, still not brave enough to open my eyes, preparing for him to say something cocky and revel in my unexpected disclosure.
When his lips lightly skim across my forehead with a soft kiss, my eyes flutter open in surprise. I find him backing away to admire me with tenderness etched across his features.
“Same.” His tone is subdued, husky, his vibrant green eyes holding mine. And it takes a moment for his response to sink in.
Wait a minute… Same? Same, as in, it’s been a while since he’s been with a woman?
I can’t help myself. I stare up at him, practically gaping at his admission because, regardless of our tumultuous past, Knox has always been an incredibly attractive and sexy man. One who most assuredly never lacked female attention.
Before I can ponder it further, he lowers his head and drops a featherlight kiss to my lips before his mouth trails along my jawline, leading to my earlobe. His teeth toy with it as he murmurs soft, heady words. “You have no idea how hot you looked, touching yourself while I had my mouth on you.” His sensual words send delicious shivers ricocheting through me. “I can’t wait to slide”—he presses his hard length against me and I instinctively arch into his touch—“deep inside you.” His lips continue dropping tiny, wet kisses along my neck and collarbone. “And feel you clench around my cock like you did my tongue.”
My breath catches in my throat while my fists clench the bedsheets. “Then what are you waiting for?”
He leans back slightly, his features etched in surprise. “Well”—he grins—“look at who’s getting all bossy.”
I raise an eyebrow pointedly. “We’re naked. In my bed. I think that automatically gives me the right to be bossy.”
He smirks, and with a roll of his hips, his cock nudges my entrance. “Does it now?”
“If you don’t hurry up and grab a—”
He shoots out an arm in the direction of my bedside table. “On it.” Sliding the drawer open, he reaches in and immediately freezes, his eyes widening with what appears to be surprise. Slowly, he withdraws his hand from the drawer, a condom pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
My brow furrows. “Is there a problem?”
“This is all you have.”
“What do you mean it’s—” I stop, my lips forming an O. “You mean…”
“This is all you have,” he repeats slowly.
One condom.
One. Single. Condom.
The universe is just cruel.
I offer a wry smile. “I guess this means you’d better make it worthwhile.”
An indecipherable expression flickers across his face before his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Sounds like someone’s already doubting me.”
He rises to his knees, straddling me. Without breaking eye contact, he rips open the package and tosses the wrapper aside before focusing on the task of rolling the condom over the flared head of his cock and down the rigid length.
His intense appraisal holds me captive, the heat flaring within the depths as he guides himself to my entrance and presses inside fractionally, eliciting a faint gasp from me.
He lowers himself to rest his forearms on either side of me, and his hands cradle my face in a manner that’s so reverent, it causes my heart to skip a beat.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers before taking my mouth in a greedy kiss while simultaneously sliding deeper inside me. The combination of this—the all-consuming passion in his kiss, the way he presses deep and feels so perfect—propels me into a flurry of action.
Gripping his ass with my hands, I urge him deeper, undulating my hips. Our tongues seductively spar as he establishes a rhythm, thrusting in and out of me. One of his large hands cups my breast, and my nipple puckers more, reacting to his slightly calloused palm. He grasps my leg, just beneath the knee, and maneuvers it to drape over his shoulder, and the shift causes him to sink even farther inside me.
My lips part on a breathy moan, and my pleasure increases tenfold when I hear Knox’s staggered breathing, his thrusts picking up speed. Bringing his lips to my neck, his voice is guttural, rag
ged with lust, as his hot breath fans against my skin. “Feels so fucking good…” His choppy breaths match my own now as I feel my body tense, fast approaching my orgasm. “God, I… Fuck.”
Knox shifts to his knees, positioning both of my legs over his shoulders before he resumes thrusting. His movements are desperate, frenzied, and drive me right over the edge. My body stiffens right before I come apart, pleasure crashing over me in waves.
“Knox,” I cry out, my inner muscles clenching around him as my hips writhe and I buck against him.
He manages to drive even deeper before succumbing to his own orgasm with a powerful shudder.
Once the slight trembling subsides, Knox gently releases my legs and drops down to brace himself above me on his elbows. A lock of hair slides over his forehead, and I’m taken aback at the sight of lingering hunger still present in his eyes.
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and when he dips his head to skim his lips against mine, a dangerous emotion radiates through me, causing my throat to constrict almost painfully.
There’s a part of me that’s grateful I had only one condom handy. Because if this is how I feel after sex with Knox after all this time, I have a pretty good idea what would happen if we went numerous rounds.
I’d be back to square one, and would find myself in love with a man who never really loved me.
EMMA JANE
HIGH SCHOOL
SENIOR YEAR
“He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not…” My voice trails off when a muscled arm snakes around my waist and tugs me back against a firm, familiar body.
“He loves you.”
I peer down at the white flower petals that remain on the daisy before tilting my head to look up at Knox when he adds, “Trust me.”
“Is that so?”
“Woman,” he growls playfully, spinning me around in the circle of his arms. He dips his head to kiss me softly. “I went dress shopping with you for prom. You know I love you.”
My laughter brings an easy smile to his lips, and I know that I’d give anything in the world to make him smile like that for the rest of my days.
Suddenly sobering, I avert my gaze. “You’ll have to leave soon for Auburn.”
Heaviness hangs between us at the mention of him leaving for college. Knox received both academic and athletic scholarships to Auburn University and has to be settled in his dorm earlier than the average freshman due to the requirements for baseball conditioning. Auburn’s about three hours away, and I’m sticking around to attend The University of South Alabama here in West Mobile.
Knox lifts my chin with his finger, tilting my face up to his. “Hey.” His voice is husky with emotion, and I know it’s because he’s heard what people are saying about us.
They’ll grow apart while they’re in college.
They’re just kids.
They’ll find someone else.
The thing is, they’re all wrong. There’s no one else for me. Knox Montgomery is it.
“You know what’s going to happen when we go to college in a few months?”
“What’s that?” I answer in a hushed tone.
“I’m going to miss you like crazy, but we’re going to email and talk on the phone when we can. And one thing’s certain.” He places my palm flat against the center of his chest. “My heart is yours.”
16
Knox
PRESENT
The morning after—the whole “walk of shame” thing—never was my style.
Turns out, it still isn’t. And it’s awkward as hell.
Case in point, I wake up in EJ’s bed, sprawled on my stomach, facing her blinds which now have sunlight streaming through the slats. Her trademark scent of apple blossoms surrounds me, and my mouth stretches into a wide, smug grin as the memory of last night hits me.
Until I realize I’m alone.
Pushing up on my arms, I turn my head on the pillow to scan her side of the bed. Judging by the lack of indentation in the pillow and how the covers on her side are fixed neatly, she’s been up for a while. It’s only now that I note the scent of coffee brewing.
I shift, sitting up slowly, and take a moment to study her bedroom in the light of day. One door leads to an en suite bathroom on one side, where she lent me an extra toothbrush last night. This was only after I’d promised—and followed through—on proving to her that we didn’t need a condom to have more fun.
When I’d laid her doubt to rest, it’d been an intensely gratifying victory. But the moment she’d relented and offered me a spare toothbrush from the pack beneath her sink was the moment I felt like I’d managed the impossible. Like I’d won gold at the Olympics.
I won’t even get into how I’d played up my exhaustion and guilt-tripped her about sending me home in the middle of the night. Not one of my more manly moments, but it got the desired results.
Sliding out from beneath the sheets, I stand and stretch before I adjust my boxer briefs to account for my morning wood. In an attempt to calm my erection, I step closer to inspect the framed photos on her walls that I hadn’t paid attention to last night. There are quite a few of her and Becket. I never verified what exactly their relationship is, in fear of what her answer would be. I also figured it was pointless since we agreed this—whatever this had actually been—would be a one-time thing.
My eyes fall on a few more photos in a collage-style frame, and this time, she and Madison, F&F’s beauty editor, are all smiles, so infectious that I find my own lips mirroring theirs.
Until my gaze lands on the small photo at the bottom of the frame, that is. Because this one shows her with Becket, and it appears he’s holding his phone up to take a selfie of them. Her smile is just as beautiful as usual, but something’s off. Even without being in contact with her for the past eight years, I know her smiles, and this one’s slightly forced and almost seems like it’s tinged with sadness, just a bit lackluster.
I’m so caught up in my perusal of her features in the photo, it takes me a moment before I realize what she’s wearing.
Her wedding dress. The one she’d complained that her father had insisted she wear in lieu of the one she’d wanted. All because of what he thought his daughter would be more “well-received” in.
That man had been a thorn in my side from day one, but I’d remained respectful because he was the father of the woman I’d loved since I’d realized love existed. He was far more concerned with how those he did business with would react or their opinions than the well-being of his own family. I still don’t understand how his wife has stayed with him all this time.
I recall that conversation he’d bombarded me with as I’d been pulling on my tuxedo jacket, preparing to marry his daughter. He was the absolute last person I’d wanted to see moments before I allowed the wedding planner to ensure I was standing in the correct spot to await my bride. Little did I know, the man turned out to be a fucking omen.
Because that ended up being the shittiest day of my life.
“Hey.”
Her soft, tentative voice draws my attention and I turn to find her already dressed in workout clothes and holding a mug, a tiny spiral of steam coming off the top of it.
“I have to head out and meet Madison, but I made coffee.” With a tight smile, she offers the cup to me. “I wasn’t sure if you still took yours the same way or not, but there are four sugars in there…” She trails off nervously, averting her eyes.
There’s a pinching in the center of my chest at the fact that she recalls exactly how I take my coffee. Still.
Accepting it, I thank her and take a small sip of the warm brew while eyeing her over the rim. She looks cute in a pair of shorts paired with a tank top over a sports bra.
She reaches up to adjust her ponytail, and it takes everything in my power to resist rushing toward her and tugging that silky, dark hair loose. To convince her to pick up where we left off last night.
“Well.” She takes a step backward. “I’m going to grab my stu
ff and put on my shoes so, uh, if you want to just lock up behind you…”
This awkward shit is for the birds.
Quickly draining my coffee, mindless to the burn my throat is enduring, I hold the cup out for her. Once she accepts it from me, I bend and begin gathering my clothes. My only care now is getting out of here and sparing us more of this tiptoeing around one another.
“No worries. I’ll be out of your way in less than five minutes.”
“O-okay.” She disappears down the hallway, and I hurriedly button my shirt and pull on the rest of my clothes before slipping into my shoes with record speed.
Just as I’m stepping out of her bedroom, I can’t help but toss another look over my shoulder in the direction of that one photograph of her and Becket with her in her wedding dress.
I should’ve been the guy beside her in that damn photo.
I’m mudding and taping in preparation of painting my kitchen when Wells calls. Some days, I think my best friend has some sort of weird telepathy for when I get my ass in a bind.
Descending the ladder I’ve been perched on for much of the morning since I left EJ’s, I grab my phone from the smooth surface of the newly installed granite countertop.
“Hey, man.” We’ve been missing each other since both our workloads had increased quite a bit lately.
“Please say you’re painting or are finished painting.”
A laugh escapes me because Wells hates mudding and taping. The last time he helped me was with vaulted ceilings over eighteen feet in height at my Mobile house, and, well, my buddy is decidedly not a fan of heights.
“Not quite.”
He exhales loudly. “Damn. Well, I was planning to head your way just to get a breather from this place. Plus, I know you’d asked me to look over the financials and legal terms on a few things.”