But something much worse happened.
I liked it.
Every lash of his tongue was as if he was lapping at my pussy, parting my legs to get more access.
And when he thrust his tongue inside my mouth, I could almost feel his cock driving deep into my channel.
I still feel it now, the uncontrollable need, and I’m not sure if it’s his or mine.
Or maybe it’s a combination of both.
His larger body pins me against the wall and I can’t breathe, not because he’s crushing me, but because of everything else.
Like his breath on the side of my face and the sharp tingles it provokes.
Or the scent of his cologne that envelops me whole as he did in front of Kirill and Aleksander.
But most of all, it’s his warmth, the sense of safety I’ve never allowed myself to feel, not even with my father.
Because he didn’t say that, my father, he never said he’d protect me. That’s why I left, that’s why I wore contact lenses and glasses and changed my hair color.
That’s why I stole from him.
But Knox said it in front of those two dangerous men. He didn’t care that they were dangerous or that they could snap his neck with a motion from Kirill’s hand.
That’s exactly what would’ve happened if there weren’t people around. Kirill would’ve given Aleksander a sign and his guard would’ve stabbed Knox to death, then buried him on some construction site.
But Knox didn’t give a fuck about any of that.
He said he’d protect me.
And maybe that’s why I’m melting against the wall. I’m breathing so harshly, so gutturally, I think I’m hyperventilating.
However, Knox’s hold on my neck keeps me anchored in the moment and to him. And even though I have no clue where he’s taking this, a part of me, the rebellious spiky part that decided to steal and leave, doesn’t care.
Knox doesn’t care either, because his cock is nuzzling against my ass cheeks, hard and thick and hot. So hot that I catch fire.
All the tension I’ve been feeling since that day he walked out of the supply room returns with a vengeance. The onslaught of emotions wrap around my throat, matching his grip. He has his index finger against my jaw, forbidding me from attempting to move.
But that’s not the only thing wrapped around me. His other hand loops around my waist and reaches for the zipper of my pants, undoing it, then pulling the cloth down to beneath my ass.
A gust of air hits my skin and my eyes widen. “Knox…？”
“Shh. I told you to stay quiet.”
“Oh my God, you can’t be serious?”
“I perfectly am. What did you think “I’ll fuck you” means, my little liar?”
That’s the thing, I didn’t think. Or maybe I thought he was joking, but that’s obviously not the case.
“Here?” I murmur, my voice shaking, but it’s not out of trepidation.
“Here.” It’s one word, one single word, but he whispers it in that deep, sensual voice of his and it feels like a thrust into my starving core.
“But…but we’re in public.”
“So?”
“Anyone can see.”
“And?”
“That’s not right.”
“All the best things aren’t, beautiful.”
I can’t think of a reply, because he’s cupping me through my panties and their soaked with so much arousal, it’s strange and exciting at the same time.
“Hmm. You’re wet at the thought of being fucked in public.”
“No…”
“No? Your cunt that’s dripping due to the promise alone would argue otherwise. Do you like the thought of someone showing up and watching?”
“I don’t…”
“Good. Do you know why?” He pulls down my panties, so that they join my pants, and exposes my pussy; however, I still think he’ll back down and end the madness.
But I should’ve known better.
Knox and madness go hand in hand.
Sometimes, he is the madness.
He’s that piece of insanity that makes the most sense.
The foolishness in the midst of logic.
That’s how it feels now. So right and wrong at the same time.
The only right thing in the wrong.
The sound of his own zipper echoes in the air in the small nook behind the restaurant where anyone could pass by. Where any staff member could step out the door to throw something away or take a smoke break.
And I think he’s right. The possibility alone makes me wetter, stickier, messier.