KNOX: Volume 1 (4 page)

He slides out of me and suddenly I feel hollow. Incomplete. He places the tip of his cock against my opening again and I hold my breath.

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please put it in,” I beg.

He teases me a bit, sliding in just an inch or two. Then he rams into me, filling me completely and my chest trembles with desperation.

“More,” I beg. “Faster. Harder.”

He thrusts into me, using my wetness to pierce me deeper with each stroke. My arms and neck are getting tired from this position, with the side of my face pressed against the mattress. As if he can sense this, he pulls his cock out of me and presses my ass down so I’m lying flat.

He straightens my right leg then bends my left leg as he enters me from behind. At this angle, with his chest pressed firmly against my back, I begin to lose myself quickly.

The hot friction of our bodies makes our bodies slick with sweat. His cock fills me, stretches me, stabs me. His mouth devours my neck as his hand massages my breast, pinching my nipple so I can feel that carnal pull in my lower abdomen. He moves in and out of me, panting heavily into my ear as his hand slips between my thighs.

“Oh, Knox!” I cry, my body convulsing.

My thighs tremble as his thrusting speeds up. He growls, a low primal roar as he bites down on my neck and explodes inside me. He holds his finger over my clit, softly caressing me as my muscles contract and release. Until I come undone.

We lie breathless, boneless as we recover. Then he slowly reaches between us and unties me. He tosses the tie to the floor and I sigh as I stretch my arms. Then a sick feeling develops in my stomach as an equally sick thought materializes in my mind.

I don’t want to be free.

10

I wake to find the other side of the bed empty. For a moment, I consider I may have dreamed the entire ordeal with Knox. Maybe I even dreamed the part where I was taken to the garage.

Then I see his tie strewn across the beige carpet next to the strip of condoms. And I hear the shower going. It was real. Knox is real.

Or is he?

I leap out of bed. I have to find out if Knox is Marco and this is probably the only opportunity I’ll have to do so. I scramble around the bed until I see his slacks tossed onto the armchair a few feet away from my bed. I dig into the pockets and find his wallet. When I open it, I’m not surprised to find no identification. All I see is a black credit card bearing the name Knox Savage.

“You’re out of towels.”

I drop the wallet and slacks onto the armchair and spin around. Knox is standing in the doorway of the bathroom completely naked. Water drips from the glistening black hair on his head and his muscular body, all over the floor, forming small puddles around his feet. My eyes flit to his forearm, scanning his skin for the tattoo of Marco’s mother’s name. His entire forearm is covered in a sleeve of tattoos.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I’ll get you a towel.”

I move toward the closet where I keep both my clothes and my linens, but he beats me there. His arms lock around my waist as he presses his naked body against my naked body.

“Find anything interesting in my wallet?”

His blue eyes look even bluer in the morning light. I want to scream at him.
Just tell me the truth!
But I don’t want to know what kind of lesson he’ll teach me after that. Or maybe I do want to know.

“Who are you?” I shout. “Tell me who you are?”

“Are you making demands of me, Rebecca?” He grabs my face, his thumb and fingertips digging into my cheeks. When I don’t answer, he pulls my face to his so our noses are touching and roars. “Are you making demands of me?”

I don’t say anything. I couldn’t speak if I tried. My throat has closed and my mouth is dry. If he doesn’t kill me now, he will do it eventually.

He crushes his lips to mine and I fight to breathe as he ravages my mouth. One of his hands grasps my ass, pulling me against him, as his other hand finds my clit. His fingers glide right past my pleasure spot as he thrusts them inside me. He curls his fingers, massaging and searching until he finds my g-spot and I begin to crumble.

“Please stop,” I plead. It feels so good it’s almost painful. I don’t know if I can take it.

His thumb massages my clit as his middle finger caresses my g-spot and I shake my head adamantly.

“Please.”

“Please, what?” he murmurs against my lips.

“This is too much. Please … just fuck me.”

He chuckles as he removes his hand from between my legs and proceeds to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” I ask incredulously.

He ignores me as he continues to pull on his clothes over his still damp body. He wraps his tie around his fist and musses up his hair as he walks toward the door.

When he reaches the door, he turns around and points at me with the same finger he just used to torture me. “Don’t ever fucking spy on me again or this is going to end very badly.”

He unlocks the door and pauses for a moment. “Now take a shower and make yourself pretty. You have work to do.” He reaches for the doorknob then pauses again, my heart pounding as I anticipate what he’s going to say or do next.

He looks into my eyes as he slowly slides his finger into his mouth and smiles. “Be a good girl at work today and I’ll finish you tonight.”

That’s all he needed to say. A promise.
There will be more, if you behave.

11

I scrub myself in the shower, but I can’t seem to rid myself of Knox’s scent. I don’t think there’s any of him left on me, but I can still smell him. As if he’s embedded so deeply inside me, in places I can’t reach.

August will be here to walk me to work in less than an hour. I have to hurry up and get dressed and blow dry my hair. I have to make it seem as though nothing has happened. Then I can spring it on August when we get to the precinct.

August, it’s over. I’ve found a guy who can fuck my brains out. Literally. I think I’ve lost my mind in a matter of hours, but I’ve never felt better.

The doorbell rings as I’m pulling my bra out of the dresser.
Shit!
He must be here early hoping to get in a quick fuck before work. I glance down at myself. I’m wearing a towel wrapped around my body and another towel around my head.

The doorbell sounds again. I slam my dresser drawer shut and scramble for the door. I fumble with the lock for a moment, wondering if Knox left traces of me on the lock and the doorknob when he left. Pulling the door open, I’m not prepared to feel utterly disgusted when I see August’s smiling face.

I want to slap him and ask him why I haven’t been invited to his apartment in four months. I want to accuse him of cheating on me. I want to shake him so hard the truth falls out of him like loose change.

Instead, I smile and invite him inside. He leans in to kiss me as he steps over the threshold and I allow it. In my head all I can think is,
You bastard. You lying little geek.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

He immediately walks into the kitchen area and begins putting on a pot of coffee. It’s something I usually find endearing. How he knows and supports my caffeine addiction. Today I find it annoying.

“How did you sleep?” he asks as he fills the coffee pot with water then pours the water into the coffee machine.

“I slept great. Like a baby.”

“Really? Did you fill that prescription the doctor gave you?”

I open the dresser drawer again. “Nope. I was just
really
exhausted.”

“Really? What did you do last night?”

He runs his fingers through his soft blonde hair as he walks toward me wearing a sly grin. The grin that says,
I’m smarter, richer, and better looking than you, and I know it
. And suddenly I’m reminded of the day I met August.

Lita had taken me to dinner party at her then-boyfriend’s house in the Hamptons. Her boyfriend, Marty, was some hot-shot in-house lawyer for a huge record label. August was at the party with a date, though I didn’t find this out until forty minutes into our conversation when his date stumbled out onto the patio and tried to punch me in the face.

I should have known then not to trust August. But he was so charming. And
so
well-dressed. The man dressed better than I did. And the fact that he dumped his date right there was equally impressive. He was sleeping at my apartment, making me coffee, and calling me
honey
less than two weeks later.

Yes, I fall for the worst guys. Even now, as August casts that sly smile in my direction, my stomach does a backflip. He reaches for me and my towel falls as I back up into the dresser.

He chuckles as his gaze slides over my naked body. “God, you are so beautiful.”

He grabs my hips and pulls me toward him. His hands are soft. The hands of someone who drinks coffee and types on his laptop all day long. But they’re also strong as he holds me against him.

He leans in to kiss me and I turn my head. “Stop.”

“Why?” he murmurs as he kisses my neck. “You taste so good.”

“August, stop!” I push him hard in the chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you on your period?”

“Ugh! No, I am
not
on my period! You’re … you’re
cheating
on me, aren’t you?”

His entire face scrunches up in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

He moves toward me and I hold my hand out to stop him. “Why haven’t I been to your apartment in four months?”

He chuckles. “You think I’m cheating on you because you hate coming to my apartment. Honey, I stopped inviting you after you turned me down six times in a row.”

“You are so predictable, August! I knew you would say something like that.”

His smile disappears. If there’s one thing August hates, it’s being called predictable or unoriginal. His entire life is designed around his ability to bring together the old and the new, the fresh and the vintage, and make it into something effortlessly classic.

He tempers his inner disappointment as he takes a step back. “Becky, I love you. You know I would never do anything to jeopardize that love. What we have is solid. It’s … everlasting. Please don’t let this … this paranoia destroy us.”

“Paranoia?”

“Well, what else would you call it? You accuse me of cheating on you with absolutely no evidence other than the fact that I haven’t invited you to my apartment lately.”

“So I’m paranoid?”

“Becky, please.”

“Stop calling me Becky!”

“What?”

I shake my head as I turn around and grab the TV remote off the top of the dresser. I turn on the TV and it’s already on the correct channel. I watch the local morning show every morning before work. It helps me think. It keeps me focused as I get dressed and ready for work. Otherwise, I get distracted. I know that when the weather girl comes on for the second time, it’s time for me to get my ass out the door or I’ll be late for work.

The weather girl is telling us what a beautiful summer day it’s going to be in Manhattan. I set the remote back on top of the dresser and pull my bra out of the top drawer. August sneaks up behind me, pressing his lips to my ear.

“Let me make it up to you. We can spend the night at my house tonight. It’s Friday. We can spend the whole weekend there.” His tongue traces the outer edge of my ear and I close my eyes, trying to block out thoughts of Knox. “I’ll make you breakfast in bed and then I’ll feast on you.”

The weather girl disappears and a breaking news alert comes on.

“Breaking news. John Veneto, the suspected boss of the brutal Veneto Crime Family, is being arraigned this afternoon for the murder of Frank Mainella. Frank Mainella was murdered ten years ago, but his body was never found until three weeks ago when a construction company began demolishing on an old Bensonhurst strip mall and found Mainella’s remains encased in concrete below a printing shop. The Veneto Crime Family has controlled Bensonhurst and surrounding neighborhoods for more than thirty years. Police are optimistic that this arrest will restore order to this flourishing neighborhood.”

“Veneto?” August repeats my last name aloud. “I didn’t think that was a common last name.”

“It’s not.”

August follows me as I move to the closet to get some clothes. “Aren’t you from Bensonhurst?”

“He’s my father, okay? Are you happy now? Want to go write about it on your
fucking
blog?”

He chuckles again as he leans in to kiss my neck again. “That’s kind of hot.”

Without thinking, I bend my arm to my chest then I elbow him in the ribs. “Get out of my apartment, August. We’re over!”

12

I try not to cry as I walk to the midtown station on 35
^th
. Instead, I apply my makeup while walking through the crowds on the sidewalk. Ignoring the angry complaints for me to watch where I’m going. I swipe some lipstick over my mouth and tuck my compact into my purse.

Stopping on the sidewalk, I look up at the building I’ve worked in for thirteen months. It looks different.

The brown brick and gold clad siding look even gaudier than usual. A boxy design that used to symbolize strength now looks ridiculous and outdated. This department is no match for men like Knox Savage. As long as he can get to someone inside. Someone as weak and susceptible as me.

For all I know, Knox probably orchestrated this whole mess with August. All so he could find me last night on 42nd Street at my most vulnerable moment. As if he were rescuing me.

No, that’s just insane. Why would anyone go to such lengths to make another person feel insecure? Just to mess with their head. Then again, I know next to nothing about Knox other than the fact that he works for my father.

I enter the station and say my good mornings to the officers manning the front desk.
You shouldn’t be so nice to me. I’m going to betray you in a few hours,
I almost blurt out. I take the elevator down to the sub-level. The doors open and Detective Charlie Hunter is standing in the concrete corridor.

“Good morning, Veneto,” he says in his smooth jazz voice.

Charlie Hunter is the one mistake I made in the entire department. Everyone here knows who my father is. Some people think it’s funny to joke about it.
Did you see your dad this weekend? Help your dad bury any dead bodies this weekend?