My forehead presses to the glass as I gasp his name, body trembling, trying to take him deeper.
“Damn,” he groans, hand gripping my hip, the other coming around to palm my breast, fingers flicking my nipple. “You’re so fucking tight. Like your body was made for me.”
He starts to move, long, measured strokes that hitdeep. I whimper, bracing against the cool glass, barely able to breathe.
“No,” he growls when I bite back a moan. “I want to hear you.”
So I give him everything. My cries, my gasps, every helpless sound he pulls from me. He deserves all of it.
His hand finds my clit again, circling as he drives into me faster, harder, the rhythm ruthless, exact. My legs tremble as the heat builds again, impossibly white hot.
“Harder,” I beg. “Please, Knox, don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping.” He slaps my ass, hard enough to make me yelp, then again, rougher, before his hand slides up and closes around my throat from behind, not tight, just enough to send lightning through my veins. “Not until you’re fuckingruined.”
The next orgasm hits like a freight train, violent and consuming. I scream his name, hands splayed against the glass, my reflection blurring in front of me as I come apart completely.
He pulls out slowly, catching me when I sag, breath ragged against my neck. He’s still hard, his restraint barely leashed.
I don’t want him restrained.
I turn and drop to my knees in front of him, eyes locked on his, mouth already open. His breath catches.
“Josie.” he warns, voice shredded.
I trail my fingers up his thighs, nails lightly scraping. “Let go,” I whisper. “Let me have you.”
He fists my hair, groaning low. “You’re going to ruin me.”
Good.
I take him deep, tongue stroking, throat tightening around him as he shudders. His control frays with every bob of my head, every wet, obscene sound filling the air. He grips my hair tighter, but doesn’t force. He lets me set the pace.
Until he can’t anymore.
When he finally breaks, he curses low, hips jerking, and I take everything he gives, licking him clean, not stopping until he’s trembling above me, spent and speechless.
And it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
CHAPTER THREE
Knox
The hammering pauses long enoughfor me to catch the sound of my own breath in the quiet.
It’s not silent, not with drills whining in the background and boots scuffing against concrete, but it’s close enough to peace.
Close enough to focus.
I stand dead center in the dining room of The Marrow, hands on my hips, eyes on the exposed beam running overhead. The space is almost done. Tables are in. Lighting’s hung. The banquettes along the far wall are still wrapped in plastic, but I can see the shape of the room now. All clean lines, raw textures, black steel against warm wood.
There’s an open kitchen in the back, anchored like a heartbeat. Gas burners are already in place. Plates are stacked. Stainless steel is gleaming. It’s all exactly how I envisioned it.
Minimal. Controlled. Mine.
“Final inspections are booked for tomorrow,” Martin says, not looking up from his iPad. “Lighting install’s finished, banquettes will be unwrapped this afternoon, and walk-in passed temp regulation this morning.”
I nod, scanning the space again. There’s still dust in the corners and tape on the baseboards, but this is it. It’s real now. Tangible.
