My heart skips a beat when the house comes into view. This is the first time I’ve really looked at the home Knight built for us. The day we arrived here, I was too numb to really pay attention, and when we went to the Barnetts on the ATV, we never passed the front of the building.
“Stop.”
The car skids to a halt as Knight turns to look at me, his eyes assessing, his body tense.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.
“What is?”
“The house.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Why did you build us a house?” I blurt, wishing I could swallow back the words the moment I’ve said them.
“Because I wanted a home,” he says, simply. Honestly.
“Haven’t you been living in one of the houses by Etta and Oz?”
“Yes. But that was just a house. This is a home.Ourhome. It’s where we got married. It’s where we’ll make our babies, and where they’ll grow up. This is a home that we’ll make a life in. It’s ours.”
“Our home,” I repeat quietly, suddenly loving the place even more because Knight made this for us. He took a risk on me and built a future for us, and that’s beautiful—even if it is insane.
We sit in comfortable silence, just staring at the facade of the beautiful house for several more minutes, before Knight eventually drives forward, opening the garage door with the app on his cell.
Once the car is parked and the door closed behind us, I reach for my seat belt. Knight makes a disgruntled noise, capturing my hands with his and pushing them down into my lap, before climbing out of his seat and striding confidently around to my side of the car. Opening the door, he leans in, his familiar clean scent filling my nose as he unfastens my seat belt, then scoops me out of my seat and into his arms.
“Knight,” I shriek on a giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding on tightly as he marches us into the house and makes a beeline for the stairs.
Not complaining, I hold on a little tighter, resting my head against his chest as he carries me into the bedroom, lowering me to my feet at the end of the bed. Since he knocked on my door, he’s been the one in charge. Undressing me, bathing me, feeding me, and fucking me. But right now, I want to take care of him for a little while, or as long as he’ll let me.
Quickly unfastening my skirt, I let it slip to the floor. Removing my shirt, I drop it to the side, not looking where it lands, then kick off my trainers, leaving me in just my bra, panties, and the knee-high socks that feel a little naughty now that I’m only wearing my underwear.
Stepping into Knight’s personal space, I curl my fingers around the hem of his shirt, bunching the fabric in my hand before I slowly slide it up his chiseled chest, pushing up onto my tiptoes as I try to get it over his head.
Not speaking, he rips the shirt off, but instead of dropping it to the floor like I have, he folds it, then places it carefully on the chair in the corner of the room. Smiling to myself, I turn my attention to his pants and the thick leather belt at his waist. The moment I see it, my mind flashes with an image of him bending me over and spanking me with it. I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of sexual spanking. I don’t know why. I don’t think I’m someone who enjoys pain, but there’s just something about having a man leave a handprint or a belt mark on my ass that seriously turns me on.
Running my fingers over the soft leather, I pull out the end and unfasten the buckle, then slip the belt free and turn my attention to the button and zipper. Pushing the button through the fabric, I slowly lower the zipper, then peel the pants over his hips and butt until they fall to his ankles.
Just like I suspected he would, he takes off his boots and socks, then slips his feet free of his pants. Folding them, he places them on top of his shirt, positioning his boots and socks on the floor beneath the chair.
Without saying a word, he returns to me, picks up my discarded clothes, and folds them on top of his before finally coming back to stand in front of me.
Chuckling softly, I smile up at him, expecting to see him smiling back at me, but instead, his expression is intense, fire burning brightly in his eyes. Hooking my thumbs into the waist of his boxers, I keep our gazes locked while I push them down, finally letting my eyes lower to his dick when I hear the soft thud of his underwear hitting the floor.
His dick is long and thick and hard, jutting straight out in front of him, like a proud soldier standing at attention. Before he has a chance, I bend down and pick up his boxers, folding them in half and placing them carefully on the pile of clothes before returning to him.
“Was this on your list?” I ask him quietly.
“What?”
“Me sucking your dick.”
Swallowing, he nods. “Yes.”
Sinking to my knees, I place my palms flat against his thighs, then lean forward and press a soft kiss to the head of his cock. Slowly looking up at him from beneath my lashes, I take in how muscled and firm every inch of him looks. His legs are long, his thighs so thick I want to see how much of my arms it takes to wrap around one. His impressive dick is nestled in a thatch of neatly groomed hair, and as I glide my gaze up his body, each muscle in his stomach and chest is defined, hard, and perfectly formed. His shoulders are broad. His arms are thick and a warm tan color that’s slightly darker than the rest of his skin.
Pausing a breath away from his cock, I part my lips and open my mouth, then look up at him, waiting for all of his attention before I take the head of his cock into my mouth, sliding him deep until he hits the back of my throat.
