“He lives hours away. It’s not like he can just show up here,” I tell her, waving away her concern without looking at Knight, because I don’t want to see if this conversation about my ex is bothering him.
“You don’t think telling him you’ve moved on and that you’re married now would make him get a clue and stop messaging you?” she asks.
“I don’t want to engage with him. He fucked with me enough while we were together. I don’t want to talk to him or have him give his opinion on my life. I just want him to go away,” I say, hating how sad I sound.
“I’ll speak to Saxon and ask him to stop Abel from being able to contact you, if you’d like,” Knight says.
“He can do that?” I ask, turning to look at my husband.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Yes, please. Ask him,” I say, feeling some of the tension from this conversation start to melt away.
“Done.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat and the tears that are threatening to fall, I put down my tattoo gun, stand up, and throw myself at my husband, knowing that he’ll catch me and never let me fall.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” I whisper against his ear, then, far sooner than I’d like, I pull back and go back to my client.
NINETEEN
KNIGHT
Eradicating Doll’s ex from her life feels better than it should. Saxon was more than happy to be of assistance when I called him and asked him to block Abel from being able to communicate with Octavia via social media.
It’s not something that he or Sypher normally does, but after his sister was the victim of cyber harassment a couple of years ago, he’s more than willing to skirt the edges of the law to protect people, especially if those people mean something to him.
Saxon and I met fifteen years ago when my team and I attended his warehouse to put out a server fire. He had it under control by the time we arrived, but he and I got talking. I wouldn’t call us friends exactly, although friends is probably the closest description for what we are. He and I don’t share the same bond I feel for my brothers-in-arms and teammates, but before them, I’d say he felt more like what I’d imagine an older brother feels like, even though he’s only six months older than me.
When I agreed to start Sypher Security with him, he provided the hands-on security, and I was involved in the planning side of operations. Now I’m more of a silent partner who’s occasionallycalled on as and when required, but I’m not involved in the day-to-day running of the business.
Knowing that Abel will no longer have any way of contacting Octavia has settled the uncomfortable burning that’s been building beneath my skin with each message she received. I haven’t read them all, but I’ve seen enough of them to know that I might not be able to stay in control of my actions should I ever meet him.
If I am ever stupid enough to lose Octavia—I won’t, because I’ll never be that stupid—then I’d be more than willing to get on my knees and beg her to be mine again. But apparently, Abel Smith is not a clever man. His messages mainly consist of demanding she respond, occasionally reminding her that he was her only chance at happiness, and jabs about how she looks, what she does, and lots of hints that he was the best she was ever going to get and that he was doing her a favor by wanting her.
I rarely allow my anger to overwhelm my equilibrium, but I think Abel might be a reason to do it. He covets what’s mine, but he doesn’t appreciate it the way I do. I know that I belong to Octavia Taylor. I saw her, claimed her, and made her mine. Soon she’ll be carrying my child, and she’ll be mine in every way possible.
Abel took her affection and made it something rotten and polluted. He took her love and neglected it. He had his chance. I would have taken her from him if I needed to, but I didn’t. She came to me willingly, and I’ll never let her go.
Since I started handling her schedule and booking Octavia’s appointments, I’ve made sure she has regular breaks, including enough time to eat lunch, and for me to give her a midday orgasm. Just like I hoped, her body has adjusted and started to expect the pleasure I happily provide for her. By the time I lead her out of the studio and toward the car, her pupils are alreadydilated and her nipples are pebbled and visible through her dress.
“I want you inside me while I come,” she begs, her voice breathy and desperate.
“Inside you?” I question, confident I know what she wants, but still wanting her to say it.
“Your cock. I want your cock in me while you finger fuck me.”
Despite the seclusion of our parking space, it’s not private enough for me to fuck my wife. Providing manual stimulation, orfinger fuckingas Doll prefers to call it, beneath the fabric of her skirt is one thing, but anything more does run the risk of us being seen.
“We can’t. Not here,” I tell her.
“Then let’s go somewhere else,” she whines.
“Octavia.”
“Knight. I need it. My body is…craving it. I feel like a junkie, and this is your fault, so you need to help me.”
More and more, my wife creates stronger emotions inside of me than I’ve ever felt before, and right now, I can’t fight the smile that tries to spread across my mouth.
