I straddled him, skin to skin, our bodies slick from the shower, flushed from heat. His cock was already hard again, thick and resting against the line of my pussy, and just feeling him there made me grind down, needy and unashamed.
He groaned loud, unfiltered. “Fuck, Lina… You’re going to ruin me.”
I reached between us and took him in hand, stroking once, twice, just to hear him curse again. I loved this power. The head of his cock slipped through my folds, dragging through slick heat that hadn’t gone anywhere since the moment he first touched me.
He gripped my hips, fingers pressing bruises into my skin. “You want it slow?” he asked, voice like gravel. “Or do you want me to flip you over and fuck the breath out of you?”
“I want both,” I breathed, shifting my hips and lining him up. “But right now, I want to ride you.”
His jaw clenched. “Then do it, baby. Take what you need.”
I sank down on him slowly, my breath catching as he stretched me open again. My thighs trembled from the effort, from the pleasure. His cock filled me so perfectly I couldn’t speak for a second. Just rocked there, hips grinding in slow circles, breath shaky, head tilted back.
Knox’s hands gripped my ass, pulling me down harder, watching my body take him like he was committing it to memory.
“Look at you,” he groaned. “Fuck - look at you riding my cock like it was made for you.”
I moved, finding my rhythm, fucking him the wayIwanted now. My hands on his chest, my nails dragging down hard when he hit the perfect spot. He let me set the pace, let me use him, let me take my pleasure until I was gasping, thighs burning, body shaking.
But I wasn’t the only one unraveling.
His head dropped back, breath coming in short pants, muscles tight like he was fighting the need to flip me over and fuck me into the mattress. “You feel so good, Lina. So fucking good. I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”
“Then don’t,” I whispered, clenching around him, grinding deeper. “Come inside me. I want to feel it.”
He groaned like it hurt, then suddenly sat up, one arm banding around my waist, the other cradling the back of my head as he kissed me again, rougher now.
Then he started thrusting up into me, hard, each movement lifting me off his cock and slamming me back down again. I cried out, fingernails digging into his shoulders, the new angle brushing something inside me that made my vision go white.
“Let go,” he growled into my mouth. “Squeeze my cock. Come for me like the good fucking girl you are.”
It was too much. The pressure, the stretch, the sounds of his breath in my ear, the slap of wet skin against skin, the way he talked dirty to me only in bed. I shattered in his arms, body locking down, walls pulsing around his cock as I came with a strangled cry.
He thrusted deep two, three more times with a broken moan, cock jerking as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside me, the heat of it pushing me into aftershocks. He held me tight, still buried inside to make sure his cum stayed there, our bodies shaking, clinging to each other like the rest of the world had gone silent.
***
His fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder while I drew circles on his chest, both of us reluctant to break the spell of this perfect moment.
“I have something to tell you,” he said into the quiet, his voice rumbling under my ear.
“Another secret?” I asked, but I was smiling, continuing my exploration of his chest. “Should I be worried?”
“Not a secret. A confession.” He shifted slightly so he could look down at me, those gray eyes serious. “All these years, I’ve been writing letters. To people I’ve lost. People I wanted to talk to but would never get the chance.”
I propped myself up on an elbow, curious now. “Letters?”
“To Blake mostly. Things I wanted to tell him. Updates about the pack, about Noah, about life going on without him.” He paused, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “And... to you. Everything I wanted to say but couldn’t. Everything I dreamed of but thought I’d never have.”
My breath caught in my throat. “You wrote letters to me?”
“For five years. Sometimes multiple times a week when the guilt got bad. Sometimes just once a month when I could pretend I was healing.” His thumb brushed across my cheekbone. “Would you... do you want to see them?”
“Show me,” I whispered, needing to know what had been in his heart all those years I’d thought he’d forgotten me.
He kissed my forehead gently, then carefully extracted himself from our embrace. “Let me get them.”
I pulled the sheet up around myself, watching as he pulled on his boxers and disappeared into the main basement area. When he returned, he was carrying a wooden crate that made me gasp. It was full to the brim with envelopes, all different sizes and colors, some crisp and new, others worn from handling.
