Page 33 of The Quiet After The Fall

Me: I don’t want anything from you. I hate you.

Fuck. I want his hands on me. His cock in me. I hate myself more than I hate him right now. But I don’t stop. I’m too close.

Knox: I know you do. Now tell me how much while you grind against your hand.

I rock against my hand, the pillow giving me extra friction, and it’s so good. Too good. His name is caught behind my teeth and every filthy thing he’s typed plays on a loop. It’s so clear—his voice in my head saying those things to me. His hands, warm and strong, right where I want them.

Me: I hate you so much.

Knox: I know, baby. Come for me anyway.

“Oh, God.” I come hard, my whole body locking up as I shove my face into my pillow and groan. My clit pulses against my fingers as I ride out every second of bliss.

When it fades I turn to my side, staring at Owen’s phone unlit on my nightstand. I remember that Knox is lying next to Ella, and I’m alone. That he may say what I want to hear and it’s fun to play along, but it’s not real. Owen’s gone and Knox betrayed me and this, my hand in the dark, is all I have.

My phone buzzes again. And again a few seconds later.

I power it off without reading the messages…shoving it off the bed. Feeling both lighter from the orgasm and heavier from the night, I drift into a restless sleep.

Chapter 9

Knox

Ella’s breathing steadily beside me while I stroke my cock, picturing Sawyer getting herself off. I’m pumping inside her. Every slide of my fist is her tight cunt, every bead of precum is her soaking my length. She’s in my ear saying my name, telling me I’m the only one who can fuck her, the only one who can fill her.

Harder and faster until it’s almost painful.

“Yes,” I hiss under my breath. “Come on.”

Ella stirs and I break my rhythm. What the fuck would she think if she rolled over to find me jerking off beside her? Actually, I don’t fucking care. And maybe a small part of me wants her to wake up. To hear Sawyer’s name slip from my lips. I’m sure she pictures Owen every time she comes.

“Knox?” Her voice is thick. “You okay?”

Not really. I’m holding my erection, thinking of the one woman I can’t have.

She rolls over and her hand lands on my chest. “Fine,” I manage. “Just can’t sleep.”

Her hand travels lower, slipping under the comforter, until she finds what I’m hiding. She doesn’t say anything, but a small sound escapes her. Surprise, maybe?

Fuck. I don’t want her. But as she replaces my hand with her own, I don’t fight it. I let her glide it up and down, squeezing around my tip.

And when she slides off her underwear, I reach into my nightstand for a condom, rolling it down my shaft.

And when she climbs on top of me, seating herself on my cock, I picture Sawyer rolling her hips, leaning down to kiss me, to feed me her tits.

And when I come, there’s only one name behind my teeth.

Sawyer.

Ella pretends to come with an exaggerated moan, then climbs off me to return back to the side of my bed she’s claimed.

“Next time, just wake me up,” she says, kissing my cheek.

“Yeah.”

I don’t know what else to say. I’m hollow and exhausted and dirty. Like a drink that’s been sitting in the sun for days, half evaporated, half curdled, nothing like what it used to be.

Moretti’s words from tonight play on loop as I toss and turn.