Kristen Ashley - Knight

Oh God. Oh yes. Yes.

My hips bucked.

“My baby likes that,” he growled. “Higher.”

I went higher.

“There it is, Anya, keep your ass up high for me and find it, baby.”

I closed my eyes, his finger worked.

“Look at me.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him hazily. His finger kept working.

“You come, still, you climb on my dick and you ride your Daddy through it, you hear me, baby?”

Oh God. Yes. Oh. Yes.

I nodded.

“Then you ride me until you give it to me.”

I nodded again.

His finger pressed deeper. Nice, so damned nice.

God.

I whimpered.

“Fuck, Anya, you gotta find it. I’m gonna come just watchin’ and listenin’ to you. Move your hips, find it.”

I ground into him desperately, bucking, rocking, jerking.

“Fuck, my baby’s so fuckin’ hot,” he growled and at his words, the workings of his finger, my desperate hips, I came, I did it hard but even coming, I minded.

So still coming, I shifted, moving just as desperately, searching, seeking and my hand wrapped around his hard, thick cock. He’d helpfully rolled to his back so I threw a leg over to straddle him and drove down.

God. He felt so damned good, my back arched, I threw my head back, my arms flew back to catch myself and my hands curled around his solid thighs.

“That’s it, just like that, stay arched like that and ride me,” Knight ordered. His voice was thick, hoarse, abrasive, his hands at my belly, one going up to cup my beast, the other heading down.

I did as I was told and kept coming, one climax rolled into the other then his thumb hit my clit and on its heels came the third. Arched deep, exposed, I rode him hard, fast, oh God, oh God, I was going to split in two.

His thumb left my clit, his hands found my hips and he yanked down as he surged up and I kept riding him.

“Give me that beauty,” he growled.

I righted, falling forward to my hands on either side of him, my eyes focusing with difficulty on his face.

He pulled me down tight, surging up and I watched as I gave it to him.

I knew he was coming down when one hand slid from my hip to my bottom, fingers clenching in, pads pressed deep, possessive and claiming. His other hand glided up my side, in over my ribs then cupped my breast.

His finger and thumb closed on my hard, sensitive nipple and his eyes watched as they squeezed tight then pulled sharply.

Fire shot through me, I gasped and my hips bucked into his.

“Baby likes it rough,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Yes, what?”

My hooded eyes found his and I whispered, “Yes, Daddy.”

A sexy, rough, hot, amazing, unintelligible growl rolled up his throat. I heard it even as I felt it rumble through the heat of me and his fingers at my nipple tugged again, hard. So I gave it to him again exactly as I knew he wanted it.

After I bucked, gasped and moaned, Knight’s arms closed around me, he rolled me to my back with him on me, not disconnecting. His mouth crushed mine in a hard, deep, thorough kiss that took what was left of me.

Then he broke the kiss, lifted his head and his still heated, beautiful eyes roamed my face.

“Wrap me up, Anya,” he muttered and I did.

His hand came up and he used the tips of his fingers to slide tendrils of my hair away from my face. Then they moved over my cheek, my jaw, my lips as he watched. Then his hand glided into the side of my hair as his eyes found mine.

“You full?” he asked quietly and I was, full of food, still full of him.

“Yeah.”

His eyes held mine and they did this a long time.

Then he asked gently, “Did I make my baby happy?” and my limbs all automatically squeezed.

He wanted that, to give that to me. He wanted it badly.

I gave him this and I liked it.

No, call me crazy, I fucking loved it.

And in return, he wanted to give everything to me.

“Yeah,” I whispered as his eyes dropped to watch my mouth move.

Then they came back to mine, I watched one side of his lips curl up and he murmured, “Good.”

“What?”

That was Viv.

“You need to stop asking around about Knight.”

That was me and I went on.

“He, uh… knows or figured it out because we were having words and I kinda let it slip then I kinda gave him the full story and you’re right. He’s private as in really private. He doesn’t like attention. He doesn’t like people to know shit about him and he doesn’t like it a lot. So, he asked me to ask you to stand down so I’m asking you to stand down.”

“Told you this guy’s shit is tied up tight,” she replied.

She could say that again.

It was Tuesday night, late. I was at Knight’s. He came to my place last night, woke me at nearly four in the morning, did me hard and controlling then I passed out for about an hour and a half before I woke up to get ready for work. I left him in my bed after I came to him dressed, he yanked me in, rolled me to my back and laid a hot, plundering one on me.

Tonight, my turn in his bed.

Which was where I was, lying across the satin comforter, already in my PJs, talking to my friend.

Or warning her off.

“You had words?” she asked, as was her way, nosily.

“He makes me happy. I was making that clear. He flipped out. Said some stuff to make sure it was him making me happy, not his generosity. That pissed me off. I got in his face about it. We talked it out. All is cool.”

“He makes you happy,” she whispered and my heart skipped at the tone in her voice.

“Very,” I whispered back.

“Really?” She was still whispering and it was still hopefully.

“Really.” I kept whispering too and then shared, “He likes my Buddha belly. He even brought me all sorts of cheese and crackers and bread and pâté, chasing that with carrot cake in order to assist me in maintaining it.” My voice dipped low. “Viv, he likes me for me.”

“Told you that Buddha belly of yours was hot,” she reminded me.

“I don’t know about hot. I just know Knight likes soft and sweet and womanly and that’s what he’s got in me.”

“In other words, hot guy Knight thinks that Buddha belly is hot.”

“Whatever,” I muttered and she giggled.

Then she stated, “So I take it you fucked him and that was hot too.”

That was when I giggled and through it said, “Uh… you don’t fuck Knight. No way. Knight fucks you.”

Silence then, “Come again?”

I blinked at the comforter.

After she got my silence, she stated, “Right. You signed a contract. First, babe, he doesn’t want me asking or gabbing, assure him that’s done. I’m not doing dick to fuck this for you. Second, just give me a one to ten.”

“Twenty-five,” I whispered.

“What?” she breathed.

“Maybe thirty,” I amended.

“Uh… no, babe, no. Please tell me you didn’t sign a contract.”

“I didn’t but, Viv, we talk about this, it’s between you and me. I’m not even going to talk to Sandrine about this. She gets drunk, she’s not dancing, she gets chatty. You’re Fort Knox if you wanna be and with this, I want you to be. For Knight.”

“Lips are sealed, babe,” she assured. “Really? A thirty?”

“He’s… different.”

“He’d have to be,” she muttered and I giggled again.

“It’s, Viv… um, he has a gig.”

“A gig?”

“A gig.”

“What kind of gig?”

“He’s bossy.”

“Right, well, that’s not a surprise.”

“Right, well, that kind of thing is who he is. It leaks everywhere. He likes control.”

“Control?”

“He tells me what to do, I do it. In pretty much all things at least, um… sexually but other times too but only if it’s important to him and so far he’s taken the time to explain.” I paused then said softly, “And if I don’t, he’ll punish me.” Then I finished on a hurry, “But that hasn’t happened.”

She was silent. My stomach clenched.

“It’s not as kinky as it sounds.” I promised quickly. “It’s really kind of –”

“Anya, babe, I’m a submissive,” she said quietly and I blinked.

My nosy, ballsy, bold, take no prisoners tell it like it is Vivica was a submissive?

“What?” I breathed.

“Thought about it, get it, like it, do it. To get out of that ‘hood and not live my life as a ‘ho or the bitch of some homey who gets a cap busted in his ass or a prison sentence leaving me with three kids all of who will grow up to be gangsters, ‘ho’s or stupid bitches tied to dead guys, I’m like Knight. I have to keep my shit tight. I don’t want to be the assistant manager of anything. I want to be manager. Then I want to be director. I want to own my own home. I want a nice place, nice car, nice clothes, nice shoes, nice furniture and a decent guy who takes out the trash at least by the second time I ask, gives it to me regular in a way that I like and whips my ass, literally, when I’ve been bad.”

Oh my God.

She kept talking.

“I gotta work so hard, keep my shit so tight, control my life so much to keep on the right track and get what I want out of life, it’s a relief to give all that up and put myself in someone’s hands. I trust them to take care of me, in most cases, they do. I’ve had two long-term Doms. One, I lost and I won’t explain because if I do, you’ll figure it out and he doesn’t want anyone to know so that’s his secret and not for me to share. The other, because he got off on the pain more than the trust or the relationship and sometimes failed to get me off so I got shot of his ass. Some women are into that. I’m not. But I’m looking. Just hard to find one who gets that’s bedroom, not life or not all of life.”