Knight’s lips came to my ear. “You like your strap?”

Oh yeah. I liked my strap. Fuck yeah.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Take the ends, back and front, rub yourself. Do not come. Stop if you think you will.”

I nodded and found the ends of the strap, back and front.

“Hold them tight, baby,” Knight ordered, I obeyed and he pressed his back to mine as his hands moved on me.

Oh God. This was good. This was unbelievably good.

I worked the strap as Knight’s hands moved on me, all over me and his mouth worked my neck.

Then I took myself close, mouth panting, and I stopped.

“My baby, bein’ good,” Knight murmured against my neck. “Give it time, come down and then keep going.”

I gave it time, his hands moved over me then I kept going.

“That’s it, bring yourself close again,” he whispered, his hands moving up then they were cupping my breasts. “Look at you. Fuck me, my baby, so fuckin’ sweet.”

Then his fingers were at my nipples, pinching, squeezing, rolling, pulling.

I stopped moving the strap.

“Keep rubbing,” he growled on a sharp tug of my nipples.

“Daddy,” I used the word as a warning. I was close.

He tugged again at my nipples and it shot through me, my head jerking back, hitting his shoulder.

“Do not come, Anya, and keep working yourself.”

Oh God. I couldn’t do this. I was going to come.

But I did what I was told.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned into my neck, grinding his crotch into my back.

“Daddy,” I whimpered.

He squeezed my nipples.

“Do not come, baby.”

“Daddy,” I moaned, still rubbing.

“Do not… come.”

I did as I was told and I was pressing my head in his shoulder, biting my lip, keening when he growled. “Drop it.”

I dropped the strap instantly.

Then I was back to the desk, Knight hands behind my knees shoving them high and wide. Then one went to his fly. Then it was back behind my knee and he was driving into me, brutal, savage, my eyes on him fucking me, his burning on my body jolting on his desk.

Stroke three, I came.

Then I came.

And I came.

And I came.

And then I lost track of how many times I came.

Then with one last, violent thrust, Knight came.

Eyes still on me, hands still behind my knees, he went from thrusting to sliding.

Then he plunged deep and whispered, “Come here, baby.”

I pushed up, his hands went to my ass, my legs wrapped around his hips and he lifted me up. My arms wrapped around his shoulders and he walked me across the room to his couch and then took us down, me on my back, Knight on top and he managed to do this entire maneuver connected to me.

He lifted some of his weight off me with a forearm in the couch and his other hand came to my face, his fingertips skimming my jaw, my cheek, his eyes on me and he asked gently, “You okay?”

“Happy birthday,” I whispered and he blinked.

Then he whispered, “What?”

“Kathleen told me,” I shared. “I wasn’t at a club. I was with Sandrine but I was with Vivica too. We were at a bar. Back booth. No one could even see us. No dancing. Nothing. Just us girls. We took a taxi so no one driving drunk. And Rhashan was in on the surprise, kinda, without a real share, he just knows it’s a surprise birthday gig for you and he knew where we were the whole time.”

He stared at me and he did this a long time, giving nothing away.

So I went on softly and now uncertainly, “I didn’t know what to get you.”

“Jesus, fuck,” he finally muttered.

“Knight?”

“Jesus, fuck,” he repeated.

“Did I… was that okay?”

He buried his face in my neck and groaned, “Jesus, fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

I didn’t know what to make of this.

“Knight?” I called.

His head came up.

“Yes,” he clipped. “Yes, Anya, baby, fuck me, baby. Yes, that was fuckin’ okay. That was fuckin’ beautiful what you gave me.”

It was. He believed that. What I gave him meant something to him.

It meant a lot.

Tears filled my eyes.

“Knight,” I whispered.

“Fuck me,” he whispered back, staring at me, his eyes burning because his heart was beating there.

God.

Beautiful.

I smiled, lifted my head and, lips to his, I whispered, “I’m kinda not done.”

“Fuck me,” he repeated and I smiled bigger.

“But you’ll need to get off me.”

I watched his eyes close slowly and then I watched as emotion washed over his features.

And I did this mesmerized.

God.

Beautiful.

Then he touched his mouth to mine, slid out and got off me, pulling me up with him. He held me close with an arm around my waist as I got steady on my feet.

Then when I shot him a grin, he muttered, “Nightie, babe, desk.”

So that was the soft whoosh.

My man, even pissed, he always remembered to take care of me.

My grin got bigger.

Then I went to the desk and pulled the red, silk and lace short nightie with the high slits up my sides that Knight bought for me over my head. I shot him another grin as I walked out to see he was still standing at the couch, he’d adjusted his trousers and his eyes were on me.

The minute I knew he lost sight of me, I moved fast.

I had it all planned and I put it in motion quickly. I cleaned up and took my shoes off. Then I grabbed the bag of wrapped presents. Then I went to where I’d hidden the store bought, fancy decorated cake with the candles and lighter. I shoved the candles in and lit them. Then balancing the cake in both hands with the bag of presents dangling, I went back to his study.

Knight was sitting, ass to the desk where I’d spent a memorable amount of time, legs stretched out in front of him, eyes to his crossed feet, hands at his sides, fingers curled around the desk’s edge but his head came up when I walked in carrying the cake.

His eyes went to the cake then to me and instantly his face got soft and his eyes warm but surprised and definitely pleased.

Totally beautiful.

“Jesus, baby,” he whispered as I walked to him.

I stopped in front of him.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

His eyes stayed locked to mine.

“Anya.”

I waited. He said no more.

“Make a wish and blow out your candles, honey,” I whispered.

His body didn’t move and neither did his eyes.

“Make a wish, Knight.”

His eyes then moved, roaming my face, down my body, the cake, more of me then back to my eyes.

“Honey, the candles are gonna burn out,” I prompted on a grin.

“Let ‘em,” he replied. “Got nothin’ I want. Everything I want is standing right in front of me.”

Oh.

My.

God.

My nose stung and my eyes filled with tears.

“Please,” I begged softly, “blow out the candles, Knight.”

He held my eyes. One tear slid out my left, followed by another on my right.

Then he bent forward and blew out the candles.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He grabbed the cake and plopped it on his desk. Then he pulled the bag out of my hand and tossed it on one of the two chairs angled at the front of it. Then he yanked me between his legs, in his arms, doing it roughly, holding me tight, one arm around my waist, one hand in my hair, his mouth crushed down on mine and he plundered it.

I melted into him, my arms snaking around him and I let him.

He let my lips go, my head moved back an inch and his hand slid around to cup my jaw, his thumb moving through the wet left by the tear.

“Don’t cry for me, Anya, don’t ever cry for me,” he murmured.

“Is that an order?” I teased and his eyes went from his thumb to mine.

“Yes.”

My arms slid from around him so my hands could curl around his neck and I pressed up so I could touch my forehead to his.

“Lemon drops,” he murmured and I smiled.

He remembered.

God, I loved this man.

“Praise God for faulty, cheap cell phones,” I muttered. Knight’s body gave a short jerk then both his arms closed around me hard as he burst out laughing.

* * *

“So which present do you like best?”

I was fishing for information, lying in bed in my red nightie next to and mostly on Knight, up on a forearm in his chest, smiling into his face.

“Uh… seriously? You askin’ that shit?”

“Scary, crazy, hot punishment and resulting scary, crazy, hot, hard fucking not included,” I amended my question and Knight’s arm curled around my waist got tight as he chuckled.

Then he answered, “The Black Sabbath tee.”

I tipped my head to the side and asked, “Not the biography on Beethoven?”

“Babe, got no time to read.”

“But you like his music.”

“What?”

“It was playing in your office when you, um… carried me in that first time.”

He studied me but I could tell he was harking back then his face got soft and he asked quietly, “You remember that?”

I felt my face get soft too and I whispered, “I remember everything.”

His hand slid up my side even as his arm got tight again. He murmured, “Baby.” I dropped closer and he finished, “But that was Bach.”

It was me who blinked then I giggled and asked, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, whatever,” I muttered then offered, “If you don’t read, I will. Out loud. In bed. To you.” I grinned. “Naked.”

He grinned back and remarked, “Bet that’ll make Beethoven interesting.”