Page 45 of Pucking Knox
He does it again slowly and then pulls out. He starts picking up his pace, and I feel like I’m suffocating but absolutely loving it. His head rolls back after a few pumps and then he’s coming down my throat. He pulls out quickly, and I can breathe again.
"So fucking good," he says, pulling me up and kissing my mouth. He lifts me up, so I wrap my legs around him. When his dick presses against my opening, he says, "You’re everything to me. I probably won’t fucking say it enough outside of this moment, but you are, Kennedy. Don’t ever forget it."
I nod, feeling like I’m on top of the world.
He presses his dick against me. "This dick. Me. All of me…is yours. And you’re mine."
I kiss him, feeling the water get cooler.
"You’re all mine."
The rest of the beach week passes in a haze of stolen moments. We don’t have another shower together, but he’s holding my hand and kissing me. We play board games and stay up all night. He helps me in the kitchen and cleans with me. I could see us together in the future just like this. Each kiss leaves me desperate as I continue to count down the days.
Then we return to reality, and everything shifts.
"Perfect timing," Patricia says the moment we're back. She hasn’t lectured me about staying with Knox. "Your father has three campaign events this week. The press wants family photos, interviews about your relationship..."
Just like that, the dream bursts.
Knox plays his part perfectly – charming reporters, handling interview questions about our love story, looking every inch the reformed bad boy who found redemption in the senator's daughter.
Too perfectly.
"Tell us," one reporter asks at a fundraising dinner, "what made you fall for Kennedy?"
Knox's answer is smooth, practiced. "How could I not? She sees the best in everyone, even someone like me. Makes me want to be worthy of that faith."
The quote makes all the papers. My father actually smiles when he reads it.
"Perhaps I was wrong about him," Dad says over breakfast. "He seems to be a stabilizing influence. Keeping you focused on your future instead of... rebellion."
The words hit like a slap. Because that's exactly what this started as – rebellion. Using each other for our own ends. And it turned into my father’s approval. It was quite the opposite I was shooting for.
But this is different now. Isn't it?
"Kennedy?" Knox's voice pulls me from my thoughts. We're at another campaign event, his hand warm on my back. "You okay?"
"Fine." But I'm not. Because he's being perfect again – saying all the right things, charming all the right people. "Just tired."
He studies my face. "Want to get out of here?"
"Can't." I gesture to where Patricia is waving us over. "Duty calls."
The next few days pass in a blur of appearances and interviews. Knox grows more distant with each one, pulling away whenever we're alone. The passion from the beach house feels like a dream.
"Maybe it's the pressure," Sawyer suggests when I confide in her. "The combine is next week."
"Maybe." But I can't shake the fear that it's something else. That he's realized he doesn’t want this life with me. I’m the Senator’s daughter, and that comes with pressure. He is playing along way too well. I’m still counting down the days, but it doesn’t feel like we’re connected anymore.
The final straw comes during an interview with a magazine. The reporter asks about our future plans.
"Taking it day by day," Knox says smoothly. "Kennedy's been good for me. Helped me grow up, you know?"
Grow up.Like I'm some phase he needed to get through. Some rebellion he had to overcome.
Later, in my dorm room, I stare at the ceiling and try not to cry. Because maybe that's all this ever was – him helping the senator's daughter through her wild phase, using it to clean up his image for the draft.
Maybe the beach house was just another lesson. Maybe every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise was just part of the game.
