Page 66 of Brutal Knight

The want I feel is so unexpected and strong that I almost can’t move. It’s a desire curling low in my belly, spreading fire through my veins.

In my head, I see Connor kissing my leg as he lifts it over his shoulder. I can see his cock rest against my body before he thrusts into me and hits so deep I see stars.

I can’t help myself. I slide my hand over my stomach, between my legs. I press a finger against my clit and feel spikes of pleasure shoot through me when I touch myself, slowly exploring. I’m amazed just how much I can feel from just one touch, amazed that I’m not numb to it all.

Suddenly, I’m pulled from my bubble as Connor’s hand slides along my arm, gripping my wrist. My heart stops for just one second.

His voice is a low growl when he says, “That’s my job.”

I’ve never had my heart skip a beat in a good way. It does now.

I pull my hand away as Connor starts to touch me, just as slow and experimental as I was. I know he must know what to do to make me come fast, but that’s not what he’s doing now.

The pleasure that builds is slow—torturously slow, almost enough to make me beg him to move faster. Every little wave of pleasure that hits me makes me want to lean into his touch, urge him to do more. But I use all my control and hold back.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Connor says, his voice low. I can feel his breath on my neck.

I try to concentrate enough to answer. “I thought…I thought I was broken.”

I don’t know how else to say that I was testing myself. I was checking, wondering if the overdose had just magically changed something for one night. Some small part of me wondered if that one night with Connor was real, or if it was a dream. If I really felt anything at all.

“You’re not broken,” he murmurs.

I don’t answer. I don't speak at all. I give myself over to this, letting Connor do what he wants and just feeling everything. I don’t have to be in control of this moment. I want to let him handle it. I want him to make me feel good, and for once, I don’t want to worry.

His finger slides along my clit, venturing farther, but not quite sliding into me yet. I gasp a little when he presses at my entrance. I want more, and I’m certain he knows that. But he won’t give it to me just yet.

“It scared the fuck out of me to find you unconscious,” Connor murmurs. “Never do that again.”

My mind spins. I think I’d agree to anything right now just to have him keep touching me.

But I try to focus enough to talk, blinking rapidly as I try to organize my thoughts. It’s difficult, waves of pleasure jostling me like a boat on the ocean.

It takes all of my willpower to form the right words. “Will you lock me up again?”

Connor’s hand moves faster, his fingers expertly swirling over my clit. The spike of arousal that shoots through me makes me gasp, my eyes fluttering shut with the power of it.

“No,” he growls. “Because you’re my goddamn wife, and I want to trust you. So I’m going to trust you and hope like hell you deserve that trust.”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my mind clear. Something about his words hits me hard. The fact that he wants to trust me consumes me.

I never expected him to want to trust me, or to even try. I did a terrible thing when I betrayed his family. I know it’s not black and white. I was abused, in pain, drugged. It wasn’t all my fault, but I wasn’t blameless, either.

Yet Connor is still here trying to help me, trying to prove that I’m worth trusting.

I don’t know if he’s trying to show me, himself, or someone else that I can be trusted. I’m not sure it matters. All I know is that he’s trying so damn hard, and I don’t want to break that. I want to show him he’s not wrong.

That this thing between us really could be something.

That thought terrifies me as much as it thrills me. I try to imagine what it would be like to live like this—Connor loving me, my life no longer a series of painful moments and anxiety strung together. It’s like a paradise. I never thought I could have something like this.

But maybe I can. Maybe I do.

Connor slides a finger inside me, and I moan, arching into his touch. His other hand slides over my thigh, hooking my leg over his to open me wider.

My hips start to move without my permission. It’s blind need, pure instinct as I thrust back into him. Connor’s hand presses against my hip and holds me still against him.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his breath hot on my neck. He kisses me as he adds another finger inside.

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