Midnight Muse

Maybe we should fuck in the back alley, I think, as desire rolls through me at the thought of him pressing me into the brick, taking what he wants.

“Just put a canvas down,” I suggest, voice hoarse with need. “Let’s make some art.”

Knox grunts like I’ve shot him, bucking his hips against me. I can feel how big he is and all I want to do is unleash his confined cock from his pants, run my fingers across the hardness of it, taste him on my tongue?—

“Easy,” he warns me playfully, but his eyes are dark. There’s a strain to his voice that tells me I should keep going. When I do, Knox gently removes my hands form where they’ve strayed to his belt. I hadn’t even noticed that my fingers had moved to his waist all on their own.

“Fuck,” I wince. “Sorry.”

“Say fuck again,” he asks, distracted. The hue of his eyes drip with lust, pupils blown wide as he stares me down. It fills me with a raw heat that has my confidence sparking and I bat my eyelashes up at him like I’m going to make him beg for it. His thumb brushes across my bottom lip, watching me intently as I repeat the word. “Filthy, Princess,” he breathes against my mouth. “Every time you called me a prick or asshole or whatever creative curses you came up with, I wanted to taste them off your lips and fuck those words right out of your mouth.”

I can’t help but rub against him like a horny teenager.

My pussy is throbbing with need. I moan again as Knox gives in, dipping his head and sucking harshly on my neck. The burn of the suction feels so good.

I need to feel it on my clit.

“Shit,” I whine. His hands are everywhere now, winding down the length of my back, grabbing a handful of my ass to keep me glued to his front. “Need your cock, Knox,” I pant, and he’s moving back to my mouth, kissing me so forcefully that the both of us stumble backwards.

“You’ll get it, Princess,” he promises, hands dragging hot lines across my body. I’ve waited too long for this, for us to finally be on the same page. I’m about to beg him again, because my failed attempts at convincing him to fuck me right here on the floor are not working, but suddenly, the lights to the gallery cut out, sending the entire room into a pit of darkness.

It’s like we’re in the elevator all over again.

Knox groans and I can’t help the nervous laugh that bubbles up from the back of my throat.

This better not be some horror movie shit.

“What the hell?” I question, turning to look over my shoulder to see if in fact the entire room has succumbed to the same darkness. I don’t miss the way that Knox’s grip tightens on me as I move like I might disappear entirely if he lets go. My heart stutters in my chest because of it.

“Silvio told me this would happen at midnight,” Knox supplies, and I relax a little, knowing that the hooded murder from Red Grave isn’t about to pop out and slaughter us in the goriest way possible.

Small victories, and all that.

I fake an excited gasp. “My very own Cinderella moment! I’ve always wanted one!”

The smirk in Knox’s tone is clear as day when he answers, amusement echoing in the darkness. “Except, unlike Cinderella, you’ll be getting dick tonight.”

I swat at him, but hardly connect. Knox chuckles, deep and throaty and the sound buzzes warm between my thighs. Being on his good side is already proving to be spectacular, but he can’t keep torturing me like this.

“I think the dark really sets the mood, don’t you agree?” I ask as I move back into him, my fingers fumbling to find the top button of his shirt.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he grouses, catching my hands and guiding me through the dark gallery instead. The flashlight of his phone flickers on and I squint as Knox leads the way, my hand tucked tightly in his as I find my heels and hobble back into them with a soft hiss. They’re already aching and protesting the action. “When I fuck you, I’m going to need to see all of those pretty faces you’re going to make for me.”

I stumble and blame it on my shoes.

Knox swipes our abandoned champagne glasses from the floor and with my free hand, I grab the almost empty bottle. He leads me through the gallery into a back room, which must be the way to the exit at the rear of the building.

Inside is a kitchenette. Knox dumps the glasses in the sink with a loud clang.

When I scold him for not washing them, he arches a brow, illuminated by the glaring light coming from his phone. “Oh, now you want to stay longer and clean up?” He questions and I roll my eyes in response. “Is this my punishment for wanting to take you home and fuck you in a nice, comfy bed? C’mon, Princess, you know just how soft it is, don’t you?”

I shiver at his words. I do know exactly how comfortable it is. I haven’t stopped thinking about his fluffy pillows or the way the mattress conformed perfectly to my body, how the thick blankets and lush smell of him surrounded me.

He’s right, I don’t give a fuck about the damn glasses.

The ride back the apartment is both the longest ride I’ve ever endured and also the most tension-filled.

It’s difficult to focus on anything other than Knox’s hand in mine, the soft and rigid texture of his skin; the way that his thumb soothes gentle circles across my hand where they’re intertwined in my lap. He’s warm, and it’s settling something in me while simultaneously forming a rock in my stomach when I think about what he’s endured to gain these scars.