Knox (A Merrick Brothers Novel)

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Knox (A Merrick Brothers Novel) Page 16

by Prescott Lane


  Grabbing my suitcase, I head toward Mae’s house. I had the driver stop pretty far down the driveway because I didn’t want the car to wake her. I have a more pleasant way in mind to wake her up.

  Despite the fact that I haven’t slept all night, my cock still twitches at the thought. It’s only been a few days since I’ve seen her, but it’s been way too long already. Each absence feels like an eternity, like it did when we were younger, and I was waiting for one of her cassettes to arrive in the mail. I’m not a patient person. And my dick is certainly not a patient organ.

  So even though I’ll have less than twenty-four hours with Mae, I still made the trip. The naughty little photos she sent are incredible, but they can only go so far. I need the real her.

  Rocks and leaves gently crunch under my feet as I make my way through the darkness. I’m closing in on her porch when I’m suddenly blinded by lights. I’m used to having lights flashed in my face, even when I’m not expecting it. Normally I smile, try to play nice—but not at this fucking hour, and not with high powered motion detector lights, either.

  Holding my hand up over my face, I step onto her porch. I feel it before I even smell it—the slick, squishy feel under my shoe. Crap!

  Yes, literally crap.

  I just stepped right in a pile of shit. Happens to us “famous” people, too. We are not immune to sticking our foot in it. But if any woman is worth stepping in shit, it’s Mae. That still doesn’t stop me from mumbling a string of F-bombs. I know she likes living at the lake, close to nature, but this is a little too close.

  Back in the day, my brother Ryder and I used to do a lot of camping and hiking with our dad. He routinely showed us animal droppings. If you spend any time outdoors, it’s good knowledge to have. Deer shit looks a lot different from bear shit, and you do not want to pitch your tent next to bear droppings.

  It’s all mushed under my shoe, so I can’t tell what animal left this lovely gift for Mae. I’m certainly hoping it was an animal of the less lethal variety.

  If I wasn’t living this at the moment, I’d think it was a movie comedy sketch. Guy shows up late at night for a booty call and ends up stepping in shit. That could be pretty funny. I wonder how that story would play out.

  I slip off my shoes and place them on the porch. I’ll clean it all up for her tomorrow. I have other—better—things on my mind now.

  Using the key she gave me, I unlock the door, and a head splitting siren hammers my ears. Fuck!

  If the security lights or my outburst after stepping in crap didn’t wake her, this is sure to do it. Mae didn’t warn me she’d have the alarm set or give me a code to shut it off!

  “Knox!” I hear her call.

  “Yeah! What’s the code?” I yell back, dropping my suitcase.

  She yells it back to me, and I quickly turn the damn thing off. I’m about to apologize when I turn around, and Mae comes flying into my arms. She’s not naked like I requested, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen someone so happy to see me, and that’s saying something. I try to pull back to kiss her, but she clings tighter to me.

  This isn’t a romantic embrace. I feel her trembling.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” I say, trying to get a look at her face.

  “Nothing,” she says. “It’s nothing.”

  “Then why are you dressed?” I tease, tickling her a little.

  She lets out the tiniest giggle, relaxing a bit, then I pick her up, her legs wrapping around my waist. She rests her head on my shoulder as I carry her into the bedroom. But I don’t make it past the doorway before I freeze at the sight of the shining silver blade of a huge kitchen knife resting on her nightstand.

  Mae places her feet on the ground, knowing what stopped me in my tracks. “It’s nothing. I got a little scared,” she says, going to get the knife.

  I take it from her. “A little scared?” I ask, guessing the blade on this thing is at least eight inches long.

  “It’s stupid,” she says. “Earlier, I thought I heard something on my porch. The motion lights came on. I just freaked myself out.”

  Mae is beautiful no matter what state she is in. But I can see the worry on her face. She’s more than a little scared. “Whatever it was,” I say, showing her my bare feet, “I stepped in its shit on my way in.”

  She covers her mouth with her hand to try to hide her laugh. Apparently, my stepping in animal feces is a riot.

  “So that’s what it was! I’m so sorry,” she says, still laughing. “God, now I feel really stupid.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “You were in California getting on a plane,” she says.

  “Still,” I say, combing my fingers through her hair, “if you were afraid, you should’ve called me.”

  “I wasn’t sure if we were doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know,” she deflects. “I’m tired.”

  “So am I.”

  “Then let’s not get into it now.”

  “I want to know why you didn’t call me, and don’t tell me it was because I was in California and flying. Tell me the real reason.”

  “Because it felt like something a girlfriend would do. Call her boyfriend when she’s scared.”

  My eyes narrow because I don’t like hearing that. The crap on her porch didn’t piss me off, but this shit certainly is. But perhaps she’s right, and we shouldn’t talk about this now. She’s tired, I’m tired, it’s late. That’s the recipe for a fight if ever there was one.

  “And a man flying overnight to see his girl for just a few hours feels more like . . . what?” I ask. “A long-distance booty call?”

  “You trying to say you didn’t come here for sex?” she asks, her hand finding her hip.

  “Of course I did,” I say. Her cute little mouth falls open slightly, but before she can say anything, I cup her cheek in my hand. “I’d really like to have sex with my girlfriend now.”

  She’s clearly been hesitant to label this, us, to go all in. And I haven’t been able to pin her down. It hasn’t bothered me too much. I know she’s worried about getting hurt, but I don’t like the fact that she wouldn’t call me when she was scared.

  She flashes me a smile and says, “I’ll call you next time.”

  Damn right, she will! That was the only answer I was going to accept this time. I move closer to her, lifting her shirt over her head, her gorgeous tits coming into view. I love that she doesn’t reach to turn out the lights, allowing me to see her, enjoy all of her. Her nipples are hard and erect, and I know her little bud must be the same way.

  The plane ride was enough foreplay for me, thinking of nothing else but this moment.

  The moment I get to have her.

  I slip my hands under the waistband of her sweatpants, gliding them down the soft skin of her legs. She steps out of them, and I step back just a little to get a look at her. Damn, her body is perfect—curvy, her skin flushed as she stands naked before me.

  Sinking to the floor, I rest my back against the footboard then pull her to me, burying my head between her legs. One long, slow suck, then I let my tongue circle her. I love eating her pussy. There’s no other way to say it. I love focusing solely on her, her pleasure. During sex, I’m obviously thinking about her, but not like now. Now, I don’t miss a moan, a tremor, or a delicious taste of her. It’s all mine for the taking.

  Placing my hands on her ass, I pull her tighter to my mouth, slipping my tongue just inside her. Her muscles clench. She loves this as much as I do. That’s just one of the many reasons we are so compatible.

  Some guys see oral sex as a means to an end, a necessary evil to get to intercourse. Not me. Some of my greatest memories are of jerking myself off while eating her pussy. That was a daily occurrence back in college before we had actual sex. It’s probably one of the reasons she kept her virginity for so long—she knew how satisfying she was to me.

  Still, as good as this is, there is nothing like being buried deep inside her, he
r eyes glued on mine as her orgasm builds inside of her. I feel it now on my tongue, the slightest quivers of pleasure about to explode. She starts to thrust ever so slightly. It’s the best feeling in the world to have Mae fuck my mouth. I use my fingers to spread her open wider, and she cries out, her orgasm making my dick pulse against my jeans like she’s calling to him.

  Lightly, I plant little kisses along her folds and down her inner thighs. When I’m sure she has total use of her legs, I work my way to my feet, wrapping my arms around her and whispering, “Bend over.”

  She doesn’t question me. Mae’s up for most anything in the bedroom, and she trusts me completely. Running my hand across the smooth skin of her ass, I’m in awe of how incredible she looks, naked and bent over the bottom of her bed.

  “Stay there,” I order softly.

  Quickly, I retrieve my suitcase from where I dropped it in the den, taking out a couple items. When I walk back into her bedroom, she’s exactly as I left her—ass in the air, waiting for me.

  Kneeling again, I plant a kiss on her ass cheek as I tie one of her ankles to the bedpost with my silk necktie. Thank God, she doesn’t have one of those huge California king bed frames, or this would never work. I fasten the other ankle with a different tie. She lets out a breathy moan, the anticipation making her horny as hell again.

  Unzipping my jeans, I look down and watch her toes curl. Mae loves sex. It’s one of the things I love about her. I never have to convince her or hope she’s in the mood. When she was with me, she pretty much lived in the mood.

  Making quick work of the rest of my clothes, I step up behind her, my dick poised at her entrance. She’s warm and wet and so ready for me. I’ve missed this freedom so much. The freedom of being with someone who is your sexual equal. Some women would shy away from being tied up, but not Mae. She loves it.

  Being a famous actor has hindered me in the bedroom. I used to love nothing more than slipping my finger inside Mae in public, watching her quiver and secretly orgasm under my fingers. I can’t do that stuff anymore. It’s too risky. If some photographer caught a picture of that, the scandal would never die, and I would never put a woman through that, especially Mae. It would kill me to see her go through something like that. So we’re just going to have to keep our sexual creativity private.

  Binding her ankles forces her to stay spread wide for me. Using the head of my cock, I outline her. Her slick wetness slides over me, gliding me inside, back where I belong. She releases a sensual moan, and it’s the only go ahead I need to take hold of her hips and slowly slide myself in and out. It’s like the best torture. So slow that I know I won’t come, but it feels so damn good. Slipping my hand between her legs, my fingers circle her clit. It’s like an on button, making her push back on my dick faster and harder.

  The fact that she can’t really move her legs is making her clench her muscles that much harder, desperate for release. I can tell she wants it, needs it—now. I don’t want to torture her. So I’ll give her what she wants, but I’m not ready for this to be over.

  She tosses her head back as the walls of her vagina convulse around me, and she collapses onto the bed. I slip myself out of her, untying her ankles. Kissing a path up her body, I join her in bed, flipping her over, and taking my place between her legs. She groans, and I know she’s sore.

  Love that.

  So this time, I’ll be gentle. Her blue eyes flutter open as I grind my hips into hers. “Slow this time, baby,” I whisper.

  She reaches up, running her hands through my hair, her eyes never leaving mine. This is the other great thing about Mae in bed. While she likes being tied up, and doesn’t mind the occasional spanking, she doesn’t need it. She can just as easily come like this. Just me and her—without toys or kinky shit.

  The only thing she really needs is me. And the only thing I’ll ever need is her.

  *

  We’re spending a lazy summer Sunday afternoon at the lake, something we used to do all the time as teenagers. Back then, it was the perfect excuse for me to see her in a bikini. Now, I wish we were skinny dipping, but sadly, we’re not. Even though it’s pretty private back here, no one else is around, and her house blocks anyone from spying on us from the road, I still wouldn’t risk it.

  We’ve been swimming in the lake for the past hour or so, both of us trying to ignore the fact that our little reunion soon is coming to an end.

  “Sorry about your shoes,” Mae says, splashing some water on my head.

  “They’re just shoes,” I say, pulling her into a kiss.

  By morning, my shoes had disappeared from her porch. I can only assume some animal, perhaps a stray dog, is having a field day gnawing on the leather.

  She glances around a little. “I need to start thinking about getting cleaned up. I have work.”

  “Quit,” I tease.

  She giggles. “Why don’t you quit? Then you can stay here with me all the time.”

  “I just might do that,” I say, kissing her again.

  “What time is your flight?”

  “One in the morning,” I say. “I pushed it as late as I could. That will give me just enough time to get ready for the morning show circuit.”

  “My show’s not over until midnight,” she says, her lips in a little pout.

  “I could come with you?” I offer. “Watch you in action on the radio.”

  She doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t say no. She looks like she’s thinking hard about it, making a pro/con list in her head.

  “That way we can spend more time together,” I say.

  “Maybe so! No one’s really at the station at that hour, so no one will see you. It would be easy enough to sneak you in and out,” she says, weighing the options. “Amy will be there. She screens calls for me. She’d love to meet you. I think she’s a fan.”

  “Then I can come?” I ask. She nods, and I twirl her around in the water, making waves. “Any way I can convince you to fly to California for the week?”

  “Aren’t you in New York?”

  “Only Monday,” I say. “I could meet you at my place on Tuesday.”

  “Don’t you have work things to do?”

  “Yeah, but there’s nights,” I say, giving her butt a healthy squeeze.

  “I . . .”

  My heart sinks a little. Her hesitation is enough of an answer. I’m not going to get what I want, and I don’t like it. I’m willing to keep flying here for her, but I need to know that she’s eventually going to be a part of my life, too. This can’t be a one-way street. Releasing her, I move toward the edge of the lake to get out.

  “Knox,” she says, taking hold of my elbow. “It’s just, I like you coming here. It feels like our own secret escape. Like nothing can touch us here.”

  “I love your life here, Mae. But I want to share my life with you, too. I want to show you my house, the beach, my favorite places to eat. My life.”

  “Can we do those things without ending up on the cover of some magazine?” she asks.

  “We can try,” I say. “You have your life. I have mine. Both are great, but we have to figure out what our life is going to look like. Yours and mine, together.”

  “I need to talk to the station heads first,” she says.

  “Why?”

  “Because when you and I go public, it won’t take long before someone figures out what I do for a living, who I am. My contract demands my identity stay hidden. They’re already upset . . .”

  “About what?”

  “You calling the station,” she says, getting out of the lake. “Using my name.”

  “Did they know it was me calling?” I ask.

  “No,” she says.

  “Perhaps me going to the station with you tonight isn’t a good idea, then,” I say.

  “Tonight will be fine,” she says, sounding confident about her decision.

  “When did you find out they were upset?” I say, rushing out of the water to catch up with her. “You never told me.”

 
; “A few days ago. I had a meeting with some of the higher ups.”

  I take hold of her waist. There’s more. I know there is. I can feel it.

  “They thought it was necessary to remind me about the terms of my contract, and that I’m up for renewal at the end of the year.”

  “They threatened you? And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

  “I handled it,” she says with a shrug.

  “Not the point,” I bark. “Christ, Mae.”

  “Look, as soon as they find out that it was Knox Merrick calling the show, and not some random ex-boyfriend, they will be singing a different tune.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I figured you were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you. And also, I’m not going to use our relationship to advance my career. I talk about myself on my show, my experiences.”

  “I’ve heard,” I say, an edge in my voice. It wasn’t easy to listen to her talk about dating other guys.

  “I never used names. I always keep things vague, but I won’t be able to do that with you. And I’m sure your people won’t like me talking about our personal life so publicly.”

  “No, they won’t,” I admit.

  “So as soon as you and I hit the newsstands, my career is going to implode.”

  She has a point. I’m not sure what to say. We are just standing in her yard, staring at each other. My body feels heavy, like someone just laid a ton of bricks on my shoulders, and everything around us must feel it, too. There’s not a bird chirping, or a wave rippling. It’s total silence. I hadn’t considered any of this.

  I knew I was asking her to give up her privacy to be with me, but I didn’t know that included her career, everything she’s worked so hard for. When I showed up in Haven’s Point, Mae asked if I had considered her when I made the decision to come back, if I considered what it would mean for her, how she would feel.

  The truth is, I didn’t. At the time, I only thought about what I wanted. How much I wanted to see her again. My singular focus on winning her back was selfish. I just didn’t realize how much so until right now.

 

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