Knight: The Wordsmiths Book One

by Harlan, Christopher

  “Oh, you’re not writing anything? I thought I saw a post a while back where you posted some of what you were working on. I assumed you were done.”

  Her words unintentionally hit me like a punch to the gut. I know that she’s just asking an honest question, but it hits on an insecurity that I’ve never been directly confronted with before by another person. Usually I beat myself up about my recent inability to finish a book, but to hear someone else—and a reader no less—say that makes me realize that I need to get my ass going already.

  “It’s been a rough time. I’ll tell you the honest truth. I haven’t done a lot more with that since you saw that post. I’ve had some issues myself.”

  “Like writer’s block?” she asks. “I’ve heard that can be horrible.”

  “Sort of. But. . .” I stop because I’m not sure how much I want to tell her about Jenny. I just met this woman a few minutes ago and I don’t know how far down the lesbian-cheating-ex rabbit hole I want to go just yet. But she was straight forward with me when she didn’t have to be. So I take a deep breath and just go for it. “Similar thing as you, actually. My wife and I got a divorce and I haven’t written much since then. I know one should have nothing to do with the other, but I’ve been blocked, like you said.”

  She looks at me in a way I don’t expect—with compassion in her eyes. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I totally get why that would keep you from being creative. I’m not a writer or anything, but I’d think that you have to be in the right headspace to do something creative and time consuming like writing a novel.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “That’s true. But still, that was a year ago, and I’m running out of excuses. I think maybe it’s time to get back to it.”

  “Maybe something this weekend will inspire you.”

  She’s making that face again. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and I can’t get enough. “I’m hoping so.”

  I feel a hard pat on my back from behind. It’s Colt. He leans into my ear from behind. “They’re gonna want us to come back later and have a few drinks. Me and Gray are gonna go unpack and shower before we come back. You coming up?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “In a minute.”

  “Cool, see you up there.”

  I turn back to Everleigh, who’s looking gorgeous as ever, and I feel bad that I have to continue our conversation later on. “I hate to cut this short, but I need to go get my shit together. Unpack my books, take a shower, all that stuff. Are you going to be around in a little?”

  “Absolutely. I’m here with my friends Rowan and Harley, only Harley’s not here yet. We’ll be in and out of the bar. Eventually we’ll probably go out and explore the town a little, get something to eat so we’re not on a pure alcohol diet.”

  “I’ve been on that diet before, it’s not that bad. Send me a private message or something and let me know where you guys are in a few hours, if you want.”

  “How about I just give you my number and you text me?”

  “That works, too.” I didn’t want to ask for her number outright. I didn’t know if she would feel comfortable giving it to a guy she just met, but I was wrong. Maybe she’s feeling what I’m feeling.

  “Here you go.” She takes my phone, types in her number, and saves it.

  “Until later, then, Everleigh.”

  “Until later.”

  5

  Knight

  I’m already fantasizing about Everleigh by the time I hit my room. It was a quick elevator ride up, but more than enough time to let me imagine her naked in all sorts of compromising positions. Like I said—she is sex embodied. Gray and Colt are sharing a room, but I opted to go solo. I like my space, and if I’m going to write any new words I’m going to need total silence. That’ll be hard to achieve in this environment, but I’m going to try to steal a few minutes of me time before the responsibilities of the signing take over. I know the guys are going to unpack and then head back down to the bar. There are a bunch of readers hanging out down there waiting for us to join in the fun. I don’t know if I’m even going to go. I decide to text them.

  Me: Hey. Are you guys going down?

  Gray: Yeah, in a little. It’s early still, and those women aren’t going anywhere, trust me. Gotta finishing unpacking first. Colt still has a few more boxes of shit to grab from the car. You?

  Me: I’m not sure. I’m exhausted.

  Gray: You should come down, dude. The women love your ugly ass for some reason. Did you hear some of them whisper when you walked in before to say hi? “Michael Knight—OH MY GOD!” They’d be disappointed if you didn’t at least make an appearance.

  Me: I’ll go. I just need a little while to refresh from the drive. Maybe take a shower or something. Then I wanna hit the gym.

  Gray: You’re so weird. Who showers and then hits the gym. Fuck, I don’t even know if they have a gym.

  Me: They do. I checked.

  Gray: Of course you checked. How long will that be?

  Me: I don’t know. At least a half hour, then another to take a shower.

  Gray: When did you become such a gym rat?

  Me: When I realized it helped lift me out of my depression when I stress my body.

  Gray: Did you mean that as a pun?

  Me: Oh. No! But it works. It’s a non-negotiable. We don’t have to all be together the whole time. You two go, I’ll be there eventually, don’t worry.

  Gray: Whatever works man. I’ll text when we’re getting close to going down.

  Me: Sounds good, bro. Thanks.

  I put my phone down and step inside the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water crashes against my skin, and the steam is so thick that I can barely see in front of me. I take a few deep breaths to let it into my lungs, then I put my arms against the wall and lean forward. The water drips furiously across my neck and down past my face, slamming into the shower floor while I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

  It’s there, in the solitude of the shower, as the hot water massages my tired back, that I make a decision—I’m going to move on. I’m done moping around, feeling sorry for myself, and complaining. In fact, I’m going to do my best to not even think about Jenny anymore. I’m not going to dwell on anything negative. Instead, I’m going to use this weekend for what it is—an opportunity to have a good time, move my career forward, and hopefully get some words written if I have time with everything else.

  I open my eyes and see the barrage of water hitting my toes and circling the drain before disappearing. The sound is intense around my ears, and I vow that when I lift my head up, I’ll be a new man and a new author—the new Michael Knight.

  I like to air dry, so I run a towel over my wet hair really quickly and then wrap another one around my waist. My laptop is sitting in my bag, and I reach for it right away. I’m naked as the day I was born and still a little wet all over, but I’m feeling that twinge of writing inspiration and I don’t want the moment to pass.

  I take my computer out of my bag and open up the file for my latest book—the one I’ve been writing for about a year now—the one that has no title and very few words. Actually, saying I’ve been writing it for a year is a little misleading. It would be more accurate to say that I started it a year ago, and right now it’s less of a book and more of a collection of random scenes with not much of a plot glueing them together. When the file opens I scroll down to the bottom, and I remember that I’m in the middle of a sex scene. The main character—who still has no name—and the female character are about to get into it. I read the words I’ve written so far.

  She turned to him with that look in her eye—the one that let him know it was time. There was absolutely no mistaking the intention in her look, and he didn’t have time to misinterpret anyhow. She pounced on him like a cougar—practically leaping across the room and attaching her body to his, making them one. Their lips smashed together passionately, hardening his cock instantly and making her so wet that she could feel the drip between her legs. There was only one thing that was g
oing to bring relief to both of their aches—and they each knew what it was. . .

  I stop reading when I realize that I’m hard.

  It happens all the time. Sounds strange to turn yourself on with your own writing, but when you have sex on the brain all the time it kind of comes with the territory. I take my fingers off the keyboard and look down. I reach down and pull my cock upwards, only I don’t let go right away. In fact, I decide that I’m not letting go at all.

  The scene in my book may have made me hard, but what’s keeping me at attention is her. . .Everleigh. Her name is as beautiful as she is, only she’s more than just beautiful, she’s fucking hot. She was wearing a blue dress that showed me just enough to keep me curious. On her bare neck she wore a small silver locket, which drew my attention to the smoothness of her skin.

  I start thinking about our meeting at the bar a few minutes ago, only I’m writing my own continuation of it in my head. I close my eyes, my right hand still tight around my now throbbing cock, and I clench both my fist and my eyes as the vision of her flows through my mind.

  We shake hands again, introducing ourselves to one another, only when our hands separate they don’t go back to our sides like happened in real life. No. They go elsewhere, where hands are meant to explore. Mine start on her shoulders and hers start on my face. She reaches up and places them on either cheek, as mine hold onto the outside of her shoulders. I feel the slight pull from her, and I don’t resist at all, I just lean over and let our faces get as close as two faces can be without touching.

  I think that she’s going to kiss me, but she stops the momentum of my head just before our lips touch. My mouth opens in anticipation of the kiss, and so does hers, and I feel her sweet breath inside of me, filling my mouth with her essence before we actually touch.

  I squeeze her shoulders, and as soon as she feels that pressure she jerks my face another inch downwards, and our mouths finally meet—our lips pressed deeply into one another. My hands start to wander lower on her body, framing the outside of her breasts, her waist, her hips, until I stop just above her knees. I let my hands linger there a little longer because her body feels amazing, but only for a second or two. After that they move further down, to the hem of her dress, and I grip onto it with my fingers. She’s still kissing me, and her hands have started to wander all over my chest—the palms of her hands framing my pecks and abs, moving up and down with no small amount of pressure.

  When her hands stop I make my move, yanking her dress upwards until it rolls gently past her hips and ass, and I hold the fabric at her waist. She starts to moan—a sound that makes me even harder than I thought I could get, and my dick is screaming to be let free of my pants, only it’s not time yet. Her hands are still hovering around my pecs, and as soon as I pull her dress up she digs her fingers into me, as though she’s trying to hold me in place as we kiss. I’m not going anywhere. As I lift the fabric a little more north, the backs of my hands graze against her naked hips, and their smoothness sends a tingle through my arms.

  She’s not wearing any underwear, and as soon as I feel that I let my right hand circle behind her, to her smooth bare ass, and I grab onto it. She gasps when I grab her, something I do firmly and suddenly to surprise her. I pull her even closer to me, until she has to come off of her stool and stand against me. Our bodies touch fully for the first time, and I can feel the softness of her form in contrast to the hardness of mine. I pull her in, still holding onto her juicy ass, and shove my body into her as our lips smash together again.

  Her hands start to go to work, only she’s not waiting for anything—there’s nothing methodical or calculated in her touch—she reaches straight down like she knows exactly what she wants, and grabs onto my manhood. My pants are still on, but she finds a way to wrap her fingers around my bulge and hold on tight, squeezing me to the point of blending pain and pleasure. I let go of her ass and grip the gathered fabric of her dress behind her body with just my right hand, and with my left I scoop under her right knee. I know she’s not expecting it, but I lift her leg up and put it on the bar, and it moves so easily that I’m amazed. She’s flexible as hell, and her leg just sits up on the bar at a 45 degree angle like it’s nothing.

  I separate from her and leave her leg there. She’s looking at me like she wants me as bad as I want her, and all I do is reach for my belt. With a few jerks it pulls free, and I pull my pants and underwear down then step out of them. Now there’s nothing between us except opportunity. The music is pumping in the background, only there’s no one else here but us. No one to watch or interrupt us, and no silly words to get in the way of what’s about to happen. I step into her—her pink, clean shaven pussy fully exposed, waiting for my throbbing cock to do its job. I lean in to kiss her again, and she reaches around the back of my neck to hold onto me.

  As we kiss I reach down and hold on to myself. I’m ready. I’m so fucking ready. I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life, and I hold onto the base of my shaft and aim towards her. I do it slowly so that I can feel every moment—experience every sensation her body has to offer. I stop right on the outside of her lips, the head of my cock begging to be let inside. I move myself in circles around the outside, teasing the head just inside of her, rubbing up and down on her clit. I feel like I’m going to come if I keep going. She’s too hot and this is too new, so I stop the tease even though she’s moaning in pleasure.

  “Fuck me, Michael,” she whispers to me.

  I position myself just right, and as I start to push forward, I feel myself sliding inside of her, and then. . .

  “Yo, asshole, what are you doing!” It’s Colton! He’s knocking on my room door and yelling. Fuck!

  “Hold on, man, I just got out of the shower. Text me or something I’m not even dressed.”

  “Stop touching yourself and let’s get going. I’m hitting up the bar now, there are a bunch of fans down there now posting on social media. Our audience awaits. You coming?”

  It’s an ironic choice of words on his part. If only he knew that I almost had, all over my hand and who-knows what else. My erection is starting to go down since he startled me, but my cock is still inside of my clenched fist. “Yeah, man, I told Grayson I’m just gonna chill for a while and then I’ll be down. You go ahead.”

  “You two are such old ladies. All right, I’ll hold down the fort. I’ll be our representative until you guys get your asses down to do some shots with the ladies.”

  “All right, man, meet you down there in a little.”

  I hear his footsteps as he walks away. My heart is still racing. He startled me out of my fantasy, but it was the imagery running through my head that’s made me feel like I’m having a damn heart attack. My laptop is still open to that same paragraph. I take my left hand and close it, then clean myself up with the towel I still have wrapped around my waist.

  I guess my imagination got the best of me. The wonders of being a writer. But God, did it feel real. She felt real. Everleigh. I wonder if she’s still down at the bar?

  Maybe I need to stop fantasizing and go find out for myself.

  6

  Everleigh

  “Where’s Harley?” I ask while texting her for like the seventeenth time. “I’m gonna kill that girl, I swear.”

  “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me you’re surprised that our best friend is late. she’s late for a living. I think she has a degree in lateness.”

  “I know,” I say, staring at my phone and waiting for her to text back. “But for this? I really thought she’d leave enough time. I even told her 5 o’clock expecting that she’d be late. But radio silence so far.”

  “She’ll be here,” Ro says calmly. “She always gets where she’s going, she’s just on her own Harley schedule. It’s part of what we love about her. And she may just not have a signal. My phone was going in and out on the trip.”

  “I guess.” I’m not really annoyed. Rowan is right, I should expect this of her. Harley’s a free spirit, which is a nice way
of saying that she can be flaky sometimes. On the good side she’s a super independent woman, which I respect the hell out of, but the flip side of that independence can sometimes be a lack of care for other people’s time. I should probably relax, though, it’s not like Ro and I are doing anything important. “I just wish the whole crew was here, that’s all.”

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Ro asks.

  “No, of course not,” I reassure her. “At worst you’re just regular liver. The non-chopped kind.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Ladies!” From behind me I hear a man’s voice, but I don’t recognize it at all. When I turn around I see a familiar face. It’s familiar only because of Facebook. His name is KL Steiner. That’s his pen name, anyhow, I have no idea what his real name is. KL is another male romance author who definitely isn’t in the group, and I’m taken aback the second I recognize him. What is he doing here? Rowan just stares, wondering who this strange guy is who’s approaching us, and I don’t have the time to explain before he’s hovering over us.

  “Hey,” I say, not knowing how else to respond.

  “Hey,” he says back.

  I can tell right away that he’s awkward as hell. I’ve known of KL Steiner for a few years now, but I’ve never read any of his books. He’s too taboo even for me. He’s an erotica author, which is a little different than a romance author. Erotica uses sex to drive the plot, whereas in romance books there is a plot that also has some hot sex in it—hopefully. KL is one of those erotica authors who uses the most shocking scenarios and extreme sex scenes.

  His fans are loyal—rabid, even. If any reader says anything bad about KL on social media, or even leaves a bad review on Amazon or Goodreads, his fans will gang up on her like a pack of wolves. His readers create drama all over the indie community. Personally, I don’t care what turns people on, but his shtick as a male author has always turned me off. That, and the fact that his writing isn’t very good. And now I get to look at his ugly face in person, in a place I never thought I’d see it.