Page 79 of Knox Academy Omnibus
His long talented fingers slide up the inside of my leg, catching every nerve ending, and my back arches at his contact with my clit. His finger rubs over me slowly, torturing me in the most delicious way possible. Just before I succumb to a burst of pleasure, he pulls away, positioning himself on top of me. It feels too good to piss me off. His dark chocolate brown eyes roam over my face, as if he is committing this moment to memory.
He slides inside me, and all thought is driven from my mind as I get lost in the sensations he creates with each thrust of his hips. Slow, powerful, tender. My orgasm builds, the slownessof his movements have me teetering on the edge of bliss, just waiting to be pushed over the edge as soon as he allows it.
Holding his weight with one arm, Slate takes my breast in his hand, leaning in to suck my nipple, and I can’t hold back, I need to let it out.
“Slate.” He lifts his head and smiles, the loss of his touch unsettling me.
“Ready to let it out?” I nod.
His large hand moves to cover my mouth as his thrusts get faster, so that my muffled screams would only be heard by someone walking past, and at this moment, I don’t care.
I let it all out as waves of pleasure crash into me, like a rip-curl hitting the shore. Goosebumps cover my sweat slicked body. Slate’s release follows and his body collapses onto mine. I wrap my arms around his body, pulling him in tight.
Slate has always surprised me, and this was no exception. We move together as well as we sing and perform. It just feels right. We fit.
Exhausted, we fall asleep in each other’s arms. Perfect.
The next morning Monty and Laura seem happy to have everyone around the breakfast table, Monty pulling out all the stops with a feast for us all. Even Sawyer seems more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time. Since the night we met actually. He smiles and laughs easily as Kalen regails Laura and Monty with some of the tamer exploits of last night. Laura doesn’t know that I slept in Slate’s room last night. There’s no way she would be this calm if she did.
After breakfast we’re all packed off in the limo once again, told to enjoy our weekend, and reminding us all to come for family dinner tomorrow. Laura says they have a surprise planned. Her words instantly fill me with dread, washing away the joy of yesterday and last night. It’s a sharp wake up call as to why I’m really here and why I need to get out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amelie
I can’t get out of it anymore. Sunday family dinners have been reinstated for all of us and I’m dreading it. Twice over the weekend my mother stressed the importance of coming tonight, so I’m nervous as to why, dreading whatever her little ‘surprise’ is. I hope it isn’t anything to do with Christmas.
The incubator sends the limo to collect me, even though I have a car now. I get that it’s a power play, another way to control me. I sigh and climb into the back seat.
“Hey, Larry,” I call out to my regular driver. I may not have been over for a family dinner for a few weeks, but it’s always the same guy.
“Please take a seat, close the door and put on your seatbelt, Miss Knox,” comes the rough reply of a stranger. I ignore his instructions and bang on the glass privacy partition. It slides down and in the rear-view mirror I meet the cold eyes of a man who is most certainly not Larry.
“Who are you?”
“Your driver, Miss Knox.”
“Where’s Larry?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Please take your seat, Miss Knox, I do not wish to deliver you late.”
“Stop calling me that,” I growl.
“Just following orders, Miss Knox. The door and your seatbelt, please.”
With that, he replaces the screen and I’m left gaping furiously at my own mirrored reflection.
I do as the driver says, deciding to choose my battles carefully. It’s not his fault that my mother is a manipulative piece of shit. No. I’ll unleash my rage on her.
Because I’m angsty, the drive feels like it takes forever. As soon as we pull up, I let myself out of the car and storm towards the house. I throw open the door, not caring when it slams into the table behind, knocking off a plant pot which shatters into a thousand pieces.
“Laura!” I yell. “Laura!” Fuck that bitch. She doesn’t deserve any term of endearment. Even fucking incubator is too good a term for her. It implies heat and warmth; two things she’s never been capable off.
“What are you screaming your head off about, Amelie?” Laura appears at the dining room door looking mighty pissed, her perfect housewife mask slipping once again. “You’re late. Take your seat,” she demands.
“Fuck you!” I spit, storming into the dining room with my fists clenched.
“Ooooh, family drama! This should be good!” Kalen crows. I ignore him.
