Page 15 of Knife Volume 2

She stared at him, trying to figure out whether she wanted to keep arguing, and she figured she could either build the fire or watch him build it later.

So she built it and then banked it, so it was mostly glowing coals with small flickering flames, and she’d gathered everything needed for hot dogs first and s’mores later by the time he came outside, shirtless and in jeans, which did all kinds of things for her libido.

They built their hot dogs with cheese, relish, mayo, and ketchup — and Knife seemed to enjoy using ketchup in as many sentences as possible. Somehow, they went from roasting marshmallows to turning them into flaming torches for fun.

Eventually, they ended up with her curled in his lap in a large Adirondack chair while he talked about how things work when the club goes on a long bike ride. The rules for how to act in public, all the safety precautions to take.

Darkness fell slowly, then all at once. Their kissing grew deeper and hungrier, until it was about to be more, and he pulled back enough to look at her, eyes dark with intent. Without a word, he settled her in another chair, dumped water on the fire, spread the coals to make sure it was truly out, scooped her back into his arms, and carried her inside, straight to the huge chaise lounge in the living room.

He laid her down gently before stripping off her jeans and underwear all at once. Her shirt. Her bra. He only took an impatient second to drop his own jeans and underwear, and then he settled over her, his warm, solid weight settled over her, pressing her into the chaise cushions.

His mouth found hers again in a slow, deep kiss that melted her from the inside out. There was no rush, no demand — none of the fury of the night before. Just the quiet, devastating way his lips controlled hers while his tongue stroked tenderly, like he was savoring every second of having her back where she belonged. His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone with surprising gentleness, and then both hands roamed her body with reverence, tracing the welts and bruises he’d left earlier.

When he finally pressed inside her, it was slow and easy, filling her inch by inch until they were completely joined. His gaze never left hers, and she felt him everywhere — not just his cock stretching her, not just the friction, but more. Their auras danced together and tried to merge, like two flames coming together. The connection was electric and tender at the same time, wrapping around her heart and soul. For long, perfect minutes he moved inside her with deep, fluid strokes, every thrust a promise, every kiss a vow she felt in her soul. She clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers buried in his hair, lost in the slow-building pleasure and the overwhelming feeling of being completely, safely loved.

Pleasure built slowly, steadily, until it crested in a long, rolling orgasm that seemed to go on forever. She gasped his name as wave after wave washed through her, her body trembling, her heart wide open. He followed her over moments later with a low, guttural groan, pulsing deep inside her while he held her, and then stroked her.

They lay like that for a long time — joined, breathing together, hands gently stroking skin, neither wanting to move. She fell asleep wrapped in his arms, her legs wrapped around him with his cock still inside her, safe and loved and completely his.

When she woke the next morning, she was in his bed, tucked under the covers with his warm body curled around her from behind. Sunlight filtered softly through the windows. His hand rested possessively over her right breast, and his slow, even breathing told her he was still sound asleep.

She wanted to stay right there forever, but her bladder had other ideas. The second she tried to ease away from him, his arm clamped down around her waist, pulling her back against his chest with a low, sleepy growl.

“I need to pee,” she told him, and he pulled her closer a second before letting her go. He was sitting on the side of the bed when she came out of the bathroom, and he told her, “I’m hoping to get the walls built today, and a good bit of the sheetrock work complete.”

“I can help,” she told him, but he shook his head. “I work better alone for this kind of thing. Do you have some work you need to do? I can give you an account on my laptop if you need it.”

“I brought my laptop, just need access to your Wi-Fi. I’m close to doing another big filming day, so I can finalize the opening scripts and my grocery list.”

She noted he was putting pants on with lots of pockets, and a loop for maybe a hammer.

“I’ll get a quick shower,” she said, “and then I’ll run down and cook some steak and eggs. Maybe some biscuits. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

She heard him moving things around upstairs while she cooked, but he came right down when she called up that it was ready.

He moved to clean up after they ate, but she shooed him off to build her closet, and she put the kitchen to rights before she sat down at her laptop.

First things first, she needed to know how long she’d have her own kitchen to film in. She’d have it for this next session, but with seven months left on her lease, a lot depended on the complex’s management.

She pulled up the lease agreement and read the early termination clause, did the math twice, and decided it was worth a phone call to see if she could negotiate something better. She asked for the manager when the first person wasn’t interested in softening the penalties to break it early, but the woman’s boss gave the same answer, so she thanked him nicely and ended the call. She knew damned well they’d rent her apartment out within two months, so she was fine with paying an extra two months, maybe even three, but they wanted way more than that.

But she wasn’t desperate, and this just meant she could keep her channel consistent without having to tell her viewers she’d moved for that much longer.

She switched from coffee to lemon water and got down to business finalizing her opening scripts, the bullet points to hit during each video, and which of her other videos to point to at the end of each.

When she finished, she looked through Knife’s cabinets and freezer, found some mason jars marked ‘Tomatoes’, and they looked like a home canning job. She found ground beef in the fridge, along with mushrooms, and plenty of garlic and onions stored with his other root vegetables. She checked his spice cabinet and then headed upstairs. “You mind if I use two of your mason jars of tomatoes to make spaghetti? You have everything I need.”

Two-by-fours were up where the walls would be, and he was attaching sheet rock to them.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Use whatever you need, and if you can’t find something, ask.”

Her phone was in her pocket, and it rang. She pulled it out and saw her dad’s picture, and answered.

“Dad! Is everything okay? I figured you’d be at training camp?”

“You had to know we’d find out. What were you thinking? It isn’t safe out there for a lone wolf.”

“And finding out after the fact!” her mother said. “You should’ve at least talked to us about it before you just…” her voice broke on a sob. Her mother was crying, which was why her father had called.