Page 35 of Knife Volume 2

He brought loads upstairs while she figured out where in her closet everything should go. Between the two of them, she’d officially moved in two hours later, and thirty minutes after that, she was hanging in his ropes, still without an orgasm.

But five hours later, he gave her so many orgasms she’d have begged for mercy if she’d been allowed to speak.

Best. Housewarming. Ever.

- - - ❖ - - -

A month later, ninety percent of Tuesday’s kitchen was in her new place, her reading chair sat in the corner of his living room where the light was good in the afternoons, and her office was completely finished and usable.

Not only that, he’d put fixtures for permanent professional lighting into his kitchen, so she only had to pull the arms out of the wall to the exact angle, and then adjust the lights with her phone. A super-cool hanging rack was installed over the island, since he’d seen that she prefers to hang her pots and pans for storage.

He’d also installed lighting on movable arms in her office, so she could easily handle the seated parts of her videos without much setup. In her apartment, she’d dragged lights back and forth from the kitchen to the office.

She’d kissed him until he’d leaned her over the kitchen table and fucked her to orgasm — and then popped her on the ass and told her to do a quick test video, so he’d know if he needed to make any changes.

One Sunday after breakfast at the club, the men went downstairs for their big church meeting, and the ol’ladies were planning for a big travelling party they called Girls’ Night Out. When the men came upstairs, Brain and Knife came to get her, took her to an office, where Brain scanned in her fingerprint and palmprint, and gave her access codes for the back of the clubhouse. “You can come and go into the hallway with Knife’s room. If we go into lockdown, you’ll have access to the lower levels. You’ll also be able to get in and out of the garage, and I’ve assigned you spot seventy-two.”

Brain told her to open her contacts and gave her a number. “That’s the control room. If you ever need to reach Knife and he’s away from the clubhouse without his phone, call that, and whoever’s on duty will get word to him.”

Heat moved through her chest and threatened to push tears into her eyes while she punched the number’s description into her phone. Control Room. Once upon a time, she’d been a secret, one who could only know the number to his burner phone. She remembered how big of a deal it’d been when he’d given her his actual phone number. It’d felt like being handed a key to something she hadn’t known she was locked out of. And now she had the super-secret clubhouse number, to reach him even when he was off grid.

She stared at Knife, and he smiled and told her, “I’ll walk you through how each door works. Part of the security here means every door works a little different. If you screw up, an alarm will blare, so try not to do that.”

“Most everyone does at least once,” Brain said. “Not the end of the world, but you’ll be ribbed for it, so be prepared.”

They were talking about the locks on the doors, and she was stuck on a phone number. Fitting, that neither man had any idea how the phone number affected her.

So many changes, but she was embracing every one. The week before, her old apartment complex had called with a reasonable offer to break her lease, and she’d gotten it in writing, then transferred the funds to them.

She was now officially stuck with Knife, and she couldn’t be happier.

Chapter 15

Knife was working in the back when he heard Shaggy on the loudspeaker. “Knife, you’re needed up front, please.”

He hung his apron, washed his hands, and made his way up front, wondering what the problem might be. Shaggy was damned good at handling the front and rarely needed help.

He saw her through the swinging doors and came through them with a smile.

“Miss June, what can I help you with?”

She was wearing slacks and a blouse, and a fancy springtime hat that somehow worked without looking ridiculous.

“I want to see where my granddaughter is living, and I figure you probably go home for lunch, since she says she lives close to the butcher shop. I’ll just wait around so I can go with you.”

He didn’t actually go home for lunch. They usually threw handfuls of small pieces of meat on the grill when they got hungry. Scraps too small to sell as steaks that they’d have ordinarily thrown into the grinder for ground beef. Damned good meat that was a shame to grind. It let them eat and get back to work quickly. Also, he got to teach his helpers how to cook meat properly, so they could better talk customers through it.

“Give me five minutes to finish what I’m working on, and we can head that way.”

He called Tuesday on his way back to finish the last couple of cuts on the piece he’d been breaking down.

“Your grandmother is here, demanding I take her to see where her granddaughter is living.”

A pause. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “Not a problem. We’ll be out of here in maybe five minutes.”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound panicked. She sounded like she was already moving. “I’ll throw something on to cook. Do you have time to eat while you’re here?”