Chapter 59 CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 59
YAEL
Rumors had been flying all day about some underground race out past the old maintenance roads—illegal, dangerous, the kind of thing people whispered about but never admitted to attending. And Knox was racing.
I knew I shouldn’t go. After everything—the hospital, the blackout rage, the bruises still fading on my face—my better judgment screamed at me to stay in my dorm, study, or sleep. But the second Mia texted the location with a string of fire emojis, I was pulling on my darkest hoodie and sneaking out.
I told myself I just wanted to make sure he was safe. Lie. I wanted to see him like that—reckless, untamed, the version of Knox the rest of the world feared.
The site was a deserted stretch of cracked asphalt surrounded by woods, lit by headlights and bonfires. Cars lined up, engines revving like angry animals. Hundreds of people crowded the edges, bets flying, music thumping. I pulled my hood low and pushed through the bodies until I could see the starting line.
There he was.
Knox leaned against his matte-black Supra, arms crossed, face unreadable. No smile. No nerves. Just pure, brutal focus. He looked lethal in a black leather jacket, jaw sharp under the floodlights. People gave him space, like they instinctively knew not to get too close.
My heart pounded as the flag girl stepped up. Four cars. Knox in the middle.
Engines roared.
They launched.
Dust and burnout smoke choked the air. I lost sight of him for seconds at a time, only catching glimpses as they screamed around bends—tires screeching, metal flashing. Knox drove like he didn’t care if he lived or died. Cutting corners too close, drifting inches from barriers, accelerating when everyone else braked.
Reckless. Beautiful. Terrifying.
Lap after lap, he pulled ahead. One car spun out. Another couldn’t keep up. By the final stretch, it was just him and some guy in a red Evo.
Knox won by a nose, sliding sideways across the finish in a controlled drift that had the crowd exploding. People screamed, rushed the car, threw cash in the air. He climbed out slow, hood up, not smiling, just scanning the chaos until his eyes found me.
Even across the distance, the look he gave me burned.
My phone buzzed.
Knox: treehouse. now.
I was already moving.
The secret garden was quiet, snow starting to fall in soft flakes as I climbed the ladder. Knox was waiting inside, jacket off, shirt clinging to him from sweat. The fairy lights glowed against his skin, making him look almost unreal.
The second I stepped in, he grabbed me.
His mouth crashed into mine, hungry and relieved, hands framing my face like he needed to prove I was real.
“You came,” he murmured against my lips, voice rough from exhaust and adrenaline.
“I couldn’t stay away,” I admitted, kissing him back. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Good.” He smiled for the first time tonight, dark and dangerous. “Means you care.”
He kissed me slower then, taking his time. Backing me toward the pile of blankets until I sank down. His hands slid under my hoodie, peeling it off, then my shirt, my bra. Cool air hit my skin, but his mouth was hot—trailing down my neck, sucking new marks over the fading ones.
“Been thinking about this all day,” he said between kisses to my breasts. “You watching me. Knowing you were there.”
I arched as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking slow and deep. “Knox...”
He moved lower, kissing down my stomach, tugging my leggings off. Then his mouth was on me—tongue flat and perfect, licking slow circles around my clit.
“Oh God,” I gasped, fingers in his hair. “Yes—just like that—”
He groaned against me, the vibration making me shake. One finger slid inside, then two, curling just right as he sucked harder.
“Come for me, baby,” he murmured. “Want to taste it.”
I did. Hard. Thighs clamping around his head as I cried out.
He didn’t stop. Kept licking softly through the aftershocks until I was begging again.
“Again,” he said, voice commanding. “Give me another.”
His fingers pumped faster, tongue relentless, and I shattered a second time, back bowing off the blankets.
Then he pulled me up, lying back himself. “Sit on my face.”
I straddled him without hesitation, lowering slowly. He gripped my hips and pulled me down fully, tongue plunging inside me.
“Fuck—Knox—”
He ate me like he was starving, nose brushing my clit, hands kneading my ass. I rocked against him, chasing the high until I came again, trembling.
He flipped us, spreading whipped cream from a can he’d stashed earlier across my breasts, my stomach, licking it off slow and filthy.
“Taste so good,” he growled. “My favorite dessert.”
Then he was inside me—deep, bare, perfect.
We both groaned.
He took me from behind, slow at first, then harder, hands gripping my hips as he pounded into me.
“Yes—harder—” I begged.
He gave it to me, one hand sliding up to wrap around my throat gently.
“Come with me,” he rasped.
I reached back, fingers around his neck instead, squeezing just enough.
He whimpered—actual whimper—and I smirked.
“Like that?” I teased, marking his neck with hickeys.
“Fuck—yes—”
He got hard again impossibly fast. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sinking down slow.
“Gonna ride you till you beg,” I whispered.
I did—slow rolls of my hips, hand around his throat, edging him mercilessly. He bit his lip, eyes glassy, whimpering my name.
“Please—baby—let me—”
“You look so beautiful like this,” I said, awed. “Like a god.”
He groaned, hands tight on my waist.
“Cum for me,” I commanded.
He pulled out at the last second, and I dropped down, taking him in my mouth as he came hard—ropes hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed, still holding his neck lightly as he shook and moaned my name like a prayer.
When it was over, he pulled me
up, holding me so tight I could feel his heart racing.
“Mine,” he whispered against my hair.
“Yours,” I answered.