9. Maddox

NINE

MADDOX

We trade off every few hours, stop for lunch, gas, and restroom breaks. Our conversations don't last long—if you can even call them conversations. Just a few sentences here and there where we aren't sniping at each other.

I didn't realize that it would be harder that way.

It's impossible not to remember what his lips and hands feel like on me when he's right next to me, radiating his dominating presence.

I shouldn't be this affected by him. I'm surrounded by dominant assholes in my day-to-day life. Cristiano, Kyran, even Evan can be that way at times. There's nothing special about Knives.

At around 8pm—after fourteen fucking hours of driving—Knives pulls into a motel that has a flashing vacancy sign. We both get out, and I follow him into the lobby just to stretch my legs a bit.

"Two rooms," Knives says to the receptionist.

She winces. "Sorry, boys. There's only one left."

I stare at her, then sigh, my shoulders slumping. "All right. I guess we'll take it." I'm too tired to keep driving, and we really need to get some rest before we get to New Valence. We're going to need to be at the top of our game when we get there, which means sleeping.

Knives hands her some cash, and she processes our order. She gives Knives his card and the key—an old school, physical key. No wonder this motel is so cheap.

"There's menus by the phone if you want to order food," the receptionist says as we leave. "The pizza's edible."

Knives lets out a small, amused sound. "How appetizing."

Our room is on the ground floor, close to where we parked, and I'm more than ready to collapse into my bed.

Knives stops short when he turns the lights on.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he mutters.

"What?" I ask, peering around him to see what has him so pissed off.

Well, the woman at the desk had neglected to mention that there was only one bed. Beyond that, she hadn't thought to tell us that it was a small bed.

"Fuck," I say, staring at it. "We're not both going to fit in that."

"I'd barely fit on it on my own," Knives complains. He goes over to the bed anyway and sits down on it. "Fuck. Is there a cot in the closet?"

I glance dubiously around the room. "Even if there were, where would we put it? There's no space."

The room is barely large enough for the bed, let alone an extra cot. Sleeping on the floor doesn't look appealing either, not with how dirty the carpet is and how easy it would be to get trampled on.

I step into the room now that there's space near the door and shake my head. "I need a shower." I peer dubiously into the bathroom. It's just as small as the rest of the place. I'll barely be able to fit into the shower, let alone Knives.

"Yeah. I'll order the questionable pizza." Knives reaches for the stack of delivery menus near the phone. "Bet you ten bucks she's got some deal with the pizza place to throw them some business."

"Probably," I agree. "I'll get my bag out of the car and… bathe." This is hardly going to be the most relaxing shower I've ever taken in my life, but my body is aching and I need to try to relax for just a few minutes.

Fuck.

I should just offer to sleep in the car, but I'm sick and tired of being in it after so many hours of driving.

Knives is on the phone when I get back, so I jump into the shower and and rinse myself off as fast as I can. The tiny bar of soap is barely enough for me to wash myself, and it's a good thing neither Knives nor I have long hair because the mini bottle of shampoo wouldn't last one good wash otherwise.

I discover another problem once I'm out of the shower though: the room has shit ventilation, and it's so small that drying off and getting dressed are near impossible.

The third time I bump my shin against the toilet, I decide: fuck this. I wrap the towel around myself, pick up my clothes, and go out into the room.

Knives is on the bed, watching TV. His large body takes up most of the bed, with his feet dangling over the side.

"You'd better not have used all the hot…" Knives trails off as he sees me. His eyes rake over my body, scrutinizing me.

My heart races.

I squirm beneath his gaze, and everything inside of me just urges me to go to him, to get on top of him and push him down and make him my bitch for the evening. It's all I can do to stay back and avoid it, and I focus on the disgusting carpet as a damn good reason not to cross over to him.

Because, of course, that's a better reason than him being completely and utterly off limits by my own declaration.

"Drop the towel," Knives orders as he sits up.

I do.

I don't realize what I've done, not really, until the cloth hits the floor and pools around my ankles. I swallow hard, ignoring the small drops of water still coming free from my hair, and I stare at him. Watching. Waiting.

Knives sits on the edge of the bed, facing me, and with how small the hotel room is, there are only a few feet of distance between us. I watch him lick his lips. His eyes are focused on my cock.

"Did you jerk off in there?" Knives asks.

I blink at him, the question catching me off guard. "What? No. I'm too tired for that."

Ugh. I should pick up the towel and put it back on, but that would involve touching something that had been on the floor I don't even really want to step on.

"Turn around," Knives says. "Bend over and show me your hole." His hand goes down to his crotch, which is already starting to tent.

I almost obey.

It's habit to listen to him, to do what he tells me to, but this time…

My jaw clenches, and I give a jerky shake of my head. "No. I told you, we aren't doing this anymore. Knives ."

Knives tenses, and for a fraction of a second I see something vulnerable in his expression. It's replaced by his usual disdain.

"Right. Never mind. I'll take the shower. Pay the guy in cash when he delivers the pizza." He gets up and elbows his way past me into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I flinch, sighing as I go to the bed and flop down. I should get dressed, but instead I find my hand going to my already half- hard dick. I stroke it for a moment, wondering if Knives is doing the same in the shower. Probably not.

I reluctantly pull my hand from my cock and grab my boxers and t-shirt, pulling them on.

The pizza arrives right as Knives—wearing only his boxer briefs—comes out of the bathroom. The pizza guy's eyes keep going to Knives behind me, even though I'm the one with the money.

"You want your tip or not?" I ask, irritated.

The guy startles and mumbles his apologies. I give him the cash and shut the door, although I'm more than aware of Knives sitting half naked on the bed behind me.

"My contact is going to meet us at a club in New Valence," Knives says. He's checking his phone now. "Somewhere nice and public so we can't pull any shit, but not so public that people are going to overhear us."

"Tell me more about your contact," I say, joining him on the bed and trying not to look at his chest. It's just the right level of hairy, not too much and not too little, which is a hard balance to find in partners. "I need to know these things," I add before he can try to dismiss me again.

"She's the girlfriend of one of the Demon Gator guys." Knives scowls at the phone. "Nice to know she's got loyalty to her man, I guess. But my friend Thunder vouched for her."

"Thunder," I repeat with a snort. He gives me a look, and I hold a hand up. "Sorry, sorry. Just ridiculous names in the biker scene sometimes. Same for ours, I guess, but bikers take the cake." I smirk at him. "Then again, I guess it's not any worse than Forks or Spoons or Knives."

"Funny," Knives says, deadpan. "Either way. Thunder's trustworthy. If he says this woman has information, she's got information."

"I know, I'm hysterical." Well, Lance is hysterical, but I'm not going to tattle on him to Knives. Knives would probably try to beat him up on principle. "But okay," I say. "Do we know anything else?"

"I got a picture of her." Knives shrugs. "Not much else. She didn't want to say anything over email or text."

I can't say I blame her for that, but I wish we were working with more information. "Has Lily said anything else to you?" I ask, trying again. I grab one of the pieces of pizza, realizing how hungry I am when I take the first bite.

"Just some info on the Demon Gators. They got new leadership recently, and this Boar guy doesn't mind stepping on a lot of toes. We aren't the only guys they've pissed off." Knives reaches for his own slice of pizza. "They probably think we won't do anything because we're so far away."

I chew and swallow, using that time to think. "Well, if they hadn't fucked with such an expensive shipment, we might not have," I admit. "But they were really fucking dumb if they thought we were going to let something like that slide."

"Biggest issue will be finding their hideout." Knives puts his phone down on the bedside table and eats with more gusto.

There isn't much more to talk about.

I nod, and we finish off both of the pizzas in silence.

I'm exhausted by the time I'm done eating. I toss the boxes onto the desk on the other side of the room before I lie down on the bed—facing away from Knives. I make sure to take up half. I'm not going to let myself be intimidated into sleeping on the very edge of the bed.

And fuck, it feels strange to have someone in the bed with me. I haven't stayed the night with anyone or had anyone stay the night with me in years .

The problem is that Knives is big. He fills his half of the bed easily, and I can feel his warmth radiating against me. Every time one of us moves, skin brushes against skin. His hairy arm drags against my back.

"Stop," I growl, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I'm not doing anything on purpose," Knives retorts.

"You're in my personal space," I snap back at him. "Move over. I get half the bed. I can't help it you're a fucking gorilla."

"There's nowhere for me to move!" Knives rolls onto his side. Even in that position he's too close, and now it's his feet that are brushing up against my ankles.

I make a frustrated sound. If it wasn't for the fact that the floor was absolutely gross, I'd lie down there. "You're just trying to get close to me."

"No, I was trying that earlier," Knives growls. "Now I'm trying to respect your fucking space, so just shut up and let me sleep."

Ugh.

It's too hot in here, but there's nothing I can do about that. His body is just there , and there's nothing I can do about that, either. I grumble to myself, and I must fall asleep, because when I wake up, I'm on my other side.

I'm facing Knives.

His eyelids are fluttering like his eyes are moving underneath there, and his mouth is slightly parted. I can smell the mint of his toothpaste.

And I can feel his erection rubbing against me—against my erection.

Fuck.

I try to stay still, but I can't. I find myself rubbing back against him—subtly, slowly, before I catch myself. I'm breathing heavily, but I try to control it, and myself, not wanting to wake him up and have him realize what I'm doing.

I take a breath and start to roll onto my back, but Knives's large hand suddenly grabs my shoulder.

"Keep going," he says roughly, his eyes intense. "Do it."

I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't. But his authoritative, dominant voice has always been my weakness. I settle reluctantly back onto my side, not meeting his eyes again as I slowly start to rub against him.

I'll regret this in the morning. This constant push and pull is driving me insane, but right now, in the middle of the night, I can't bring myself to care that it's a terrible idea.

We're both still wearing underwear. The soft cotton feels overly restrictive now, but I don't want to get my cock out. I roll my hips, pleasure building inside me even as my face heats with humiliation.

Knives doesn't move at all. He keeps watching me, holding me, but his hips are utterly still.

"Feels good." Knives's breath hitches when I press harder against him. "Good. Get yourself off, Mads."

Mads .

He hasn't called me that in years. Not since before our lives had been turned upside down. Hearing it makes me swallow hard, makes me hesitate instead of telling him to get the fuck away from me.

I bite my lip, then slowly, carefully, I start to frot against him. "Nayeem," I whisper, testing out the name, seeing if he'll snap at me and end all of this.

He moans and tightens his grip on my shoulder. The extra pressure—that slight hint of pain—does nothing to dampen my own desire.

I let out a slow, shaky breath, and I want more than anything to kiss him. That would ruin everything, though, wouldn't it?

I can't help it. I grip my cock through the cloth, squeezing it hard, still rubbing it against his. Then I lean in and kiss him because I can't imagine doing anything else right now.

He kisses back, pulling me closer, and now our cocks are trapped between us. Every tremble and quiver causes delicious friction that sends pleasure shooting through my body.

Knives grips my hair and tightens enough that my scalp aches, but that's good, too.

It's like we're teenagers again, making out in my bed and learning what we like.

My breaths are coming hot and heavy, panting gasps in between those desperate kisses. They're raw, needy, not like they had been the last time but somehow something more .

"Fuck," I whisper against his lips, and I do take my cock out from beneath my boxers now, fumbling to do the same with his so I can feel the friction of heated skin on heated skin.

Knives covers my hand with his and guides it to our cocks. "Go on," he whispers against my lips. "Do it. Make us come, Mads."

I make a needy little sound, nodding to him. If he hadn't called me Mads, if he wasn't being so fucking nice, I wouldn't be able to do this. But I can't help it. I can't stop this.

I stroke the both of us together, feeling the pleasure building from the base of my spine—building and building, until I'm on the edge. I don't think I can take any more, and I gasp out, "You?"

Knives kisses me in response, his beard scratching against my skin, all while he thrusts his hips against me.

I nod, stupid as it feels, and kiss him back so deeply, so desperately, and I groan when I spill all over my hands—my hands, and his cock, and soaking our underwear with it. He's not far behind me, making the mess even bigger as he comes too.

We lie there in silence, and I don't say anything, can't say anything.

I'm too afraid to break this spell.

Knives and I stare at each other, until he lets go of me and walks to the bathroom. The light goes on, then he shuts the door. A few seconds later, I hear the shower running.

I flop onto my back, looking down at my hand. It's going to be sticky and even messier in just a few minutes, but I don't dare follow him into the bathroom to clean up. Instead, I wait for him to finish, half-drowsing until he comes back to bed.

"Hey…" I try, softly.

"Sorry," Knives mutters. He keeps his back to me. "Won't happen again."

My heart feels like it's going to break, but I nod even though he can't see it. I should tell him he doesn't have to be sorry, that I enjoyed it, but I was the one who'd set these boundaries to begin with. I'd told him no, then I practically pounced on him in the middle of the night. This is my fault, and any fallout is on me.

I get up, feeling a little dizzy, and go into the bathroom to clean up.

When I get back to bed, I try again. "Nayeem?"

No response. He's either asleep or pretending to be.

My shoulders slump, but I don't try again.

This time, I do lie on the edge of the bed.

There's no sense in trying to get close to him. He's never going to let me anyway.