21. Elton

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Elton

I wrinkle my nose, balling up the piece of paper I was scribbling on and tossing it behind me.

Ugh , why is this so difficult?

“Still having trouble?”

I barely glance up at Knox as he calls to me from his bed, flipping through his streaming service to find a horror movie he’s never watched before. At his desk, I’m trying my hardest to come up with a fantastic, jaw-dropping marketing idea that’ll knock Davis on his ass, with absolutely no luck.

“What do you think?” I snap. When he raises his pierced eyebrow, an almost amused glint in his gray eyes, I sigh. “Sorry, I don’t mean to take it out on you. I’m just coming up with nothing.”

“Come here,” he says as he pats the spot next to him. “Take a break for a second and help me pick a movie.”

I grumble, not wanting to leave my work, but I know I need to chill. Getting up, I crawl into bed beside him, automatically wrapping myself around his body as I stick my nose in his armpit. “Why do you always smell so damn good?”

“Because I shower?” He snorts, flicking the top of my head. “You should try it sometime.”

I pout. “What is that supposed to mean? I fucking shower.”

“Oh, don’t be sensitive. I was just kidding,” he says with a roll of his eyes, moving so that he’s lying down and facing me. “Okay, I see you’re in a mood tonight. Want to…talk about it?”

I have to chuckle at that. In the last few weeks, Knox has been better about trying to make friendly conversation when we hang out, which seems to be all the time now. He still has his moments—like now—when he appears entirely uncomfortable, but at least he’s trying.

“I just can’t think of anything that could bring in more people to the club,” I explain, shrugging in defeat. “I have no creativity. I’m a dry shell of mediocrity.”

He scoffs. “That’s being a bit dramatic, isn’t it? You’re just thinking about this too hard.” Walking his fingers down my chest, he stops right at the band of my sweats. “Maybe what you need is to get rid of some tension?”

I wet my lips, my dick growing more and more interested as he drags my sweats down my thighs. “Oh, yeah, totally. Maybe you could finger-fuck some inspiration into me?”

Pausing for a beat, his lips twitch like he’s trying to fight it, but he ends up throwing his head back with a laugh. “The things you say sometimes…”

“You like it,” I tease playfully, lifting my hips so he can get my sweats all the way off. I point at my dick and wink at him. “Well, now you got him all excited. He needs some attention.”

“My pretty little slut wants some attention, huh?” he taunts, almost mockingly so, and it only makes me harder. “Why didn’t you just say so, sweetheart? I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

Wiggling impatiently, I reach for the lube he keeps on the nightstand, and accidentally smack him in the face with it. “Oops, sorry.”

“Greedy and impatient.” He clicks his tongue at me. “I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

Without any shame or embarrassment—because we’re friends now and I’m past that—I bring my legs up to my chest, holding the backs of my thighs so I’m exposed to him. “Fingers, please.”

Startled for a second, he only blinks at me, before once again chuckling. It’s a nice sound that he’s letting out more and more, those free little laughs, and I’d like to think my friendship has one hundred percent to do with it.

He lubes up his finger, and I swear the bastard is going purposefully slow just to rile me up. I whine and squirm on the bed in anticipation, until he finally takes mercy on me and runs his wet finger down my crease with a filthy smirk on his face.

We’ve been doing this often too—letting him get me used to his fingers—and I like it more every time we do it. And every time, I think about begging for something more, craving the feeling of being fuller, and being stretched farther than I thought I could be, but I hold back.

It might sound ridiculous, but I want my first time to be at least a little bit meaningful. I want it to matter, you know? That’s why I’ve been so hesitant about letting Knox fuck me. Even though he’s made some changes, there’s still a part of me that feels like he’s holding back. If I’m going to do this, it doesn’t have to involve romantic feelings, but I do want it to be somewhat intimate—special—and I don’t think we’re there yet.

My thoughts are cut off when he slips a finger in, quirking it just the way he’s come to learn I like. “Oh, fuck, yes.”

“My dirty slut likes that?”

I nod, biting down on my lips to hold back the biggest moan, when a second finger joins in. I yelp when a sharp sting echoes against my hip, looking down at him with wide eyes. That fucker just slapped me. I go to open my mouth, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t pull any of that with me. All those pretty moans are for my ears alone. I need you to tell me who’s making you feel so good.”

When he hooks his finger, rubbing against the tender spot inside me, my toes curl, and I can’t help but cry out his name. “ Knox !”

“There you go. So pretty. So good for me,” he praises, each sweet word electrifying my nerves. “Now, what about BOGO drinks?”

I freeze, parting my legs so I can look down at him once again. “Excuse me?”

“It would draw in a bigger crowd, but we might lose some money, which I’m guessing is the opposite of what you want,” he says so casually, brow furrowed in concentration as he literally moves inside me. “It has to be something that gets people through the door and that would also let us jack up cocktail prices.”

“You really want to do this now?” I gasp and curse when he nails my prostate. “I–I can’t focus.”

“Yes, you can, sweetheart,” he coos. Rubbing my hip gently, he sneaks another finger in, scissoring me open until I’m sure I’m practically gaping. “Be my smart little slut and come up with an idea for me.”

Clenching my jaw, I try to focus as he twirls his fingers, gasping when his other hand joins to massage my heavy balls. “Oh fuck. Um…salsa night?”

“The food or the dance?”

“Both?”

He clicks his tongue at me, then flicks that same tongue against the base of my cock, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. “Not good enough. Stop thinking so much. Just say the first thing that comes into your head.”

Well, the first thought in my head is that I really need to fucking come.

I blank out, letting the euphoria wash over me. The molten sensation of ecstasy rushing across my body in waves and waves of sinful?—

“Angels and Sinners!” I blurt out, cutting myself off with a scream when his hot mouth dives onto my cock. “Fuck, yes, Knox. Just like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck… A theme night! I’ll do a theme night!”

I come down his throat with the idea on the tip of my tongue. He swallows my release greedily, pulling off only to kiss my fluttering hole when he slips his fingers out. “Good. That sounds like an excellent idea.”

“Where were you all throughout college when I needed to study,” I joke, out of breath as he crawls on top of me to press a chaste kiss to my forehead. “Damn, grumpy bear. You really did fuck some inspiration into me.”

He just shrugs as if he didn’t help me solve the problem I’ve been having for days. “It was easy enough once you just fucking chilled. Now, pick out a movie and order some takeout. Your cum is not enough to sustain me— Ah!”

He shouts as I tackle him off me and flip him around, hiking his ass up in the air so I can shove his pants over his thighs. “How about I work up your appetite first?”

Looking over his shoulder at me, he grins, completely wicked and filthy. “Do your worst, sweetheart.”

And I do, over and over and over again until my name is the one being screamed, all night long.