Knife's Property

N I N E

Knife is different the next morning, more back to his normal self than he was the day before.

I would never openly admit this to him, but sometimes when he came back from a run, he made me wary.

It took years before Knife told me what exactly our club did for money.

I assumed it was something illegal, like drugs or weaponry, but turns out it was something completely different. He was vague but the general gist of it was; they took out people. They didn't ask any questions, just if the person wanted it done a certain way and then they followed through. They were also tech geniuses which brought in a lot of business.

I didn't need to ask which area Knife's expertise was in. I may have been trying to view him as both a good person and someone who did horrible things but even, I knew when I was being stupid.

"Morning, baby." Knife's smooth voice spoke from across the roam.

I twisted in the bed to see him. He was leaning against the doorway, sipping at an espresso in his hand while his dark gaze swept over my body. He looked like he was ready for another round but the ache between my legs told me that would not be happening for at least the next few hours.

"Morning." I replied, my voice was husky from sleep, but his eyes darkened like he was thinking of something completely else. "I'm still sore so wipe that look  your face, mister. I would like to be able to sit down or walk, or both by the end of the day."

He chuckled and sauntered towards the bed; a devious smirk smeared across his lips like the devil he was. He placed the espresso cup onto the bedside table and moved so he was hovering over me with his arms planted either side of my head.

My heart stuttered in my chest at his closeness. I felt impossibly closer to him after last night, something I knew would happen and I was glad we had waited so long rather than diving right in in secondary school.

Even if it meant I had the freedom of location ripped away from me at seventeen years of age. If I was feeling this warm fuzzy feeling and wanting him even closer, I could only imagine how Knife's greedy self was feeling.

His lips were close to mine, if I even breathed too deeply, they would brush.

"You better get used to it, because I don't plan on spending too long outside of you for the rest of my life."

My face heated at his words, and I looped my arms around his neck. He turned his face to brush his nose along my arm, placing small butterfly kisses on his journey across my skin. I positively glowed in the aftermath of his attention, I had never felt more secure, treasured.

His mouth finally left my arm to trail across my chest and over my collarbone. He moved so he was now lying over me on the bed and moved his knee to be stationed between my thighs. My tummy bottomed out as he continued his assault.

I felt like I was on the verge of collapsing if he didn't kiss me right now. I arched my back and pressed my chest into his, not so subtly hinting I wanted more. Smiling against my skin, he shifted to kiss my chin, my right cheek, my left cheek, my nose...

My eyes drifted shut as his mouth paid them their due attention. He finally, finally, moved towards the mouth area. His lips brushed softly against the corner of my lips, so soft I wondered if I was so desperate for him to finally kiss me that I had imagined it.

I knew I wasn't imagining it when his mouth finally covered mine. I couldn't conjure that tingling, all-consuming feeling of our lips moving with another, the feel of his tongue entering my mouth and dominating it as well as my whole mind.

I was just being sucked down the black hole that was Knife's attention when a knock sounded at the door.

Groaning, I pulled my mouth from his and pushed at his chest for him to move. He budged slightly to pull the sheet that covered my body down to my waist so he could pay attention to my breasts.