Knight and Day (The Knight Erotic Trilogy, book 3 of 3) (9 page)

He turned her and bent her over the bar. The tear of foil was music to her ears, and seconds later he was against her, rocking his cock along the length of her sex. The mirrored surface of the bar chilled her nipples, and Dylan was oh so hot between her thighs.

And then he was inside her, hard and thick, making her gasp his name and look for something to hold onto.

His hand lay splayed between her shoulder blades, pinning her down as he thrust into her. Hard. She wanted harder still.

“More,” she gasped. “More.”

He paused, then moved back a fraction and lowered them both down until her knees felt the cool, hard floor behind the bar.

“Like this?” he ground out, throwing his hips forward so his cock hit home again and again. He wound her hair around his hand when she dropped her head back. “Will you come if I touch your clit now, English?”

She was pretty sure she was going to come just at the sound of his rasped words. Her stomach muscles jumped when he slid his hand over them, gliding down between her spread legs.

Greedy for him, she spread her knees wider, and he responded with an intensely sexual, guttural moan. His steady, hard thrusts pounded faster, harder, and she met him slam for slam, taking him to the hilt, trembling as her orgasm happened beneath his fingers and around his cock.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his body juddering behind her once, twice, and then again before he finally slowed.

Dylan crouched over her, pulling her down with him when he collapsed sideways onto the bar floor. He surrounded her, his heart beating hard against her back, every bit as erratically as her own.

Bob Marley crooned in the background.
Is this love
, he asked? ‘No,’ Kara replied in her head, euphoric, dreamy. ‘It’s not love, but it sure as hell is the best sex ever.’

Dylan wrapped himself around the warmth and softness of Kara’s body, filling his hands and his mind with her to keep it from all of the bad stuff. Bob Marley suggested putting his cards on the table, as he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her.

No way. No fucking way. 

Blissful didn’t cover Sophie’s joy when Tilly and her nanny arrived in Ibiza the following weekend. The little girl shattered the peaceful vibe of the villa into a million pieces, much to the satisfaction of her daddy. Sophie watched them from the kitchen window, Lucien lifting a shrieking Tilly over his head in the swimming pool, that big baby laugh shaking her entire body when he splashed her down again into the water.

Of all of the changes she’d witnessed in him over the years, the way he’d embraced fatherhood had been the most profound. To the rest of the world he was still the charismatic, uber-glamorous poster boy of the adult entertainment industry; it was only within the confines of their home that he relaxed his guard. Sophie alone knew his intricacies, the fears that drove him and kept him strong.

He was a different man in many ways these days. He’d turned the hot glare of danger to a lower simmer; the heat was still there, but quietened by the safety of being loved. In other ways he’d become stronger still. He was a warrior for his family, their strength and their protector.

She watched him climb out of the water with Tilly on his shoulders, her sweet limbs wrapped around the lone wolf tattoo inked over his shoulders. Sophie knew it by heart. She’d traced her fingers over it countless times, reminded each time of his heritage, his dark days, and gladdened that Lucien was no longer lonely.

“I think I’ve tired her out.” Lucien walked inside a couple of minutes later, the sleepy child, wrapped in a towelling robe, resting on his shoulder. Tilly’s flopped arm and relaxed fingers told Sophie she was already snoozing, and a peep over Lucien’s shoulder confirmed it.

“I’ll put her down if you like,” Kara offered, walking in from poolside and pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head. She wasn’t a woman who went mushy at the sight of a baby, yet something about Tilly had got under her skin. They seemed to connect, probably because Tilly was showing signs of being every bit as precocious as her mother’s best friend.

Lucien dropped on the sofa as Kara left the room with Tilly in her arms, and Sophie flopped beside him. The sun had dried the pool water from his skin, leaving him warm to the touch and smelling of holidays and good times. She looped her arm over his bare midriff and snuggled into him, grabbing the moment to be alone.

“I’ve been thinking about the wedding…” she said, enjoying the weight of the arm Lucien slung across her shoulders.

“And?” he said, rubbing the top of her arm.

“I thought Norway?”

He turned his head and looked down at her, thoughtful. “I thought here.”

“Here? In Ibiza?” Sophie said, surprised.

He nodded. “At the end of the summer.”

“As in… the next couple of months?” she said, even more surprised. They hadn’t talked about timescales, she’d just assumed that it would be some time the following year.

“Just you, me, and Tilly.”

Sophie paused, struck by the romantic image of the three of them in the sunshine, daisies in Tilly’s hair.

“We’d need witnesses, at least,” she said, uncertain if she loved his idea or not.

“Kara and Dylan,” Lucien said, slotting the pieces into place. “I’d like to take you home to London as Mrs. Knight,” he smooched the sensitive skin below her ear. It was the first time he’d ever said the words ‘Mrs. Knight,’ and a slow zing of happiness spread a smile across her face.

The more she imagined it, the more she loved his plan.

“Okay,” she said, laughing, turning into his kiss. “Okay. Ibiza it is. And soon.”

The next couple of weeks slipped by with alarming speed, each day a day closer to launch night at the club. Kara’s heart flipped whenever she drove past one of the huge, sexy roadside hoardings for Gateway Ibiza. VIP guests were invited, a celebrity DJ had signed on for a residency, and the press would be out in force. Lucien’s PR machine had swung into full assault; there couldn’t be many people on the island who didn’t know they were there.

With twenty-four hours left to go, they were ready. Kara had spent her days over the last fortnight almost continually at the club, and her nights in bed with Dylan aboard the Love Tug. Her body ached pleasurably from being used in every way possible, and from using him right back. Had it really only been a few weeks since she’d first laid eyes on him? It felt much longer as the essence of him seeped under her skin, into her bones. He made her laugh, he made her moan, and he made her scream.

He made her happy.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Hey mom,

Thinking about you, be strong. Billy wouldn’t want you cry today, okay? It’s launch night here for the new club, I’ll raise a beer to him tonight.

M x

To: [email protected]

From:
[email protected]

I’m not sleeping son, I was just looking through some old photographs of you boys. I doubt your brother will even register the date. Three years without Billy already. It feels like so much longer.

Hope your day goes well. I rest easier knowing that you’re out of it.

Mom xx

Dylan pushed his mobile into the pocket of his jeans, hating the image of his mom sitting alone late at night going through photos of her children in happier times. Scabbed knees and awful haircuts aplenty, no doubt, Billy always the joker with the biggest smile in the room.

Familiar, unsettling pain jostled his heart at the thought of Billy, his older brother by two years and his best friend as they grew up. He scrubbed his hands over his face harshly, trying to erase his melancholy mood. He owed it to Lucien to give this day his all. He was more than aware that without this job he’d most likely have had to move on weeks ago to someplace else, with no clear plan in mind. Drifting didn’t suit him. He’d grown up in the heart of a big, bustling family; he wasn’t accustomed to being cut adrift. Somehow he’d fallen on his feet here, into a job that consumed him, with people who invited him to bask in the warmth of their family.

And then there was Kara. Everything about the girl was pure gold, and every day the seeds of fear embedded themselves deeper into his gut. He was letting her invest her feelings, and he was investing his own, but it was all built on a house of cards. One push, and it would all fall in. Bitter experience had taught him that he could live through pretty much anything, but now, when it came to Kara, he wasn’t so sure. If he was any kind of man he’d call a halt to it, but she had him enthralled. His brain said back off, but the rest of his body refused to listen. His cock stirred at the scent of her, and his mood lifted whenever she was near.

When it came to Kara Brookes, he feared he was a very selfish man.

The staff had all been on site since just after five, and Kara’s entire body vibrated with first night nerves. This was by no means her first opening night, but that knowledge did nothing to slow the flood of adrenalin through her veins. She lived for nights like this - the thrills, the anticipation, the risk.

Not that there was much risk, really. Lucien and Dylan had made sure of that where the club was concerned, and she and Sophie were one hundred percent ready for curtain up in the boutique.

She looked slowly around, a careful three hundred and sixty degree spin. Every shelf stocked, every cabinet artfully lit, every mannequin unsuitably dressed. It looked beautiful; an elegant boudoir, a sexy prelude to the main event.

Over the past few years she’d become accustomed to the adult club scene, grown to love it even. She’d never been inside one as a paying customer. She wasn’t sure she would have ever been brave enough, yet the idea of working here alongside Dylan over the summer made her body thrum with lust. Not that they could or would take part in the front of house action, but every time she looked at the bar she could only think of being bent over it by Dylan.

Launch night. The calm before the storm.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. This was no mean feat, given that Sophie had laced her aubergine velvet corset dress with some gusto an hour or so back. They both wore the same outfits, a suggestive uniform that set the tone perfectly, both sophisticated and sexy as sin. The three freshly trained boutique staff were similarly attired and almost as excited as she was. She glanced up as Lucien appeared in the doorway.

“Got five minutes?” he asked. Even Kara had to admit he looked lethal, dressed in black from head to toe, the perfect canvas to set off his bronzed Viking looks. “Looking good, Mr. K,” she grinned, following him towards the bar. And then she saw Dylan, and acknowledged that good as Lucien looked, he didn’t have the same flip-flop effect on her heart as the beautiful American currently popping the cork on a bottle of vintage champagne.

Sophie was perched on a high stool at the bar, laughing at something Dylan had said. Lucien crossed to stand behind her, his fingers idly toying with the laces down the back of her corset.

“If you keep that up, the boutique customers will get more than they bargained for,” she said dryly, wriggling her shoulders to stop him from inadvertently loosening her bodice.

“You can keep it on for now. But I get to take it off later,” he murmured, for Sophie’s ears only.

“Are we celebrating already?” Kara asked, accepting the glass that Dylan held out to her. His fingers brushed warm against hers. She noticed how his eyes were drawn to her mouth and lingered for a beat longer than could be considered polite, and knew that whatever was going on inside his head that very second would be deliciously filthy. A month spent in his bed had taught her that he was a man who loved sex voraciously, and when it came to him the feelings were mutual. She couldn’t get enough. They screwed, and she just wanted him all over again, only harder. Rinse and repeat. He had a way of making her feel alive and beautiful, as if her every curve was his idea of perfection. He went straight to her head, and she found that she just wanted more, more, more.

“Okay. Doors open in fifteen, and we all need to be outside to meet and greet. The press are out in force from what I can see out there, so be ready to turn on the charm and smile for the cameras,” Lucien said, his eyes on the screen of the outdoor surveillance monitor tucked away in the corner of the bar. No one noticed the frown that puckered Dylan’s brow as he followed Lucien’s gaze, sipping his champagne automatically.

“A toast,” Lucien said turning back to them once they all had a glass in their hand. “To Gateway Ibiza, and all who screw in her.”

Kara raised her glass to the others with a smile. She’d heard the toast several times, but it still amused her.

“To all who screw in her,” she murmured, her eyes touching Dylan’s again, knowing that he was thinking exactly the same as she was.
And to all those who’ve already screwed in her.

Or was he? He looked more unsettled than he had a few moments ago, less relaxed. His laid-back Californian feathers definitely seemed ruffled to her eye, practised as it was at looking at him good and hard.

“So what’s your plan tonight?” Kara asked him as Sophie and Lucien wandered away towards the office, his arm protectively around her waist. She leaned over the bar to afford Dylan a clear view down her Jessica Rabbit-style cleavage. “Because I can offer you a really special discount if you come by the boutique. What’s your poison, Sailor?” she murmured, touching the folded back sleeve of his slate grey shirt. “Cuffs?” She circled her fingers firmly around his wrist, feeling the beat of his pulse beneath her thumb pad when she pressed down. “Nipple clamps?” She shimmied her shoulders to jiggle her breasts, gratified by the way his expression softened from tense to turned on. Whatever was on his mind, it was a thrill to know that she could make him forget about it. “Or maybe you’d like something a little kinkier…” she murmured, fucking him with her eyes. “Maybe you’d like to bend me over your knee and spank me with one of our leather riding crops. Because Dylan…” she whispered, pausing to lick her lips. “When this place closes tonight, I plan on being a very,
very
bad girl.”

Outside ten minutes later, and the place was alive with queuing customers and the flash of cameras hungry for a shot of Lucien Knight, patron saint of the world of erotic clubs. They’d gone to great pains to create Hollywood red carpet-style glamour for the opening night, although the carpet was deep purple rather than scarlet. It was soon obscured by VIP guests milling around and posing for the cameras before entering the club, all keen to be portrayed as risque to enhance their images. Lucien and Sophie stood to the side giving interviews to the press, and he turned to beckon Dylan and Kara across for a photograph of the management team.

Kara nodded across the hordes in acknowledgement and placed her hand on Dylan’s arm. “We’re needed,” she murmured, leaning close so as not to interrupt the conversation he was holding with a group of excited first night attendees. The scent of him filled her head, making her want to lick his neck. He turned to her with a smile, which slid from his face as his gaze moved to Lucien and Sophie and the waiting press photographer.

He excused himself from the conversation, his mind racing. He badly didn’t want to let Lucien down tonight, this was the acid test. Equally, he didn’t want his image splashed across tomorrow morning’s local papers, or more worryingly, over the pages of entertainment industry magazines. The slim chance that someone back home would see the picture was enough to bathe his body in clammy foreboding. He followed Kara slowly because there was no other choice that he could see.

A few weeks here and already this place and these people felt dangerously like home. He didn’t want it entangling with his former life.
Fuck.

He met Lucien’s eyes as he drew close, and saw the question in them. Was it written all over his face how much he didn’t want to be photographed?

“So much charisma in one photograph,” Kara said, linking her arm through Sophie’s, her eyes on Dylan and Lucien. “Hope they don’t break the camera lens.”

Lucien reached into his pocket for his phone, flicked the screen on for a second and frowned.

“Sorry guys, minor emergency,” he murmured to the photographers. “Dylan, the DJ’s having some last minute hitches with the energy supply. Would you go and see what’s going on? We open in five.” Lucien moved between Sophie and Kara, an arm around each of their waists. “A thorn between two roses,” he smiled graciously for their benefit, jerking his head imperceptibly at Dylan to disappear.

Moving away into the safety of the crowd, Dylan was well aware that the DJ would not be waiting for his help. He let his breath out on a long, slow huff. That had been close. Too close, and he now owed Lucien his thanks and some kind of explanation. He’d already been more economical with the truth than sat easily with his conscience. He really didn’t want to lie to these people, but there was no way he was dragging them into his mess.