chapter thirty-one
Knox
It’s fucking Friday.
I have dreaded this day since my dad told me about my required date. He must’ve given Charlotte my phone number because a text from her is sitting unanswered on my phone.
Unknown: Hi, Knox!! Your dad mentioned you’ll pick me up at six. I gave him my
address. Can’t wait to see you!!
Her overuse of exclamation points is nauseating, as is the fact that I have to hang out with her all fucking evening. I’ve tried to steer clear of my dad as much as possible since our altercation, but he stopped by the guest house about an hour ago to give me her address and drill into me how important it is that I’m on my best behavior.
Like I’m the one with a hothead.
My phone chimes again, and I roll my eyes as I grab it, assuming it’s Miss Exclamation, but I’m relieved to see it’s Aston.
JT: What’re you up to tonight?
Me: Not shit. Think I’m just going to stay home tonight. Headache.
It’s not that I want to lie to him. I just don’t want to have to explain why I’m taking a date to this event. I’m sure he’d be understanding, but I don’t want to have to explain my relationship with my dad to Aston.
The look of concern and pity on his face the other night when I showed up at his house was enough. I don’t need him feeling sorry for me.
JT: Damn, sorry, bro. Hope you feel better.
Me: Thanks. What about you?
JT: Was going to see if you wanted to kick it, but since you can’t, I’m going to chill with my parents.
Me: Have fun. If I feel better later, I’ll hit you up.
I’ve put off getting ready for as long as I can. It’s a quarter to five and I need to hop in the shower now if I plan to get this bitch on time.
Wouldn’t want to disappoint Daddy Dearest.
Starting the shower, I undress and turn on some music before stepping under the stream. The hot water feels fucking amazing. My ribs are black and blue, and sore as fuck. Somehow my lip managed to not bruise or swell too badly, so the evidence will easily remain hidden under clothes.
Letting my mind think back to that night, it wanders to my time at Aston’s. Things between us changed that night and somehow, I’m okay with that. Giving in to what I want with him feels right, no matter how wrong I was raised to believe it was. Being around him brings me a level of calm I hardly ever experience anymore. My mind silences and my body relaxes, and I trust him… which, if I’m being honest, scares me. Being vulnerable with people has never been something I’ve done well.
Growing up the way I did, I learned to keep everyone at an arm’s length. When I was in middle and high school, I never wanted anyone to get too close, see the bruises or the burns, or learn about any of my dirty secrets. As I got older, it remained the same. Even with the guys; they’re my best friends, but they still don’t know me a whole lot deeper than surface level.
Katie is the only one who has successfully chipped away at the wall I surround myself with, and I’m still shocked she even managed to do that.
Bringing my mind back to the shower, I rinse the shampoo out of my hair and grab the body wash. Pouring a decent amount in my hand, I start lathering my body when an idea comes into my mind. Reaching outside the curtain, I grab my phone—thankful for water resistant phones—and open my camera app.
My cock is already half-hard just from the idea, so a couple of strokes is all it takes for me to stand proud. Switching the camera over to record, I hold the phone up by my head with the camera pointing down toward my cock. Pressing record, I watch as my soapy hand works my length in long, languid strokes. The slick, sudsy feeling is amazing, and pair that with the knowledge that Aston is going to watch it soon, makes the sensation immaculate.
Picking up the pace, I fuck my hand at a faster rate, reaching down and toy with my balls from time to time. It’s work to keep the camera pointed directly at my cock and not drop it. Before I know it, the tingly feeling of an orgasm is creeping up my spin, into my nuts, until hot, thick cum is shooting out of my cock. “Oh, fuck, Aston,” I moan while the phone is still recording, not at all surprised that it’s his name falling from my lips as I reach ecstasy.
I hit send before I can overthink it, then set the phone outside the shower and finish rinsing myself off. Getting out, I wrap a towel around my waist and examine the bruises in the mirror. It makes me cringe to know that Aston knows something happened, even if he doesn’t know specifics.
Grabbing my phone, I make my way back to my room to get dressed for this dumb ass event. I’d skip the damn thing all together if I didn’t fully know I’d have to face off with my dad again. I honestly can’t wait to get back to campus, so I can be as far away from him as possible.
As I’m buttoning my slacks, my phone dings with a text. A smirk pulls at my lips, knowing exactly who it is.
JT: GODDAMN, Knox.
JT: That was fucking HOTTT. Look how hard you made me…
JT: *one new picture*
Fucking hell. I never thought I’d ever stare at a cock and salivate, but I am. His dick is impressive and hot as hell. It’s long—at least nine inches—and thick. It’s veiny, and the tip is a shade between red and pink, and fuck, the silky feel of it sliding between my lips and across my tongue.
Who knew sucking cock would be so fucking hot?
Staring at this picture makes me want to fuck my fist again, like I didn’t just come, not even ten minutes ago.
Me: Fuck, that’s sexy af.
JT: ;)
JT: Also, your ribs look terrible. I wish you’d tell me what the fuck happened.
It makes me feel like shit to lie to him, but he can’t know. Begrudgingly, I finish getting ready and head out to get what’s-her-fucking-name. This is going to be a long fucking night. Maybe afterwards, I can go see Aston.
******
We’ve been at this stupid party for about thirty minutes now, and I’m already bored out of my fucking mind. Charlotte, who I definitely called Caitlyn when I first picked her up, is under some false belief that this date is much more than it is. She clearly pre-gamed because she’s been trashed since the moment I picked her up and has been hanging all over me ever since.
I’ve seen my parents for all of five minutes and have had to make small talk with a bunch of rich old people since.
“I’m having so much fun, aren’t you, Knoxy?” Her words are slurred; she’s a fucking mess.
“Don’t fucking call me that.”
“Aww, cheer up. Let’s go get some drinks.”
“Don’t think you need anymore,” I mumble under my breath as she takes my hand and drags me toward the bar. Tipsy Tara doesn’t even hear me. Her eye’s on the prize, the prize being vodka sodas.
I suppose the one good thing about these wretched events is there is always an open bar, and they don’t check IDs, especially not with who my father is. Walking up to the counter, the bartender looks at us and smiles, waiting for our order.
“What do you want?” I ask her, even though I should order her ass a tall glass of water.
“Vodka cran, please.”
“Can I get a whiskey on the rocks, top shelf, and she’ll have a vodka cran, please.”
“Sure thing, man.”
He makes our drinks in record time, and after giving Charlotte her drink, we make our way over to the corner wall. It hasn’t even been an hour yet, and I probably can’t even sneak out until it’s at least nine, which isn’t for another two hours.
Kill me now.
“So, you’re visiting from school, right?” She looks up at me through her lashes, and I know she’s trying to be cute, but it’s not doing it for me. She’s about six inches too short.
“WSU.”
“Oh my gosh, really!” Fuck, her voice is like nails on a chalkboard.
“Yes, really. Why? Where do you go?”
“University of Washington! We’re rivals,” she says with a giggle.
“How fascinating,” I deadpan, downing the rest of my whiskey. Fuck, I’ll need about half a dozen more of these if I plan to make it through this night with her.
Finishing her own drink, she sets it down and wraps her arms around my neck.
What the fuck is happening.
“You look so cute in that tux, you know.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Want to go find an empty room or a bathroom or something?”
“Not really, but I would like you to take your hands off me.”
Someone walks up behind me and speaks. The voice turning my blood to ice. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
Aston.
Finally getting her grabby paws off me, I turn around and come face to face with the man I’ve been thinking about all night, the man I also lied to earlier.
Shit.
“What are you doing here?” is all I can manage.
“Could ask you the same thing. You said you had a headache and were going to stay home.”
“Oh my gosh,” Charlotte pipes in. “Do you guys know each other?”
Completely over her shit, I turn to her and say, “Obviously. Now, goodbye.”
Turning back to Aston, I notice how his annoyance seems to be simmering very close to the surface, but he’s trying to rein it in. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Laughing in a way that says he doesn’t at all find this funny, he says, “That’s rich, Knox. Really fucking rich.”
At that, he turns on his heel and walks away.
Fuck, fuck. I have to stop him. He can’t walk out of here thinking that this is more than what it is. Following him, I try to catch up, but his long legs are eating up a lot of ground, and really quickly. “Aston! Will you wait up! Fuck.”
“Fuck off, Knox.”
Alrighty, so he’s really mad.
He blows through the side door, not stopping at all to wait for me. Once I’m outside too and the cool night air hits my face, I pick up my pace. “Aston, fucking hell! Wait up and let me explain.”
He stops and turns so fast, I’m surprised I don’t run right into him. The look on his face is somewhere between hurt and furious. I don’t quite know which emotion guts me more.