Knight by Kristen Ashley
“I know,” I somewhat yelled over the music.
“And you got nothin’ for me?”
“Um…” I began, stopped then bit my lip.
His twitched, he dipped his face close and ordered, “Baby, fuckin’ kiss me.”
Oh.
God.
Oh God!
I’d never kissed him and he’d only kissed me once. And when he did, I didn’t really kiss him back I just went along for the ride.
Oh God.
God!
Well, fuck it. If I sucked it would only mean my world coming to an end.
No pressure.
Damn.
I lifted a hand to his neck, tipped my face back, held his eyes and pressed my lips to his.
Then I closed my eyes as I smelled his cologne.
God. Amazing.
I ran my tongue along the crease of his lips.
Then suddenly his arm was locked around me, my torso was tight to his, my body twisted so I was angled across his and partially in his lap and his other hand drove into my hair as his tongue thrust into my mouth and he kissed me.
Plunder.
I had it once.
I missed it desperately.
My arms circled his shoulders, one hand in his hair. I held on and enjoyed the heck out of the ride.
He broke the kiss but pressed my head in, his shifting so my lips were at his ear and his were at mine.
“You see me, four days, fourteen, four hours, Anya, you kiss me,” he growled in my ear.
“Okay,” I whispered in his.
His hand at my waist slid up my side then down as he murmured in my ear, “My baby and lemon drops.”
I shivered.
“When I fuck you drunk, you drink lemon drops.”
I shivered again and whispered, “Okay.”
“Okay,” he whispered back then, “Fuck. So fuckin’ sweet.”
I turned my head slightly so I could smell his neck.
I didn’t know what that was but whoever created his cologne should be given a medal, an island or their very own small country.
Knight, who didn’t miss much, didn’t miss me taking him in.
“You like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good,” he whispered back on an arm squeeze then I got another one that didn’t relax in a way that felt different and I pulled my head back to look at his profile.
He was focused on something that was not me and I twisted my head to see Hulk gesturing to him.
I felt Knight move and saw the end of a chin jerk then his eyes came to me.
“You gotta go,” I said softly.
His eyes moved over my face then back to mine.
“Yeah,” he replied softly.
I tipped my head to the side. “See you later?”
“Definitely.”
I smiled.
His eyes moved to my mouth, he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine.
Then he pulled back and locked our eyes.
“Did you wear the red for me?”
For some reason I felt timid suddenly but still I answered, “It’s your favorite color.”
I was rewarded immediately. His face got soft, his eyes got dark and his beautiful lips whispered, “Baby.”
And I instantly decided I was adding a lot more red to my wardrobe.
Then before I knew it, I was on my feet, my hand in his and he led me to Vivica.
“You’re on duty,” he informed her.
She smiled huge and he trailed his fingertips across my hip as his eyes held mine a second.
Then he was gone.
“I… fucking… love him,” Viv announced and my eyes went from where I last saw Knight to her.
Quick judgment.
Shocker.
“All the intel isn’t in yet,” I reminded her. “And you’ve been in his presence, like, a second.”
“Girl, this is what I know, that guy would have to be a freakin’ terrorist for me not to… love him.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Uh… that dress?” she answered.
Point well made.
“The look on your face right now,” she went on.
Another good point.
“The fact that he walked through a club that’s filled with beautiful people, most of them women, and from the instant I spotted him to the instant he left he only had eyes for you.”
My stomach melted.
“Really?” I whispered, my word swept away by the music but she watched my mouth move and nodded.
Game, set, match to Knight.
My eyes shifted to the floor and I grinned a secret grin that wasn’t really secret but it felt that way.
Vivica kept going.
“Nick, one look, douchebag motherfucker. Knight, one look, yeah, the guy is a guy you do not fuck with but other than that, class, command, confidence and cash. And that last in a way that he just has it because he earns it and he’s not in your face about it because he’s got so much of the other three he doesn’t need to be.”
“I already decided I’m going to explore this, Viv,” I shared something she knew loud enough for her to hear but hopefully not loud enough for the others around us. They were my friends but this kind of stuff was only for the close posse.
“Yeah, and what I’m saying is, as you do, that man, you’ll find out shit that will freak your shit right out. You power through, girl, and get to the other side. Because if he stays the way he is with you right now, and I am not talking about dresses and space age phones, I’m talking about him making the world melt away while he sits with you on a booth seat in the busiest club in Denver, it will be worth it.”
“What do you mean I’ll find out shit that will freak me out?”
She glanced around then pulled me to the side away from some friends.
Then she started talking.
“He went from a drag racer to a club owner in a hop, skip and a jump. Club success at age twenty-six. He’s the master of all you survey and as far as I know, answers to nobody. So that means no investors so that means he dumped his own money into this place. I have no clue but just the glasses cost a whack so the rest of this place, my guess, millions. I also have no clue about drag racing but, my guess, that doesn’t make a millionaire. He drives an Aston Martin. He owns seriously exclusive real estate and sends a driver to pick up his woman and her friends. He keeps his shit so tight nobody knows a thing about him and, trust me, I’ve been asking around. He owns Slade. He’s got a motherfucker for a brother. He drives a sweet ride. He does not date but he gets wild amounts of pussy by picking and choosing from his dance floor and none of those bitches talk but if you bring him up, they sure do smile. No one but no one who has all that, does all that and no one knows fuck all about all that doesn’t have secrets. Big ones. So he freaks your shit out, Anya, his secrets come out, you hold on and roll with it. Are you getting me?”
I stared at her.
Then I asked, “Wild amounts of pussy?”
She stared at me and stated emphatically, “Wild.”
Oh my God.
“Babe, girl, babe, listen to me,” she said quickly, her hand grabbing mine and I knew I must have been freaking out visibly as well as internally. I focused on her and she continued, “You know me. I do my homework. And that shit dried up two weeks ago.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“No. I’m no PI and I don’t follow him home. But I know folks who practically live here. They see him, know who he is and know he gets himself some and he hasn’t been checking out his regular smorgasbord in a while.”
My head tipped to the side. “He doesn’t date?”
“That’s the word.”
“What does that mean?”
“He likes you, he’ll cook for you at his house. He wants to get off, he does and you go home.”
Cooks for you at his house?
Oh God.
Vivica’s hand gave mine a squeeze. “Babe, he took y
“Oh God.”
Her hand now gave mine a shake. “Babe, listen to me, the dresses, the phone, the car, the VIP section, not his MO. Wynkoop’s, definitely not. Intel is still comin’ in but it’s slow and there’s not much to be had. But if he was a man on the town, it wouldn’t be. People would see him and report back. They haven’t. His life is this club and his condo. The girls go there then the girls leave there and, more often than not, don’t come back. And they don’t go there for a steak, heart to heart conversation about their dead parents, a nap then he takes them out to eat and sends them home without a kiss. Nor, to my knowledge, does he show at their house in the middle of a night finally to get that kiss. He’s into you. If he was a big spender, his fuck buddies would be reigning supreme in one of these sections and doing it regularly. From what I heard, you are the first.”
I was rethinking having shared such detail about my Knight Encounters but, alas, too late.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before we went out?” I asked.
“Because I wanted to see him with you to know what all the rest meant. Now I know. He’s into you and not for a fuck. He’s just into you.”
My eyes shifted over her shoulder and I muttered loudly, “Cocktail waitress, two o’clock.”
Viv let my hand go, turned to my side and I smiled as the waitress arrived and I accepted my San Pellegrino.
Viv turned to the cocktail waitress and asked baldly, “You know if Sebring set up any of his other women in their own VIP section?”
Oh God, Viv and her curiosity. She was an assistant catering and banquet manager at a swank hotel. She should have been an investigative journalist.
The waitress got pale, I could tell even by the club lights.
She swayed away but answered politely, “Mr. Sebring doesn’t allow gossip.”
“We won’t tell,” Viv assured.
“I can’t take that chance,” she replied. “I’m sorry but when I say Mr. Sebring doesn’t allow gossip, I mean, if he found out, I’d lose my job.”
Wow. Interesting.
Viv looked at me. “See what I mean?”
I gave her wide eyes and looked back to the waitress. “Sorry, she didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
“If he asks, tell him I didn’t say anything,” she stated and I felt my brows draw together.
But I answered, “Okay.”
“It was a big thing, me getting a VIP section. He only picks the right girls for that. This is my first. He gives you a bonus if you get a section like this because sometimes the drinks are free or go on a tab and they forget to tip. Rich people, they do that a lot. Even celebrities, they get so much free stuff, they can be not such hot tippers. Or that’s what the girls say who’ve worked these sections. So Mr. Sebring gives a good bonus. Way beyond any tips you can make and he gives it even if you make tips, like your friends are giving tonight. I want to do it again. I have a kid. I can use a bonus, regular-like. So, you know, his woman, her friends curious, he might get that you’d ask me then ask if I spilled. You’ll tell him I didn’t, right?”
“Right,” I said quietly but she still heard me. I knew this from the relief on her face and I figured she was a dab hand at hearing stuff through loud music since she had practice.
“You need another water,” she tipped her head to my water then looked at Viv with her half-full martini, “or a Grey Goose martini,” she smiled gamely, showing she remembered Viv’s order, “you just call me. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Viv replied.
“And I’ll tell him you did a good job,” I added but she shook her head.
“You don’t have to. He’ll know. He watches. From his window. He sees everything or one of his boys does. That’s why I think he might ask you if I spilled, in case he sees me right now or one his boys does and reports it to him because they tell him everything.”
“Well, if you’re nervous, you don’t have to stick close, honey,” I told her.
She nodded. “No offense but Mr. Sebring’s rules are, no matter who the celebrity, everyone in the section gets attention so I should do a walkthrough.”
“Go right ahead,” I offered.
She nodded again, smiled then took off.
I looked at Viv to see she was looking after the waitress.
Then her head turned to me and she grinned.
“You’re a celebrity.”
“Uh, Viv, didn’t you think that was weird?”
“Uh, Anya,” she leaned in, “yeah. What did I tell you? The man keeps his shit tight.”
I didn’t like this.
“You don’t like that.”
I blinked, my head jerking and I stared at Viv.
“Get out of my head,” I ordered.
“Girl, I’ve known you eight years and you’ve been my best friend seven and three quarters of those eight years. It’s impossible for me not to be in your head. So I’ll repeat and use an example this time. Sandrine, we both have been watching for six years that girl trying to land the golden goose. You landed yours. No matter how bumpy the ride gets, listen to your Auntie Vivica, hold the fuck on.”
My back straightened. “Knight’s not a golden goose.”
She leaned in and her face was serious. So serious, I held my breath.
“He is. He absolutely, one hundred percent is… the… golden… goose. And that’s dresses, phones, shit-hot apartments, Aston Martins and a beautiful man who only has eyes for you and makes the world melt away when you two are together even if that together lasts five minutes. There are very few women who meet men like that in their lifetime because there are very few men like that alive. And there are fewer women still who recognize it, take care of it and move heaven and earth to keep it. Now, listen to me. Hold. The. Fuck. On.”
“Okay, Auntie Vivica,” I whispered.
She leaned back, grinned and ordered, “You waver, you call me.”
I sucked in breath.
Then I agreed, “Okay.”
Her eyes dropped to my hand then back to me.
“San Pellegrino?” she asked.
“Knight doesn’t want me drunk,” I answered.
She grinned again. It was slower. It was knowing. And her eyes got warm.
“You do the nasty, you also call me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t care if he makes you sign a contract and sues your ass for telling me. I wanna know how that man is in bed.”
“How about this,” I started to suggest, “we set up a scoring system right now and that way I can just give you a number, it says it all and I avoid being sued.”
“One, he’s shit, not worth discussing and you’re dumping his ass but keeping the phone, shoes, bags, dresses and etc.” She said instantly and went on, “Two, he’s shit but not such bad shit it’s worth losing the apartment, the ride and the VIP section. Three, he’s still shit but there were moments. Four, he’s somewhat shit but only because you think it’s new and worth another go and it’ll get better. Five, average and workable. Six, slightly above average and promising. Seven, he got you off in a happy way but there’s room for improvement. Eight, all good and possibility of getting better. Nine, he rocked your world. Ten, he created all new ones and you never wanna come up for air. Work for you?”
“I’m not sure I’ll remember that.”
“Well, I will so don’t worry. I’ll give you a refresher when the time comes.”
She so would.
I burst out laughing.
Viv slid her arm around my waist, pulled me close and she burst out laughing too.
I slid mine around her waist and once I quit laughing, I took a sip of my San Pellegrino with lemon in it.
Then I turned my head, tipped it back the inch it had to go to catch my girl’s eyes, leaned close and whispered, “I so love you.”
“And I so love you too. And, babe, let me tell you, this guy is real, doesn’
I smiled into her tawny eyes.
She smiled into my gray ones.
Then she sucked back martini.
I sucked back water.
Then I asked, “Wanna dance?”
To which Vivica answered, “Absolutely.”
Then we set our drinks aside and hit the dance floor.
* * * * *
Fifteen minutes later, on the dance floor I felt a hand on the small of my back that didn’t move.
I twisted my neck and blinked at Hulk.
He leaned in and shouted in my ear, “Knight wants you off the dance floor.”
I couldn’t have possibly heard him right.
So I leaned into him, still swaying to the music and shouted back, “What?”
He kept his mouth to my ear, hand to the small of my back and repeated, “Woman, Knight wants you off the dance floor.”
I pulled back, caught his eyes and asked, “Off?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“The dance floor?”
Another nod. “Yup.”
What on earth?
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t question, I just do. And Knight wants you off the dance floor.”
I leaned into him and shouted, “What if I don’t go?”
“Then I carry you to his office, lock you in, tell him you declined and leave you to explain to him why you did.”
Oh God.
I looked up toward the window to Knight’s office.
I didn’t know what to do. I liked to dance. I didn’t like to be told I couldn’t. Not at all. But this was his party and he’d paid for it in a lot of ways which was something at that moment I did not like.
Crap.
I looked at Hulk.
He’d carry me to Knight’s office. Totally.
Crap!
I turned to Vivica who was moving but watching and I put my hands to my mouth.
“Gonna go back to the section,” I shouted.
Her eyes shifted from me to Hulk to me.