Page 69 of Knox's Boy

"Leaving?" I sat up straighter, the highlighter cap forgotten in my hand. "For where?"

"Italy." He watched my reaction with that infuriating half-smile. "My villa on the Amalfi Coast."

My mouth fell open. I'd seen pictures of the Amalfi Coast in travel magazines. Blue water, colorful buildings clinging to cliffs, the kind of place that existed in movies and Instagram feeds, not real life. Not my life, anyway.

"You're serious?" I managed, heart suddenly racing. "Like, actual Italy? With the pasta and the wine and the fancy people?"

Knox laughed. He crossed the room and perched on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of me, our knees almost touching.

"Yes, little one. Actual Italy. With pasta and wine and fancy people." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin. "Though I'm only interested in one particularly fancy boy."

Heat bloomed across my cheeks. His casual affection could still make me blush like a teenager.

"But my classes," I said, reality crashing back. "And your work. And I have that paper due for Psychology, and…"

Knox placed a finger against my lips, silencing me mid-spiral. "All arranged. I've spoken with your professors. Your assignments will be waiting when we return, with extensions as needed. As for my work, that's the beauty of having competent people who are paid extraordinarily well."

I blinked at him, still processing. "You've already talked to my professors?"

"Of course." He looked mildly offended that I would question his thoroughness. "The moment the idea occurred to me, I made all necessary arrangements. Well, I asked Sarah to. But she's paid to do that. The only variable is whether you want to go."

"Whether I…" I laughed. "Are you kidding me? Italy? With you?" I threw my arms around his neck, nearly knocking him backward off the coffee table. "Yes. God, yes."

His arms wrapped around me, solid and secure, as he pressed a kiss to my temple. "Good boy," he murmured against my skin.

“Daddy, I still think I don't deserve all of this. You're spending so much money on me and…”

He stopped me right there, hands firm on my arms. "We talked about this," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "You are not an expense. You are not a project. You are my partner, and I want to experience the world with you. I want you to have things you never dreamed were possible. The money is mine, and I can do whatever I want with it."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without ruining it by apologizing or minimizing.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said. He smiled, but there was something more there. He was playful, and I saw the spark in his eyes. I loved it when he was in such a good mood.

“Or are you trying to tell me how to spend my money, little brat?” He was just playing, but I felt my cock twitching immediately.

“I'd never tell you how to do anything, would I now, Daddy?” I answered back. He got my wrist and pulled me to him. I went easily. He planted a kiss on my lips.

“I don’t expect you to be so foolish.” He smacked my ass, hard.

“Ouchie! What was that for?!” I asked, pretending to be shocked, and he smirked.

“You know very well, and there's more coming,” he said and smacked me again. This time, I moaned. I couldn't help it. "You love it when I'm rough with you," he said. "Don't you, little prince?"

"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, mortified by how instantly my body responded.

"I spoil you because you are so, so good," he said as his teeth grazed my throat. "But sometimes you forget who you belong to."

He yanked me in for a kiss, heat and teeth, and I melted into him, shoving my hands up under his shirt, desperate to get at his skin, his chest, the hard muscle that had become my only home. The edges of his stubble scraped my lips raw, and every time his tongue invaded my mouth, I moaned, shamelessly.

He broke the kiss and pushed me down, guiding me until I was kneeling on the carpet between his knees.

"Show me how much you want this," he said, one hand still buried in my hair.

I fumbled with his belt, fingers trembling. Damn, I was hard as hell. He was already hard too, straining against the expensive wool of his slacks. I freed him, my mouth watering at the sightof his cock, thick and flushed and perfect. He watched me the whole time, possessive and greedy.

I licked the head, tasting the salt of him, and he exhaled so sharply it was almost a growl. I loved how much he wanted me, how he was barely holding himself back. I took him deep, letting him fill my mouth, my throat, until I gagged a little and he moaned.

"Good boy," he said, and the praise made me shiver. I sucked him in, bobbing my head, using my tongue in ways I knew he liked, hands wrapped around the base for leverage. He fucked my mouth, and his grip on my hair was an ‘I own you,’ and it made me crazy. I looked up at him, eyes glazing, and the sight of him watching me, utterly focused, made me want to come on the spot. He stroked my cheek with his thumb, so gentle in contrast to the way he held my head.