Only With You (The Knights, #2)

by E. Salvador

For those who never felt enough. For those who struggle with the right thing to say. For those who just want to be heard or just need a hug. And for those who self-sabotage because you don’t think you deserve to be happy, I promise you deserve that and more!

She came out of nowhere.

I saw a cockroach and thought of you.”

For example, I honest to God feel like smothering Saint in his sleep. By no means am I thinking of committing murder. I’m above that.

What can I say? I like a confident girl with wit and she’s hot.

I don’t like people in general, but my hatred is reserved for a few. My father, his family, and the Sparks girl.

Not that I’d be able to forget anything. I have hyperthymesia. Many people say it’s a blessing, but truly, it’s a fucking curse.

“You ever heard that enemies make the best lovers?”

or in a studio alone,

He's the YouTuber I bet.

She’s under the impression we need to fuck the hate out of our systems. I’m not sure where she got that from, but fuck that.

“I always knew you were obsessed with me. Unless I’m hallucinating, you’re standing right in front of me. A little too close, might I add.” He takes a few steps back. “I’m not here because I’m obsessed with you. Don’t ever say anything revolting like that ever again.” I wryly chuckle. “If you say so.” “A state in which someone thinks about someone or something constantly or frequently, especially in a way that’s not normal.” “What?” I stare, feeling dumbfounded. “The definition of obsession,”

“That doesn’t define me. You’d have to be remotely somewhat of my type for me to even consider the thought of thinking of you constantly or frequently. And you’re far from my type.”

“I’m not your type, yet you’re always looking at my boobs.”

“I may be fascinated with your boobs, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Didn’t know you cared so much about me or my safety.” “Gabby and Polly would probably never shut up if something happened to you. So, wipe that grin off your face. You’re not that important,”

“You miss out on a lot of fun when you think too much.”

“See how easy this is? You could have had me at your mercy, but instead, you’re at mine.”

As much as she annoys me, it also slightly entertains my dull and blasé life.

“Don’t apologise, I chose to be here. And I don’t mind being out here with you.”

“Let’s go then, Angel.”

My name leaving her lips catches me off guard.

The longer I stare in silence, the more I get immersed with the thought of Julianna, because the light reminds me of her.

“My mother choked on her vomit and I watched it happen.” I sink back and laugh to myself. “I watched her die, and now, I get to relive that memory until the day that I die in painstaking detail. Isn’t that something? But it’s fine.” I shrug, swallowing past the thick emotions gripping my throat like a noose. “I guess my childhood could’ve been worse.”

How are we supposed to get along if we don’t argue?

Landon Taylor bought me something again.

“Are you really…happy?” “Are you kidding me?” I don’t bother hiding how giddy I feel and let my lips stretch wider. “I’m not only happy, I’m…I’m…you do care half a fuck about me.”

“You should smile more often. It looks good on you,” I voice without thinking.

I can’t believe I’m saying that, but I kind of like being with him.

he releases my ponytail and grips the back of my neck, forcing me onto my tiptoes, and crashes his lips to mine. It all happens too fast, but it takes a second for my shock to dissolve.

“Fuck,” he rasps, raking his fingers through his hair with disbelief. “I⁠—” “Do it again,” I hoarsely breathe and fist his shirt, tugging him back to me.

“Come on, Angel.” He squeezes my ass hard again. “Show me how bad you really want it.”

“You want me to call you my little slut. You want me to degrade you, because that’s what you fantasise about. That’s what gets your pussy wet, right? That’s probably what you think about when you’re touching yourself, huh? You dream about it, don’t you? Someone calling you a whore, treating you like one, fucking you like one.”

“Don’t worry, no one has to know. It’ll be our secret.”

“I want you, Julianna. I’m desperate for you.”

“Just one night.”

“I’ll get what I want and I’ll treat you the way you’ve always fantasised about.”

“And what do you want?” “To taste you.”

“One night,” he rasps in a desperate plea, grabbing the hem of my sweater. “This could end disastrously.” “I don’t care.” Landon dismisses my comment. “I don’t think it’ll work out for me.” “I don’t care. It’ll work for me.”

It’s just a one-time thing. It’ll mean nothing. “One night.” I concede.

Say, ‘Landon, please touch me, because I’m a needy slut with a needy pussy.’

“If something doesn’t feel right or you’re uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop.” I nod, but that’s not enough for him. “No, say it. Boundaries and consent are important to me. I need and want to know when you’re not into something or if you’re uncomfortable. I will stop.”

“Go…” I don’t mean to, but the moan easily tumbles past my lips. “To hell.” “One day, but right now, I’m going to treat you however the fuck I want.” His gruff words hold promise.

“No one will ever make you feel like this,” he says harshly, each word piercing a part of body. “No. Fucking. Body. Do you understand me?”

“You’re so easy, coming on my tongue like this. Like a good slut,”

I stand and search for my sweater, but it’s nowhere in sight. I text him and ask him where he threw it, but I never get a reply. I keep searching, but eventually give up and settle for my pajamas.

“Talking to her made me feel my best.” And what happened in her room has nothing to do with the way she made me feel. A pleased smile curls on his lips. “Does this her have a name?” “Julianna Sparks.”

“Landon?” Finnick Kamiński stares at me, bewildered, but he smiles nonetheless. “What are you⁠—” I push off his 4Runner and toss him the reason for my headache. “This is yours.” He catches it with ease and stares, puzzled. “What are you doing with this? I thought I gave this to⁠—” “Julianna, yes. She doesn’t need it anymore. It’s washed.”

there’s one thing that’s certain: I like whatever the hell we’ve got going on. I like that she fights me, when she gives me her patronising stares, and her smart-arse mouth. God, I love her mouth.

“And what were you trying to get across?” “To kindly fuck off.” And that’s as polite as I’m going to get. She stares, taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means I want Saturday again.”

“I was wrong. I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. I want more as long as you do.”