The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 155

Chapter 87-2

Claim

I feel his c**k harden beneath me, heavy and pulsing against my ass, but he doesn’t push. He stays still, holding my gaze with dark, búrning intensity as I lift myself slightly, adjusting my position over his lap.

“Zara,” he rasps, his hands coming up to grip my hips, steadying me. “Are you sure? You’ve had such a long, exhausting day…”

“I am completely sure,” I whisper. “I want to feel you, Locke. I need to know we’re real. Right here. Right

now.”

His breath hitches. With heart-stopping care, Locke guides my hips down, sinking slowly into my hot,

needy cunt.

A long, shuddering gasp tears from my lips as his huge c**k fills nie. The sensation is overwhelming: the hot water swirling around our joined bodies, the absolute fullness of him anchoring me to the earth, the heavy thrum of his heart beating against my spine. Locke holds himself rigid for a moment, letting me adjust, his hands gripping my waist with a white-knuckled intensity that betrays how much restraint he’s exercising.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commands softly. “Eyes over here.”

I open my eyes, turning my head as far as I can to lock my gaze with his.

“You are my entire world,” Locke murmurs, his voice thick with an emotion so raw it makes my throat tighten. “Nobody and nothing takes you from me. Not Willow, not Knox, not cancer. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” I choke out, a tear mixing with the dampness on my cheek. “Locke – I believe you.”

Slowly, Locke begins to move. He lifts my hips gently, establishing a slow, deep rhythm that sends waves of incredible warmth radiating straight to my core. Every thrust is careful, deliberate, and devastatingly

intimate.

He rocks into me with a steady, rhythmic cadence, his lips never leaving my skin. He kisses my shoulder blade, the back of my neck, whispering sweet, filthy praise against my skin between shallow breaths.

My hands grip his thighs beneath the water, my head rolling back onto his shoulder as the sensation begins to build, tight and undeniable. My back arches, my breasts pushing towards the ceiling as I rock on him, impaling myself on his c**k, needing him deeper and harder and more. The water sloshes softly against the sides of the tub, a soundtrack to the sacred world he’s built around us, a world of moans and cries and sobs.

“Locke…” I gasp, my fingers digging into his skin as the coil tightly winds inside me. “Oh, God… Locke…”

“I’m right here, Zara. Fuck, you feel good, baby… no matter how much I’m inside this sweet p***y, it’s never enough.” His rhythm shifts, driving deeper, meeting every roll of my hips with absolute precision. “Let go for me… cum for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

At his command, the climax hits me like a sudden, breathtaking wave, shattering the last lingering remnants of the day’s stress. I cry out his name, my body trembling violently in his arms as bliss crashes over me. Locke lets out a low, guttural growl against my ear, his movements growing harder, faster for several intense seconds, before he buries himself as deep as he can go, pouring his own release into me

Chapter 82-2

as his chest heaves against my back.

Clam

We stay like that for a long time, locked together in the cooling water, our breathing slowly evening out in the silent room. Locke’s arms remain wrapped securely around my waist, his face buried in the wet curve of my neck, occasionally pressing soft, lingering kisses to my skin.

The heavy knot of fear and guilt that has been crushing my chest all evening has finally dissolved, washed away by the quiet, fierce strength of the man holding me. I let my eyes flutter shut, sinking into the absolute safety of his arms.

Then, a sharp, metallic ping pierces the silence of the penthouse.

My eyes snap open. Locke’s entire body goes instantly rigid behind me, his muscles locking up in a heartbeat.

“What the fuck?” he says. “Who the fuck is in the elevator?”

“Locke…” I whisper, my heart slamming into my ribs as the cooling water suddenly feels like ice. “Does someone else have the code? The key?”

Locke doesn’t answer me. In one fluid, lethal movement, he gently sets me on the tub bottom, and rises out of the tub, dripping water onto the tile as he reaches for a towel.

In the far distance – down the hallway, and across the kitchen and living room – the elevator door slides smoothly open, and a cold draft rushes into the apartment.

Locke doesn’t hesitate. He wraps the towel around his waist, and to my utter shock, he pulls a gun from a hidden and locked box under the sink, and motions for me to stay put. He racks the slide with a muted, lethal click, stepping out into the hallway like a shadow.

I ignore his unspoken order to stay in the bathroom. I have to see who’s in the apartment with us.

Scrambling out of the tub, I pull a silk robe over my damp skin, tying the sash tightly around my waist. My heart thunders wildly against my ribs, each beat echoing like a drum in my ears. The bathroom floor is cold against my bare feet as I creep toward the bedroom door, peeking around the frame.

The hallway is dim, bathed only in the pale glow of the kitchen lights. Standing near the threshold of the open front door is a small, shadowed frame, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent light of the entryway.

It’s Willow.

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