The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 242

Chapter 122-2

He reaches down between us, his fingers finds my swollen clit once again. He works the swollen pearl in sync with the heavy roll of his hips, applying a firm, circling friction that drives the pleasure to a fever pitch.

The dual sensation is agonizingly sweet. Every deep surge of his hips sends a shockwave straight up my spine, pulling broken, breathless whimpers from my chest that echo off the bathroom walls.

“Look at me,” he commands softly against my ear, his voice possessive and raw. “Turn your head, Zara. Let me see you.”

I turn my head as far as I can toward him. His face is inches from mine, his eyes burning with an intense, fierce devotion that cuts right through the pleasure blinding me. Water drips from the strands of hair plastered to his forehead, running down his sharp cheekbones.

“Locke… I love you,” I gasp, my voice cracking as the familiar, tight coil low in my stomach winds up again, tighter and tighter until I can barely breathe. “I love you so much…”

He lets out a harsh, ragged breath, his hips driving deep, each impact sending a shockwave of pleasure straight through me, his thumb pressing harder against my clit with every drive.

“I love you, Zara,” he rasps, his dark voice filling the stall, absolute and unwavering. “With everything. Always.”

The words shatter my remaining restraint. My body breaks, a second orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave, my p***y pulsing tight around his c**k in violent, helpless spasms. A high, breathless cry escapes my lips as heat ripples through my hips, my whole frame trembling against the wall.

Feeling me clamp down around him shatters Locke lets out a deep, guttural roar against my skin. His hips thrust into me one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go as his own climax hits him.

His entire frame locks rigid, every muscle in his back strained taut under his skin as he releases into me, his pulse hammering wildly against my back, holding me so hard against his chest I can barely tell where my heart stops and his begins.

We stay like that for a long, quiet stretch, suspended in the steam and the steady downfall of hot water. Locke’s forehead rests on the wall next to mine, his chest heaving against my back as he slowly catches his breath, his heavy arm still locked tight around my waist to keep my shaking legs from giving out beneath me.

Slowly, he slides out of me with a soft friction, instantly turning me around in his arms before I can even turn on my own.

He lifts me slightly, pulling me flush against his front as the hot water washes over both of us, rinsing away the slick sweat of our skin.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his fingers gently tangling in my wet hair to pull my head back so he can search my eyes. “Zara?”

“Never better,” I say, my arms wrapped around his broad back, tracing the long, jagged line of a scar running down his shoulder blade. “And I really mean that.”

1/2

Chapter 122-4

Claim

Locke reaches out and turns off the shower handles. The sudden silence in the bathroom is absolute, Broken only by the steady dripping of water and our shared, heavy breathing. The thick steam begins to curl and drift in the quiet air.

He slides the glass door open, stepping out first and holding my hand as I step onto the thick bathmat. Locke grabs a large, heavy towel, wrapping it gently around my shoulders before taking a second one for himself.

He doesn’t rush to dry himself; instead, he stands there in the cool air, taking his time to pat the water from my hair, my shoulders, shoulders, my back, and my arms with quiet, reverent care, wrapping me up like something precious.

I take the corner of his towel, leaning in close to wipe the water from his broad chest, tracing the heavy lines of dark ink etched into his skin, feeling the steady, calm rhythm of his pulse beneath my palm.

Side by side, we step up to the sprawling marble vanity in front of the fogged mirror. The cool air has coated the entire glass in a thick white haze. Locke reaches out, wiping a wide circle clean through the steam on the glass.

Our reflections emerge.

Locke stands massive behind me, his hair tousled, his broad shoulders and tattooed chest gleaming in the warm vanity light. His large hands rest gently on my waist, holding me anchored against him, his broad fingers meeting over my hipbones.

I stand in front of him, my skin flushed a deep, healthy pink, my hair lush and curling around my shoulders, my eyes bright and clear.

The shadow of tomorrow’s treatment, the looming threat of the club, and the dark reality waiting outside the penthouse are all still there… but looking at the two of us together in the glass, it doesn’t look terrifying

anymore.

Locke catches my gaze in the reflection. A slow, faint smile touches the corner of his mouth, erasing his hardened edge and leaving just the man who loves me completely.

He leans down, resting his chin on my shoulder, looking at us side by side in the quiet glass.

“We’re good,” he murmurs softly, his deep voice carrying a quiet certainty that grounds my entire soul. Right, baby?”

I place my hands over his where they rest on my waist, leaning back into his solid strength, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah,” I say softly, feeling a peace settle deep into my bones. “We’re good, handsome. So good.”

314

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