The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 279

Chapter 138-2

Claim

The angle against the wall is deep, intense, and completely unyielding. Locke holds me pinned, setting a hard, bruising pace that burns away every last drop of the day’s frustration. Every thrust is deliberate, filling my cunt so completely that the whole world narrows down to the heat of his skin, the grip of his hands on my ass, and the low, primal sounds in his chest.

“You’re mine, Zara,” he says, his eyes locked on mine, stripping away every defense I have left. “All mine.”

“All yours,” I gasp, my nails digging into the muscle of his back, holding him as tight as I humanly can. “Only yours.”

The rhythm builds, wild and feral, the friction rising until it’s impossible to breathe. Locke’s movements turn harder, faster, his jaw set as he chases the edge alongside me. I arch into him, clutching his shoulders, until the tension snaps and the world shatters into blinding flashes of light and overwhelming

heat.

I cry out his name, my p***y clenching violently around his hardness. A second later, Locke lets out a low, guttural groan as he follows me over the edge, pouring everything he has into me.

For a long time, the only sound in the penthouse is the heavy, ragged sound of our breathing. Locke stays buried inside me, his forehead resting against mine, his chest heaving as he lets his pulse settle.

Slowly, gently, he lowers me down until my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor, though my knees are so weak I immediately have to catch myself against his bare chest.

“Holy fuck, that was incredible,” Locke says, stepping back… and that’s when the ridiculousness of the moment hits.

He reaches down, trying to pull his jeans and underwear back up over his hips, but they catch awkwardly on the tops of his thick leather biker boots. He lets out a frustrated, low curse, hopping slightly on one foot as he tries to kick his left boot off without unlacing it.

The boot refuses to budge. He stumbles back a half-step, catching his balance against the elevator door frame with a loud thump, his jaw tight with concentration as he furiously wrenches the leather off his heel.

I lean back against the wall to watch. I smooth down the long skirt of my dress, feeling his cum and my release between my thighs, and burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny,” Locke grunts, finally kicking the first boot across the floor, then aggressively wrestling with the second until it pops off with a loud snap. “Stupid fucking clothes.”

He pulls his jeans back up, buttoning and belting them, standing there bare-chested, heavily tattooed, and broad-shouldered. He looks like a gorgeous male model off the cover of a dark romance novel… except for the fact that he’s standing in his thick, gray woollen socks.

I can’t help myself. I step over to him in my bare feet, wrapping my arms around his bare waist and burying my face in his warm chest, my shoulders shaking with quiet amusement.

“You look very intimidating right now,” I murmur against his skin, teasing him. “Especially the socks.”

Locke lets out a long, heavy breath, his chest rising beneath my cheek as a reluctant, quiet chuckle finally

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Chapter 135

Claim

breaks through his mood. He wraps his large arms around me, resting his chin on top of my head, all the Tension from his brutal afternoon finally melting away.

“Shut up, baby,” he says affectionately, scooping me up into his arms effortlessly this time. “C’mon.”

He carries me through the penthouse to the bedroom, lowering us both onto the mattress. He tucks my head cleanly under his chin, his thumb tracing quiet, rhythmic circles over the fabric of my dress at my

arm.

The sky outside the high windows has faded to a deep, bruised violet, the lights below flickering to life like a carpet of fallen stars. The quiet is absolute, safe and warm.

I trace the dark lines of the tattoo across his ribcage, my mind drifting slowly back to reality. Back to the call with Willow.

Locke catches my hand, lacing his fingers through mine and pressing a quiet kiss to my knuckles.

“Where’d you go just now, baby?” he asks softly.

I let out a soft breath, nestling a little closer into his neck. “Just thinking.”

He turns his head slightly. “About Willow?”

I hesitate for a beat, then nod. “Yes.”

Locke is quiet for a moment, his thumb resuming its slow path over my arm. He doesn’t pull away, but I can feel the subtle shift in his body… the protective, guarded edge that always comes up whenever my sister’s name enters the room.

“Can I ask you something, Zara?” he asks softly, his tone carefully measured, free of judgment but heavy with genuine concern.

“Anything. You know that.”

He looks up at the ceiling, his jaw tightening just a fraction before he looks back down at me. “Why are you so determined to give her another chance? After everything she did? What she said?”

OFF

I close my eyes for a second, feeling the deep, aching weight of the question. It’s a fair question.

“It’s not simple, Locke. Maybe it should be… but it’s just not.”

“I know it’s not. I’m not trying to be harsh. I just… I hate seeing you open yourself up to get hurt again by someone who hasn’t proven she deserves your trust.”

“To understand why I can’t completely close the door on her,” I say. “You have to understand what I see of myself in her.”

Locke settles deeper into the pillow, his gaze fixed on mine, entirely focused. “So tell me.”

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