Man Kneeling Silhouette Novels & Stories

She shrieked loudly, kissing the damp fabric and waving it over her head like a trophy. What was so special about it? I thought bitterly. It wasn’t even dry. Julian had been sweating, there was no doubt it would reek. Behind me, the noise suddenly exploded into screams, cheers and whistles. The cheerleaders had noticed Mr. Ashford pulling off his shirt to change into a casual one, the kind required for a coach on the rink. His movements were effortless and unbothered by the attention he was drawing. Even Thea screamed along with them.

The room went still—every breath counted. He stood, towering over them both. “On your knees, baby.” Alright, baby. Let’s keep the tension simmering—slow, dominant, and dripping with control: --- She knelt between them, head bowed slightly, heart thudding so loud she could barely think. Mr. Black stood over her, jaw tight, eyes hungry. Miles remained seated, still as a statue, his breath uneven. Mr. Black cupped her chin and tilted her face up. “Look at him,” he said. “He’s never seen anything like you on your knees before.”

She tilts her head, just a little, like she knows something I don’t. I shake my head hard. “No,” I say. “Not you.” The image shatters. Kael replaces her. He is kneeling, shoulders hunched, hands shaking as he tries to fix something already broken. Blood stains his fingers. His mouth moves like he wants to explain, like he wants forgiveness, but he never asks. Varek stands farther back. Half in shadow. Watching everything. His body is tight, ready, like the world might end any second and he would step into it without blinking.

3 I noticed the tear that ran down her face as she fearfully turned her head towards me. 7 At this point, she may as well be having a panic attack. 14 She sure looked like she was. 31 I chewed the inside of my bottom lip a bit. 5 Perhaps I could use that to my advantage. 23 I knelt down onto one knee, turning Khloe's body towards my own. 221 My hope was that kneeling would put less strain on her. 15 And that her having to look down at me might make me seem less intimidating, even though I knew that that was pretty much worthless given the situation.

Alpha Kai Chloe knelt on the forest floor between two warriors, her hands behind her back bound. Her mouth was gagged by a scarf that was tightly tied behind her head. Her face was hanging, her shoulders shaking with every sob that wrecked through her. Not so tough anymore? I thought to myself, squatting in front of her. Her body visibly trembled, whimpers leaving her mouth. Her wolf could feel our heavy aura, forcing her to submit, even though I could sense defiance.

Roman sat on an old wooden chair, the legs uneven, creaking faintly each time he leaned forward. His boots were planted firmly on the cold, damp floor, and his elbows rested on his knees. In front of him, Kade was on the ground, kneeling, shivering as the death dance before his eyes. His body trembled, soaked in sweat, his face streaked with blood. A dark stain on his pants made it obvious he’d lost control of his bladder.

I could see her shaking, fear rippling through her. “Now,” I said, voice sharper. Aurora’s head dropped, chin nearly touching her chest. Slowly, with obvious pain and effort, she knelt down at Vicky’s bedside. Her bad leg trembled violently beneath her, her hands shaking as she pressed her forehead to the floor. In that moment, all that fierce resistance was gone, replaced by a broken submission. She bowed forward, touching her forehead to the floor. The tile was cold, but she didn’t seem to notice. She repeated the movement, again and again, her voice flat and mechanical:

Then he grabs a face towel from the handle and casually steps down, wiping his face and neck with the towel. Standing contrapposto, he carefully regards the captives one after the other. They’re all on their knees, looking down with guilt and fear, their hands bound in front of them. Except one. This one is on his knees too, but he’s rather looking at the treadmill, and his hands aren’t bound.

What he was not supposed to do was arrive eight minutes early and be let through the gate before she had come downstairs. What he was not supposed to see was what was happening in the study doorway when he walked down the hallway escorted by Rosa. Kane had his back to the door. He was kneeling — not on one knee, fully kneeling — in front of Lila, both hands resting against the curve of her stomach, his head bowed slightly, his lips moving in words too low to carry. Lila had one hand in his hair and her eyes were closed and her face held the expression of a woman who is, quietly and completely, exactly where she belongs.

Like honoring the space and what was about to happen in it. Naked, she walked to the center of the room. Lowered herself to her knees. Assumed the position he’d taught her through months of careful instruction—back straight, head bowed, hands on her thighs with palms turned up. And waited. Minutes passed. Many minutes. She lost track of time in the silence. Then she heard the door open behind her. His footsteps crossed the room. Circled around her. Stopped in front of where she knelt. “Perfect,” he breathed. “You folded your clothes without being told.”