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I rubbed my brow, biting my inner cheek so I wouldn’t laugh. “Satanas, Malik.”
He cocked his head to the side and leaned down, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed. A few damp strands of obsidian hair fell onto his forehead.
“I used to think this whole devil worship thing was super fucking weird, but I gotta admit, having a best friend who’s all satanic and shit kinda turns me on.”
I opened my mouth, and then snapped it closed. Best friend? Those two words both thrilled me and made my gut twist into a painful knot. I focused on the beginning part of his statement, shoving the latter into a box to sort through later.
“The man who has a snake tattooed on his neck and belongs to a gang named Venom is calling my religion weird?”
He stood up and turned his head, forcing me to look at the tattoo of a snake wrapped around the letter V. I’d never tell him I thought the insignia was hot. At least, not right this minute. He did not need any more steroids for his ego, especially from me.
“This tat got me more pussy than I knew what to do with.”
“Got is past tense…”
“I know. I’ve got my sights set on something e
lse now. Something I know will be a lot more satisfying.” His accompanying smile revealed straight white teeth.
I wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but I had no desire to understand.
“Please spare me the details of your extracurricular activities.”
He leaned down again, this time to climb onto the bed and make his way between my legs. When he was nearly nose to nose with me he stopped. “Why? You jealous?” he taunted with a slight smirk.
Was I jealous? No. Was I possessive? Hell yes. I wanted to annihilate any woman who even smiled at him in a sexually suggestive manner. But, friends.
“What exactly am I supposed to be jealous of, Malik?”
His delectable lips flattened into a straight line, slow blinking eyes stared directly into mine. Instead of instinctively leaning back, I physically locked my body in place.
After weeks together and countless moments spent alone, I still wasn’t over how good he looked.
Maliki was ridiculously beautiful, and twice as twisted. The combination made for a lethal cocktail I was craving to inebriate me.
He gave a slight shake of his head and broke our staring contest as he settled himself, turning so his back was facing my front and his waist was lightly pressing against my apex.
I silently squeezed a blob of coconut lotion into my palm, and then began gently rubbing it into his smooth, sun-kissed skin.
The quiet stretched on but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was natural and almost homely. There were many facets when it came to this unorthodox relationship of ours.
Admittedly, I didn’t have many friends of the opposite sex, but I knew this wasn’t a typical boy-girl comradeship.
Our lives were constant battles of hardship and carefully placing one foot in front of the other to ensure our survival. That never stopped him from being able to make me smile.
We held hands and shared a bed, flirted non-stop, and told each other morbid truths we’d never told the others. So, I guess I could see the best-friend thing if it weren’t for the fact that we pussy footed around the obvious.
For all that we shared, I had never spoken a word about him taking up one of the darkest corners of my mind. He didn’t know the way he intrigued my demons and called to the monster that dwelled inside my head.
I kept them safely hidden from everyone else for fear they would try to exorcise them. I hated them with every inch of my soul, which is precisely why I needed them even more.
I think that’s what made tonight strange in more ways than one. The ache between my thighs and the way my fingers lingered on his skin for longer than they needed to should have set off alarm bells in my head. It was stronger than it had been in quite some time. I brushed aside my stirrings of desire as simply needing to get laid.
I once had few inhibitions when it came to sex, but he hadn’t attempted to fuck me again, and the last person who touched my body before that made sure I knew fucking me was like fucking a corpse.
All the self-confidence in the world couldn’t stop me from feeling the stinging humiliation that followed those words. Maliki keeping his hands to himself wasn’t helping me feel better.
As to why I was touching him longer than necessary? Simple: I loved touching him.
