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“I’m proud of you.”
Those four words held a deeper significance to him than one might imagine. It tied into the past that had a hand in shaping who he was.
I hated this.
I desperately wanted to break his walls down, but I knew in the end it was better for both of us if I didn’t do anything. Who was I to dig into his wounds and then leave him to bleed?
Remembering what I said to him the night before, I closed my eyes out of shame and regret.
When I reopened them, I peered up at him and found he’d already been looking down. There was a tangible tension between us. Had this been a different point in time, this situation wouldn’t have been remotely like this. He would be touching every part of me before finally bringing our bodies together.
I missed that.
I missed him.
“Will you kiss me?” I blurted out.
His perfect brows rose ever so slightly. My face warmed. Why did I say that?
“Igno—”
He flipped me onto my back, causing my sentence to end on an “oof.” He spread my legs and settled his body between them. Soft, calloused hands slid beneath my thighs, pulling me snug against him.
“Mal.” I flattened a hand against his chest. He did everything intensely, especially this.
“You really don’t have to.”
“Tell me where,” he replied, sliding his palms higher.
“Anywhere?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but part of my brain was still sending out warning signals. This wasn’t a good idea. I’d avoided being beneath him for nearly four weeks.
He laughed lightly and leaned down, capturing my mouth. As soon as our lips met, the debate in my head became obsolete. He kissed me briefly but deeply before moving his attentions gradually lower. My body warmed in response, the feeling in my lower stomach bringing more wetness between my legs. His lips on my neck, he gently nipped the flesh, causing me to shudder.
“Mal,” I breathed.
“Don’t speak. Just feel.” His voice was cool and controlled. He worked his way lower, telling me to lift so that he could remove my tank top.
The cool air had goosebumps spreading across my skin. With no bra on, my nipples hardened. Without comment, he continued his path downward, taking his time. Lips skimmed over my navel, making my stomach dip.
Gripping the elastic band of my shorts, he pulled them off and paused. I wasn’t wearing underwear, but I wasn’t embarrassed. He’d seen my body a hundred times before. His eyes traveled from my bare pussy to my hairline, taking their time. As they did, his hands tightened around my thighs.
“I fucking hate how beautiful you are. I hate it, but I love it too.”
I rolled my lips, unsure what to say. This wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this.
He was one to talk. He was infuriatingly gorgeous too.
“You know what makes it better?” he continued, spreading my legs further apart as he settled his face between them. His stubble rubbed against my skin, heightening my senses. “Knowing you’re mine. It makes your pussy taste sweeter.”
The first tentative, teasing lick had a soft moan spilling from my throat. His strong tongue slowly made its way up my pussy and to my clit, making my mind go blank. There were no thoughts, just an urgent need for him to keep going.
His fingers skimmed along my inner thighs. He teased and tortured me before sliding in a single digit. His finger swirled against my walls, hitting the most sensitive spots as he stretched my pussy. A second finger slid in and he began to rock them in and out of me while his tongue worked my clit.
My soft moans became repetitive and loud.
It had been so long it didn’t take much to bring me over the edge.
I reached down and threaded my fingers through his thick, dark hair, pulling his face deeper between my legs.
“Mal,” I whimpered.
“Come,” he urged, pushing his fingers deeper inside me. “Come, babygirl. Let me taste it.”
My thigh muscles began to lock up, my inner walls contracting as he brought me to climax. Tightening my grip in his hair, I cried out as my body trembled and heat pervaded through my veins. He continued to lick me as I came back down. I felt like a puddle of mush. When he drew back, the table lamp illuminated the juices on his face.
He moved away to remove his jeans and briefs, lowering them over the sharp V that led to his cock. I pushed myself up onto my elbows so I could watch him.
Like him, I’d seen his body so many times, but I could never get used to it. He was toned in all the right ways. His tattooed sleeves and double insignias made him a leaving, breathing work of art.
My eyes traveled over the dark patch of curls and to his cock. It was thick and long, with a prominent vein going from the smooth head to the base. Something was different, though.
