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We’re both practically whispering, like we’re sharing an illicit secret between us. And hell, maybe we are. We’re supposed to hate each other. We’re not supposed to want each other, and it feels like a dirty secret to hear him admit that he does.
Maybe that’s why I give him a secret of my own.
“I did touch myself,” I breathe out, bracing my arms on his shoulders as I move against him. “That night. In bed.”
“Fuck.” His curse is low and deep, and his hands tighten on my hips almost like a warning.
I should heed that warning. I should stop talking.
I should shove him away and hope like hell that getting some distance between us will allow sanity to return.
But instead, I murmur, “I thought about you. And Kian. And Frost.”
Malix’s head jerks back, and I expect to see anger in his eyes like I saw in Kian’s when I returned to the house that night. But there’s no fury. No jealousy. Just raw desire in his burning violet irises.
His fingers press deeper into the flesh of my hips, and I can feel his cock pulse against me. I could make him come like this, I realize wildly. I could get him off just by rubbing up against him like the cat he always teasingly calls me. I could push him over the edge just by talking, by telling him the things I’ve never admitted to anyone, and he could probably do the same to me.
My legs are already shaking with it, my body so keyed up with arousal that every brush of his cock against my clit feels like fire.
I’m soaked and empty and so fucking hungry for him.
“What did you think about?” Malix demands. “What did you imagine?”
He sounds almost desperate, his voice still low and hoarse. His breath is coming faster, and the feel of it gusting over my damp skin makes goosebumps scatter down my arms.
“You were inside me,” I murmur, the simmering heat in my belly dissolving into molten lava. “Kian was behind, inside me too. Frost was watching. Touching himself.”
“Fuck.” Malix makes another choked noise, and his cock pulses against me again.
He’s close. Right on the verge of coming.
I should let him finish like this. I should chalk it up to a stupid mistake, a moment of weakness, and walk away with some part of the emotional barrier between us still intact. But the wild, primal part of me that nearly went to him when he held out his glistening hand to me on that moonlit night—she can’t stand the thought of that.
Reaching down between us, I fist his cock and use my thighs to lift myself up a little as I notch his broad crown at my entrance.
Malix stiffens for just a second, his breath stuttering just like mine.
Then he drives his hips forward and pulls me down, impaling me in one hard thrust.
I fall apart on his cock, pleasure spreading through me as the aching feeling of emptiness is replaced with nothing but Malix. The fresh air and sunshine scent of him surrounds me, mingling with the scent of water and pine, and he shouts raggedly as the first hot jet of his release spurts into me.
I can feel him coming, and my walls clench around him like a vise, my body writhing in his arms.
The intense burst of the orgasm fades, but he doesn’t stop fucking me. He’s still hard, and now that he’s inside me, neither one of us is teasing the other. Neither one of us is holding back. It’s like we know we’ll never get a repeat of this stolen, illicit moment, so we’re throwing ourselves into it headfirst.
The rough surface of the rock scrapes at my back and digs into skin as he drives into me hard and fast, but the pain feels good. It’s as if I need it as a counterpoint to the overwhelming pleasure surging through me.
I hang on to Malix, sliding my fingers through his tightly curled black hair as I come again.
He doesn’t slow his pace at all, although I can feel how tightly I’m gripping him. His thrusts become short and choppy as he pounds into me, and when he spills inside me again, the feel of it sends me over the edge one more time.
I’m shaking, and I’m stuffed so full of his cum that it’s sliding down my legs already, slick and wet as it cools in the night air.
Malix’s hold on my hips is so tight that I imagine for a second that he’ll need a crowbar to loosen it. He draws in several deep breaths and releases them, and his nose nuzzles my cheek. His lips ghost over mine, not quite touching them as we breathe together. Then he pulls out and sets me back on my feet.
The chill of the water that laps around my calves makes my muscles tighten, and I lean back against the boulder as I make sure my legs can really support me. Malix takes a small step back, looking at me with an expression he’s never worn before—one I can’t quite read.
“Fate’s a fucking bitch,” he murmurs quietly.
