AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Malcolm
I show up at Nala’s door with a clutch of exotic blooms that reminded me of her—unique, bright, delicate—and feel like the world’s biggest tool.
This was such a bad idea. Fucking Brooks—always the romantic. I wanted to do something for Nala to let her know I meant what I said the other night: it’s always been her. However backward or out of order, there are certain things we deserve, certain things she deserves, like a first date. Which means, I’m going to have to put in some work.
I don’t usually work, mostly because I don’t usually do relationships, not since I learned a long time ago that it doesn’t matter how much I do for someone, they’re still going to leave me without a backward glance in the end.
Except…this is Nala, and I’ve also learned that no matter how much I tried to distance myself in the past, my soul is drawn to hers, my heart connected to hers, my life in desperate need ofhers. Which is why I called Brooks. He would kill me for saying it, but he’s a lover. Romance is his thing, taking care of people is his thing…and since I want to take care of Nala, to show her that I meant it when I said this is more, that she is everything, I needed advice.
Standing on her small and very public porch, the sounds of people laughing and slamming doors from somewhere else in the complex, I take a deep breath, remind myself that I am not a pussy—no matter how much the fucking flowers in my hand beg to differ—and I knock on Nala and Jordan’s apartment door.
I’m tugging at the collar of my shirt, a short-sleeved Volcom Chambray button-down I’ve paired with black pants, one of the only pairs that fit over my walking cast. My hair’s still longer than normal, but I can’t even fathom cutting it when I think of how often Nala anchors her fingers in it and uses it to guide my mouth to hers…and other places.
That’s the image I’m working with when she opens the door, and just the sight of her has me on the edge, ready to explode. She smiles, her face lighting up when she reaches for the flowers. I don’t hear what she says because she’s wearing one of her thin white dresses she owns; this one almost like a loose-fitting T-shirt in a silky material. She’s paired it with some sort of brown boot that slouches around her ankle, held up with a buckle. Her hair is in a fancy braid over her shoulder.
“Mal?” My eyes travel back up the length of her, stopping only when they meet hers. The smile she gives me is knowing, and a little naughty. The image of her with her fingers in my hair, that dress hiked up around her thighs with nothing underneath while I take her is now front and center, and the newest reason for the sizeable hard on I’m rocking. “I’m going to put these in water, okay?”
She turns, and sweet fucking Jesus, there is no material in the back of her dress.
What looks like a T-shirt is actually only half a T-shirt, the material gaping open to reveal smooth, golden skin and pale tan lines until it gathers just below her waist at the small of her back. How the dress stays on her shoulders is a mystery…as is what she has on under it, because from this angle, it looks like the only thing she’s wearing with this dress other than boots is a rope necklace that hangs down her bare back in a delicate gold flash.
Romance be damned, I’m inside in two steps, behind her with my hands at her waist in five. She startles a little, and it turns to a moan when I use my tongue and trace a line from the delicate curve of her shoulder all the way down her spine to where her dress starts again, adding sucks and nips with my lips and teeth. Hands against the counter, Nala gasps a shocked breath, and I whip her around to face me, groaning when her hands go to my hair and start yanking it.
The image from earlier still fresh, I lift her and deposit her on the counter, stepping between her legs and wrapping my arms around her again. The bare skin of her back pebbles when I trail my fingers down it, my lips assaulting her neck and ear.
“We’re supposed to go on a date,” I grit out, hands already traveling down her hips, pausing when they get to the skin of her thighs.
“It’s only eight o’clock,” she pants, her hands covering mine to guide them on their journey back up her legs, underneath her dress to the barely-there panties beneath. Sweet fucking bliss. “Most college kids don’t go out until at least ten. That leaves us two hours.”
My fingers find her, already damp and pulsing, and I hiss out a breath when she shifts a little, the movement dragging the material of her dress even farther up.
“Hold onto me,” I demand, reaching my hands underneath her to drag the material of her panties down. I follow them, hitting my knees so I’m eye level with Nala, spread on the counter like she was in my fantasies only minutes ago, dress rucked up, skin flushed pink in pleasure and arousal.
“Fuck, you kill me. Every time I taste you, every time I touch you, every time I fucking see you, I want more.” I lean in and give her one long lap with my tongue, turned on as hell when her fingers yank at my hair like reins, guiding me to the rhythm she wants. I dig my fingers into her hips, dragging her until she’s resting on the edge of the counter, swinging her legs over my shoulders. “I want it all, Nala.Now.”
And then I use my tongue, my teeth, my lips while my hands hold her hips, devouring her until she comes on a writhing moan. I’m standing, a condom on, poised to slam into her before she’s even finished trembling. One hand on my cock, the other wrapping around her braid, I tilt her head back and take her mouth the way I just took her, hard, nearly savage, and then I thrust into her, not stopping until I’m all the way inside, filling her like my life depends on it.
Right now, it does.
The groan is ripped from me, a jolt of pleasure so great zapping up my spine I have to close my eyes and grit my teeth to keep from coming right now. “Nala,” I say, and again. “Jesus, Nala, every time. Every time.”
“Yes,” she breathes, and just the sound of it spurs me harder. “Yes, Malcolm. Fuck me, have me, love me.Yes.”
Her words are breathless, her skin is sheened with sweat, but her eyes are steady and full of desire when I open mine. “Yes,” she says again. That’s all it takes. I release her braid, both hands yanking on her hips while I pound into her, over and over and over. I slam in and out, angling her hips up until we’re both groaning, both panting, coming at the same time.
I shout her name, and then I bury my face in her neck, amazed, awed, and terrified as fuck that I already want her again.
+ + +
We make it to dinner, but it’s way later than ten o’clock.
After we finally got off the kitchen counter, we needed a shower. Nala in the water has always been a sight. Nala naked in the water with soap suds pouring over her, slipping down her body and between her legs…it was too much for me to resist. She would have settled for cereal with milk, or orange juice, as they had run out of milk—and Nala is, and always has been, a use-what’s-available kind of girl, but I was determined to take her out.
She’s wearing the white dress again, only because I begged, and her hair is damp and pulled over her shoulder in another loose braid she did while standing in panties and nothing else—without looking in the mirror. Also a reason we’re eating later than ten o’clock.
She’s not wearing makeup—I know because I watched her get ready almost as quickly as I did, and I was amazed when she turned and I saw that she looked exactly as she had when she’d opened the door to me a couple hours ago.
