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“Mmm. Yeah. Feel me, baby.” I grabbed a meaty handful of his ass, squeezed.
“I do. I do. Oh, Malik.” His features softened, still holding my gaze like I’d ordered, but the affection and need in his eyes were almost too much for me. “I…”
“Me too.” I didn’t need his words because everything was written across his face. And I felt it, a connection, a joining unlike anything I’d ever experienced, caring so much for him, I hurt. He’d taken the spanking, but I ached right along with him, was marked by him, transformed by the play and pain both. The experience had flayed me open, left my heart there for his taking, as if I’d had any choice before. “Mine. You’re mine.”
And I was his, fully owned by his every movement, each moan and touch. I found his mouth for another kiss, deep and true. He sucked on my tongue like he was dying for it, riding me hard, letting me guide his motions. His dick was trapped between us, painting my abs with sticky kisses. The position wasn’t ideal for jacking him, and when I tried to shift his weight to do so, he leaned more into me.
“Keep doing what you’re doing. Love your hands on my ass. Fuck. Just remembering the spanking has me so hard again.”
“Yeah?” I held his gaze, asking a question with my eyes. “Still feeling naughty?”
“Yes.” He smiled so widely that his rarely-seen dimples made an appearance. “Not like earlier hurt.”
Smack. Not as hard as before, but forceful enough that I felt his flinch, felt him clench around my dick, and damn near came from how he jumped.
“More.” His head fell back, exposing his throat for me to lick. I loved how the little stray hairs and his Adam’s apple teased my tongue. And I gave him what he wanted, another two spanks in rapid succession. He ground against me, cock ready to bore a hole in my belly. He was that damn hard. “More. Damn. I’m…”
He rose more onto his knees, almost off my cock, giving me real estate for one more well-aimed swat, and then, miraculously, he was coming again, hands-free, bucking against me, hot jets of come painting both our stomachs.
“You too. You too,” he chanted, grinding and moving against me, ass flexing in a clear bid to get me off, not that I needed the encouragement. I took a firm hold of his hips, drinking in his groan, that little edge of pain that reminded us of what he’d taken, what he’d given. Thrusting in rapid succession, my orgasm seemed to hover for an eternity, but in reality, I was mere seconds behind him, coming and coming.
My eyes and throat burned, but it wasn’t until he kissed my cheek, the sweetest swipe of his lips ever, that my emotions truly boiled over. Forget being afraid to have any sort of future talk with Avery. Now I couldn’t imagine one without him in it.
“Avery…”
“Shush.” He put a finger on my lips. “No thinking, remember? Sex coma time.”
“We should—”
“We should shower. Together this time. And then your meds and early to bed, and you should hold…” His voice started playful but ended on a wobble that damn near broke my heart. His eyes were soft, mouth pursed. “No thinking? Please?”
“We can do that.” We’d need to talk soon enough, no avoiding it, but no way could I deny his vulnerable expression a damn thing. No, I’d hold him and hold him, and everything else could come later.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Avery
Malik wanted to talk. I wanted to do everything other than talk. I’d used multiple blowjobs, mutual showers, security business, meal breaks, must-see TV, and every other excuse I could think of until we were here. It was the last day of filming, and I could practically see the we-need-to-talk frustration rolling off Malik as he approached me on the sidewalk between the diner and the start of the main-street buildings.
I waved, but it felt like I was about to be shoved onto a raft and let loose in an ocean where what came next was somewhere over the horizon. There were zero guarantees the treacherous waters would let me find out or that what-comes-next island would be welcoming. We could talk and make everything way worse. Or talk and make it better, but something else could crop up that made everything hurt more. So, no, I didn’t want to talk because my raft of denial and delay was still preferable to having to swim.
“Hey, you get the locks checked?” he asked.
“Yep. The last scene just finished filming, and dinner is apparently part of the wrap party, so I was heading back to get changed.” Not that I’d brought much party wear, but a shower couldn’t hurt. Also, if said shower got Malik distracted again, I was all for it, so I added a private smile just for him.
