Chapter Thirty-two
Fucking Malakai Farrow is an out of body experience.
No that isn’t right. I feel everything, every touch, every caress, every ounce of his possession.
“Take it off,” He growls, his skin glistening with sweat, his eyes a little feral, hands balled up into tight fists. “Strip for me, Olivia. Right fucking now.”
My hands tremble as I bring them to the buttons on my blouse, popping open each one. But I’m fumbling, my fingers not working the way they should. My pussy throbs, sore with how hard he fucked me against his desk but deliciously clenching, begging for more. Fuck, I need more. More of this unhinged, uncontrolled side of him.
“Too long,” he growls as he snatches forward, hooks his fingers into the blouse and rips down. The buttons pop off, scattering across the room, leaving the blouse open and half tucked into my pencil skirt.
“That was a Valentino,” I try to add bite to my words, but it comes out more like a breath.
“I’ll buy you another one,” His hands turn softer as he pulls out the rest of the blouse from the skirt, “Turn around.”
Slowly, I turn, giving him my back and then his fingers are at the zipper on the back of the skirt, gently tugging it down. Without the tightness around my waist, the skirt slips off my hips, pooling at my feet.
He helps me turn and offers his hand to help me step out of it. Now I’m just left in a torn blouse, a bra and my heels.
“Look at you,” He runs his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes devouring me, “Lose the blouse and the bra,” He orders, “Keep the heels.”
Swallowing, I obey, slipping the blouse off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, joining my skirt and then I unhook my bra, exposing me entirely.
“So, you can be a good girl,” He cocks his head, taking me in like I’m something to be bought. He reaches forward, running a finger from the center of my clavicle all the way down, over my sternum, down toward my naval and then lower. His finger stops at the apex of my pussy. “Who does this belong to?”
“Me.” I hiss.
His brow quirks and a smirk pulls on the edge of his mouth, “Does it now?”
“Yes.”
“Is that not my come dripping down your thighs, kitten?” To prove his point, he leans down slightly, and his finger runs up my inner thigh, gathering the sticky come to smear it over my skin. “Is it not me leaking from you right now?”
“If I let every man have a little bit of me every time they fucked me, what would be left for me?” My own smile lifts my mouth, a challenge that he bites at so fucking easily.
“No fucking man matters now, Olivia. It does not matter who has been between these legs anymore, it’s just fucking me. I own this cunt, this body. I own your fucking soul, Olivia.”
“For now,” I taunt.
His hand snatches out so suddenly, I gasp, startled, and his fingers wrap around my throat, pressing in hard but not hard enough to choke me. Fuck, if only he’d choke me.
I don’t want soft with him. Soft means feelings, hard means hate. It doesn’t matter that it makes no sense. It’s how I’m dealing with this. I want him, have wanted him, and I am only allowing it with these very clear boundary lines I’m putting in place. Hard, fast and rough.
“That all you got, Malakai?” I taunt, my voice only a little stifled by his hand, “I always knew you were a fake. You put on a big show but you’re weak. Fucking weak, Malakai.”
His fingers tighten and I grin at him.
“Show me the monster,” I challenge, “Show me why I should be afraid of you.”
“Olivia,” He warns.
I laugh, balancing in my heels, furious at myself, furious at him, “Are you scared, Malakai?” I taunt, “Scared you’ve met your match?”
Suddenly he’s pushing me back, my feet barely able to keep up with his long, determined strides until my spine slams against the wall hard enough the painting in the frame beside my head rattles.
“Don’t fucking push me, kitten,” He warns.
“What will you do!?”
Something comes over him, something dark and slightly terrifying. A thrill works through me as the hand around my throat tightens, my own hands flying up to wrap around his wrist.
His knee shoves between my thighs, forcing them apart and my precarious balance becomes even more wobbly with the move.
“You won’t like me if I do what I want to do to you, Olivia.”
“I don’t like you now,” I manage to get out.
He laughs but it’s not filled with amusement, this dark laugh is filled with violent promises.
“Turn around.” He suddenly releases my throat and I lurch forward, not expecting the freedom. He doesn’t catch me.
He stares at me, unforgiving as he waits and I turn, chest heaving, heart pounding until I’m facing the wall.
“Put your hands on the wall.”
I reach out my arms, placing my palms flat against the wall, having to bend slightly to be able to do so.
“Good girl,” He praises, “Now step back, bend over for me, kitten.”
I walk my hands down the wall as I bend, adjusting my feet at the same time. I’m bent over, vulnerable, and I’ve never felt more alive.
There’s a quick, hard slap against my ass cheek that makes me gasp and jerk up but his hand flies to the back of my neck, forcing me back into place. “Stay fucking still, Olivia.”
My ass stings from his slap and my pussy throbs, something hot and heavy coiling tight inside of me. I wanted another one.
And he delivers.
His slap resonates through the room, joining the crackle of the fire as the skin on my ass cheek burns just as hot.
A groan slips from my lips, turning to a moan as his long, skilled fingers massage over the sting.
“I always knew this pretty ass would look good with my handprint,” He muses, a single finger tracing the outline of his fingers and palm.
“More,” I whisper, the plea slipping from my lips.
“More?” He chuckles, “What a dirty little slut you can be, Olivia,” his hand squeezes punishingly against my ass cheek, “You want me to treat you like my whore, kitten?”
“Just more, please,” I hear my voice crack, desperate to ease this ache inside of me.
His slap stings against my other ass cheek and then I feel the head of him pressing against the entrance of me.
“More, kitten?” He asks, “I’ll give you fucking more.”
His cock penetrates me so suddenly I can’t help but cry out. He fills me so abruptly my body has no time to adjust or relax into him. The burn of the stretch leaves me screaming, calling out as his cock thrusts in and out of me, not giving an ounce of mercy. He impales me on him from behind, his hand coming down onto the back of my neck to hold me in place as he uses me.
His fingertips bite into me as he thrusts, pushing me further against the wall until I have to bend my arms and start to fight back. He fucks me like he hates me, just how I want it. So fucking hard I hear the slap of our skin, feel my pussy stretching and yielding to him.
“Just like that,” I moan, pushing back against him.
And then his palm slaps against my ass cheek again, the pain a sudden burst that shoots heat through me, making me extra wet, extra needy.
“Yes!” I hiss, my skin is stinging, my pussy soaked, and he just fucks me harder, pounds into me relentlessly. It’s brutal and messy, my inner thighs soaked, the arches of my feet aching. Palms caress my ass cheek before he slides his hand toward my crack, his thumb running down the center of me there, before his thumb presses into me.
“Has anyone had you here, kitten?” He grits.
I don’t have a chance to answer, not when he suddenly spits on me, using it as lube to apply more pressure, as if to enter but he just lingers there, the threat of it enough to make my pussy start to twitch.
He chuckles, “They haven’t but you want it, don’t you?”
The tip of his thumb enters me, the intrusion foreign but not entirely unwelcome.
“You want it that much you’re ready to come all over my cock for it.”
In he goes further and that does it. I detonate, the scream is ripped from my throat as he thrusts through it, his thumb mimicking his cock as he fucks me in both holes. “Fuck me, Olivia, you’re so fucking tight.”
My orgasm settles but he’s not close to being finished, not when he’s still fucking me violently and his thumb is still inside my ass. My knees are shaking, my spine aching with the position but like fuck will I give up first. He can fuck me half to death and I still won’t let him win.
“Such a pretty little brat,” His tongue suddenly licks up my spine, making me shiver, fingers digging into my hips. His thrusts start to turn jerky, and I lift slightly, looking over my shoulder. His face is turned toward the ceiling, muscles in his neck pulled taut.
“Goddamn,” he moans, the bruising hold on me only tightening more and then he’s spilling himself into me, filling me up.
I cry out at the feel of him, dropping my head when he pulls out, leaving me wobbly and unbalanced.
But then his arms are suddenly around me, holding me up while he sinks onto the floor, pulling me into his lap to cradle me against him. I’m sticky, sweaty, I can feel him leaking out of me, but he just holds me, stroking back my wild hair, holding me as I continue to tremble.
“Are you alright?” he whispers.
“Yes,” my voice is hoarse, throat tight and raw.
“Can you stand?”
I nod, and start to climb off him, wincing as I feel more of him slip out of me and down my thighs, but he doesn’t seem to care, not when he then lifts me. I don’t have the energy to fight him on it and then he’s walking us out of the drawing room and through the halls of his house.
I momentarily panic since we’re both naked, but no one comes out and we make it up to the bedroom without incident.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper. This side of him is in clear contrast to the man that just fucked me in his office.
“Shh,” He says as he sits me on the vanity and reaches for the heels on my feet.
He takes them off gently, throwing them behind him, and then he’s back, hands on my inner thighs, pushing my legs apart.
His eyes drop to my pussy and his thumb gently strokes over the sensitive flesh of me, “Look at you,” he muses as I whimper at the sensitivity, “All swollen and full of me.”
I hold my breath, watching his face, at the rapt attention he is placing on me, watching his own fingers as they part my lips and run through the come soaking me.
His eyes finally flick up to my face as he brings his hand away and still watching me, he leans across and switches on the shower.
“I’m not done with you, kitten,” He warns in a low voice, “Not fucking done at all.”