Chapter 5 #2
"Like I told you, this won't be casual for me," he says, voice dropping lower. "If we do this, I'll expect your submission. Your trust. Your honesty."
"And what will I get in return?" I ask, even as my body responds to his words.
"Protection. Pleasure." His eyes hold mine. "And my complete attention."
The promise in those words makes my knees weak. "What about Sage?"
"That’s a real concern." His honesty is refreshing after Jason's endless manipulation. "This won't be easy. But I'm willing to navigate those complications if you are."
In answer, I rise on my toes and press my lips to his. Unlike last night's explosive passion, this kiss is deliberate, a conscious choice rather than an impulse. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his solid chest as he deepens the kiss.
When we part, both breathing heavily, he rests his forehead against mine. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes," I whisper. "I want this. I want you."
A growl rumbles through his chest. "Not here. Not like this."
"Where? When?" I'm almost embarrassed by the eagerness in my voice.
Malik checks his watch. "Our team has secured the cabin. We can return there now."
The drive back feels endless, tension building with every mile. Malik keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh, his thumb tracing small circles that send sparks through my body. We don't speak much, both aware of what awaits us.
When we finally reach the cabin, he circles the property once before parking, security instincts still engaged despite his obvious desire. Inside, he locks the door and activates the security system before turning to me.
The air crackles with anticipation. My hands shake slightly as I set down my purse.
"Come here," he says softly, and I move toward him on unsteady legs.
His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. "We need to talk before anything happens."
"We talked last night." My voice comes out breathier than intended.
"We talked about your past. Now we need to talk about right now." He guides me to the couch, sitting beside me but maintaining a few inches of space. "You've never done this before. That means we do this on your terms, at your pace."
"What if I want your terms? Your pace?" The boldness surprises even me.
His eyes darken. "Babygirl, my terms and pace aren't appropriate for someone's first time. We build up to that. Today is about you learning what your body likes, what feels good, what doesn't."
"Okay." I nod, trying to calm my racing heart. "So what happens?"
"Whatever you want to happen. We can kiss and explore. We can stop there if that's all you're ready for." His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. "We can go further if you want, but you need to know you can say stop at any point. No questions asked. No judgment. No disappointment."
"I want to go further." The admission comes easier than expected. "I want you to be my first, Malik. I'm sure about that."
He studies my face, searching for doubt or hesitation. "Why me? Why now?"
"Because you make me feel safe." I turn to face him fully. "Because I've spent twenty-six years waiting for someone who made me want this. Because when I go to bed at night, you’re who I see in my fantasies."
His breath catches. "Melody."
"I know I'm inexperienced," I continue, needing him to understand. "I know I might not be good at this or know what to do. But I trust you to teach me. To show me."
"There's no 'good' or 'bad' at sex," he says firmly. "There's just communication and honesty about what feels right." He brings my hand to his lips. "And for the record, your inexperience isn't a flaw. It's a gift you're choosing to share with me."
Tears prick my eyes at the reverence in his voice. "So you'll... we can...?"
"Yes." He stands, pulling me up with him. "But slow. Gentle. With lots of checking in. This is about your pleasure, your comfort, your discovery. Understood?"
"Understood."
He leads me to the bedroom, and I'm suddenly aware of every detail. The way afternoon light filters through the curtains. The scent of cedar and something distinctly Malik that clings to everything. The softness of the rug beneath my feet as he positions me near the bed.
"Tell me if anything feels wrong," he murmurs, hands settling on my waist. "Too fast, too much, uncomfortable. Anything."
I nod, words stuck in my throat as he slowly begins unbuttoning my blouse. His movements are deliberate, giving me time to object or retreat. When the fabric parts, his eyes travel over me with an intensity that makes heat pool low in my belly.
"Beautiful," he says simply, sliding the blouse off my shoulders.
My hands move to his shirt, fumbling with buttons until he covers them with his own.
"Let me," he says gently, removing his shirt in one fluid motion.
I've seen him shirtless before, but this feels different. More intimate. His chest is broad, muscled, marked with scars that tell stories he rarely shares. I reach out tentatively, fingers tracing the lines of old wounds.
"You can touch me," he encourages. "I want you to."
Emboldened, I explore the planes of his chest, feeling muscle shift beneath warm skin. When my fingers brush his nipples, he inhales sharply, and I jerk back.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, baby. That felt good." He captures my hand, bringing it back to his chest. "See? Your touch affects me too."
The knowledge sends a thrill through me. I'm not just a passive recipient. I have power here too.
"May I?" His hands hover at the waistband of my skirt.
"Yes."
He removes it carefully, leaving me in just my underwear. I fight the urge to cover myself, to hide the curves I've been taught to be ashamed of. But Malik's gaze holds nothing but appreciation and desire.
"Don't," he says when my hands start to move. "Don't hide from me. You're stunning, Melody. Every inch of you."
He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed, then kneels before me. The position reversal surprises me until his hands begin massaging my calves, working up to my thighs with firm, confident strokes.
"Relax," he murmurs. "We have all the time in the world."
His mouth follows his hands, pressing kisses to my knees, my inner thighs, getting closer to where I'm already aching for him. When he hooks his fingers into my underwear, he pauses.
"Can I taste you, baby? I want to make you feel good."
"I've never..." I trail off, embarrassed.
"I know." His voice is gentle. "That's why I'm asking. This is all new, and I want to introduce you to pleasure slowly. But only if you want it."
"I want it," I whisper. "I want everything with you."
He removes my underwear carefully, then spreads my thighs wider. The vulnerability of the position makes me tense.
"Breathe," he instructs. "And remember, you can stop me anytime."
The first touch of his tongue makes me gasp. He starts gentle, exploring, learning what makes me moan versus what makes me squirm. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he works me with increasing confidence.
"Oh God," I breathe, hands fisting in the sheets. "Malik."
"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Let yourself feel it. Don't think, just feel."
The pleasure builds in waves, cresting higher each time his tongue circles my clit. When he slides one finger inside me, slow and careful, I tense at the unfamiliar intrusion.
He stills immediately. "Too much?"
"No. Just... different. Keep going."
He does, adding a second finger gradually while his tongue continues its assault on my senses. The dual sensations overwhelm me, pushing me toward something I've only achieved alone in the dark. But this is different. Bigger. More intense.
"I think I'm going to..." I can't finish the sentence.
"Let go, baby. I've got you."
The orgasm crashes through me with unexpected force. I cry out his name, hips bucking against his mouth as pleasure radiates outward from my core. He works me through it, gentling his movements as I come down.
"Holy shit," I manage when I can breathe again.
He rises, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Good?"
"Understatement."
He sits beside me on the bed, gathering me against his chest. "We can stop here if you want. That was beautiful to watch."
"I don't want to stop." I look up at him, seeing my own desire reflected in his dark eyes. "I want all of it. All of you."
His jaw tightens. "You're sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
He stands, removing his jeans and boxers in one motion. My eyes widen at the sight of him, fully aroused, and nervous energy floods through me.
"That's going to fit?" The question escapes before I can stop it.
His laugh is warm, affectionate. "Yes, baby. Bodies are designed for this. But we'll go slow. I promise."
He retrieves a condom from the bedside drawer, rolling it on. Then he's back, positioning himself over me, his weight supported on his forearms.
"Look at me," he says, waiting until my eyes meet his. "We stop the second you want to. Say the word, and I stop. Understood?"
"Understood."
He kisses me deeply, tongues tangling as his hand slides between us to ensure I'm ready. When he positions himself at my entrance, he pauses.
"Deep breath," he instructs. "And relax as much as you can."
He pushes in slowly, and I feel my body stretch to accommodate him. It's not painful exactly, just intense. Full. Foreign.
"You okay?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding still.
"Yes. More. Please."
He sinks deeper, and this time there's a sharp pinch that makes me gasp. He freezes immediately.
"Melody?"
"It's okay," I manage. "Just... give me a second."
He holds perfectly still, pressing kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. "Breathe through it, baby. Your body needs time to adjust."
I focus on breathing, on relaxing muscles that want to clench. Slowly, the discomfort fades, replaced by a different kind of fullness. A rightness.
"Okay," I say. "You can move."