Chapter 21 Malice
MALICE
Fucking hell.
One second, I’m about to ask Willow if she wants to order dinner in tonight, and the next, she’s launching herself at me and kissing me hard.
The intensity of it catches me off-guard, but it’s fucking instinct at this point. My arms go around her, and my mouth responds ravenously, even as my brain scrambles to catch up to whatever the hell is going on.
Right now, my body is more concerned with the feeling of her against me and the way her mouth moves with mine. Heat surges through me, and I feel that hunger that I always feel for her, urging me to kiss her harder and deeper.
But then my brain does catch up, and I can feel that this isn’t the same kind of desperation that she usually kisses me with.
Or that she used to before Troy took her and broke her down.
This feels more like she’s trying to force herself into it, trying to ignore how much she must still be struggling with shit like this.
As much as I want her—and I really fucking do—I know this kind of thing can’t be rushed. And I don’t want to risk pushing her too far or doing something she’s gonna regret later.
So I pull away from her, breaking the kiss.
Willow’s large brown eyes are wild, and her face is flushed. She reaches for me again, breathing hard. She makes a needy sound, but it’s not the kind I like, so I put a hand on her chest, gently holding her back.
“Solnyshka,” I warn gruffly. “You don’t wanna do this.”
“Yes, I do.” She pushes against my hold on her. “I do want to.”
“Okay, maybe you do. But I don’t know if you’re ready for it, and I don’t wanna—”
“I am ready. I’m so fucking ready, and I’m so fucking tired of not being able to have this, Malice.” Her voice is thick with emotion, and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears.
My body roars with its own need, my cock rock hard already and pressing against the front of my jeans. It’s fucking begging to just take her and fuck her, to bend her over the kitchen island and claim her again right here and now.
I drag in a deep breath and then another, trying to clear my head enough to think past all of that.
“Willow.” I use her real name this time instead of my nickname for her, speaking more firmly this time.
She takes a deep breath of her own, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself. She shakes her head, making the tousled mane of her dyed brown hair shift around her shoulders.
“I’ve been reading those books you got me,” she whispers.
“And every time I read them, I think of the men in my life that I love… and I want to be with them. I think of all the things we used to do, and the way you used to make me feel. I get turned on reading those books, caught up in the sex scenes, and I’m so fucking sick of whatever fucked up shit is in my mind, holding me back from experiencing that myself. ”
I swallow hard, taking in how intense she sounds. She’s serious about this, and my head is flooded with images of her reading those books and getting wet and needy.
My cock is hard enough to punch through a wall right now, but I keep myself under control. This isn’t about me and my needs. This is about Willow. So as much as I do want to just bend her over and fuck her, raw and dirty like I used to, I have to take a different approach.
“Go get one of those books,” I tell her, my voice coming out husky with need. “One of your favorite ones that you’ve read.”
Willow blinks, her brows pinching together. But she doesn’t argue, turning and leaving the room.
She comes back a few minutes later with the book, and I look at it, then back up at her as I nod. “Good girl. Now go sit on the couch.”
She does, looking at me in confusion as I follow her into the living room.
“Did you touch yourself when you were reading these books?” I ask, my gaze locked on her as she settles on one end of the large leather couch.
She sucks in a breath. Just a tiny inhalation of air, but it’s enough to make desire pulse through me like a caged animal. Then she shakes her head, her cheeks going pink. “No.”
“Did you want to?”
“Yes,” she admits, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth.
I grit my teeth, reaching down to palm my cock just to keep myself from exploding. “Do it, then. Let me see it.”
Her eyebrows shoot upward. “You want me to read… now?”
I shake my head and hold out my hand for the book. “No. I’m gonna read to you, and I want you to get yourself off.”
Willow sucks in a surprised breath. I know she wasn’t expecting me to say that, but I recognize the look in her eyes as she nods slowly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. She likes this idea.
Her gaze tracks every movement as I take the book from her and then sit down on the other end of the couch. It’s big enough that there’s still some space between us, but we’re close enough that I can see the way her pupils have dilated slightly.
I take my time, kicking out my legs and leaning back a little before I open the book and flip through it.
I got Willow a mix of newer books and some that I remembered my mom reading back when my brothers and I were younger.
This is one of the newer ones, and I’m surprised to see that some of the scenes look hot as hell.
“You dirty little girl,” I murmur, glancing over at Willow as I hold the book open to a particularly sexy scene. “You’ve been reading these at night, picturing all of this shit happening to you, haven’t you? Do you like to imagine you’re her?”
“Yes.” She shifts on the cushion a little, turning to face me more fully. “Except I…”
“You what?”
“I imagine that the guy is you. Or Ransom, or Vic. Or all three of you.”
Fuck.
My cock just about punches a hole through my pants, and I make a noise low in my throat. Sharing Willow with my brothers is one of the hottest fucking things in the world. Seeing them make her fall apart is almost as good as doing it myself.
Memories of working together to get her off flood my mind, and I’m suddenly not so sure this was a good idea. I wanted to give Willow a chance to get off on her own terms, to take back some of the power that Troy stole from her… but it just might kill me before she even gets there.
“Good girl,” I rasp, gripping the book so tightly it’s a miracle I don’t end up tearing the pages. “Picture that while I read. Imagine it’s one of us touching you. Let yourself be as filthy as you want inside your own head, yeah? Because you’re in charge up there. It’s all up to you.”
Willow nods, her eyes darkening even more as she watches me.
“Read that scene,” she instructs, lifting her chin a little as she cranes her neck to read the words across the distance that separates us. “It’s… it’s a good one.”
“I can tell.”
And I can. Not just from the little snippet I just read, but because of the way I can already sense the change in her.
Her breathing is getting a little faster, the flush in her cheeks deepening.
She’s already turned on just thinking about it, and I can’t wait to see what happens when she listens to me read it out loud.
It takes a monumental effort to drag my attention away from Willow so that I can focus on the page, but I manage to do it, clearing my throat and starting to read.
In this scene, the hero and heroine are in a car, with a driver up front, separated from them by a partition. The hero tells the heroine to suck his cock, and the author of the book doesn’t shy away from describing every detail as she leans over and takes him into her mouth.
He’s not gentle with her, and as I describe the way he wraps a fist around her hair, thrusting into her mouth as he showers her with filthy praise, my voice turns to gravel.
After several passages, I glance up at Willow, watching as her lips part.
She’s staring at the book in my hands, but her gaze is unfocused, as if she’s lost inside her own mind—and I can’t help but wonder which one of me or my brothers she’s imagining doing that with.
I don’t even care which one of us it is, to be honest, as long as she’s losing herself in the fantasy of it.
I keep reading, my own cock throbbing as I describe how deep the heroine takes him, how even when her body is pushed to its limits, she works to take even more.
At first, Willow just listens, but after another minute or so, she lets herself move.
Her hands roam over her chest, cupping her tits, rolling her nipples through her shirt the way I know she likes.
“Mmm,” she hums, resting her head against the back of the couch and squeezing her thighs together.
She darts a glance over at me, and I keep my attention divided between the book and her, letting her know I’m watching every fucking thing she’s doing. That just seems to turn her on even more, and she hikes up the hem of her shirt, baring her bra-covered tits.
“You’re turned on,” I rasp. “Your nipples are so fucking hard. Play with them for me, Solnyshka. I won’t let myself touch them yet, so do it for me. Remind me how you like it.”
“Fuck, Malice,” she whimpers, and I grit my teeth, shaking my head.
“Nope. No fucking Malice,” I say, an almost teasing tone to my voice as I repeat her words back at her with a new meaning.
It’s not really funny enough to be a joke though, not with the tension filling the air between us and the uncomfortable pressure of my cock against my pants.
“If you want to come, you’ll have to take care of that yourself.
You’ll have to use your own fingers to toy with your nipples or fuck that sweet pussy.
” I smirk as I add, “You can pretend they’re mine if you like. I won’t mind.”
“Fine.”
Fire flares in her eyes and she sits up a little, grabbing her shirt and lifting her arms.
My mouth goes dry, and I forget to read at all for a few seconds as I watch her pull the shirt all the way off. Her bra goes next, and her delicate hands go back to her breasts, pinching and tugging roughly at her nipples.