Chapter 22 Willow
WILLOW
I’m floating on a high of orgasmic bliss, my entire body looser and more relaxed than it’s been in a long time.
And all I want is to keep chasing this high.
All I want is exactly what I asked Malice for. More.
My hands roam over his back, feeling the muscles flex under his clothes and under his skin. I’ve gotten glimpses of him—and all the guys, really—without their shirts in the time since we moved into the penthouse, but not like this. I haven’t touched them or kissed them the way I’ve wanted to.
Malice’s hands skate up my sides, making me shiver. His calloused palms feel good everywhere, and when they come up to cover my breasts, I arch against him, pressing myself harder into his hands.
“Fuck,” he grates out against my mouth. “Solnyshka, you—”
He breaks off suddenly, letting go of my breasts and leaning back so that he can take me in. His eyes drink in the sight of me, and I can feel myself blushing. Even now, there’s something about the way he looks at me that always makes me feel just a little shy.
But in a good way.
In a way that makes me desperate for him to keep going.
“You really want more?” he asks, narrowing his eyes a little.
“Yes.” I nod emphatically.
Without taking his gaze off me, he reaches over to retrieve the book from where he dropped it. He holds it out to me, his inked forearms rippling as he presses it into my hands.
“Your turn then,” he says. “You read this time. Pick any scene you like. But if you stop, I stop.”
I’m about to ask him what he means, but before I can, he drops his head and presses a light kiss to my nipple. I hiss out a breath, almost dropping the book, and he immediately draws back a couple inches, going still.
Fuck, that’s what he means. He means he won’t touch me unless I’m reading.
My hands tremble as I skim the pages quickly, searching for another good scene to read.
I find one where the hero takes the heroine out onto a private balcony, then bends her over the railing high above the city and fucks her.
Starting from the beginning of the scene, I read out loud in a shaky voice.
It’s harder than I thought it would be. I have no idea how Malice managed to read coherently when he was doing this.
I keep losing my place as he presses his lips to my skin again, working his way down in a winding path.
He hesitates when he gets to the spot where my pants hang open, and the sound of him dragging in a long breath through his nose makes goosebumps pop out on my skin.
I know he said he loves the way I smell when I’m turned on, and there’s something filthy in the best way about the way he’s inhaling me.
“Keep going,” he orders, and I realize I’ve gone silent.
“S-sorry.”
Clearing my throat, I dive back in… and so does Malice. He tugs my pants down, along with my panties, sliding them down my legs and discarding them somewhere.
My breath comes harder, faster, every nerve in my body quivering on a knife’s edge of need. It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve done this with him, and every part of me is anticipating it.
The words on the page seem to blur as his hands grip my thighs, and his tongue finds my clit a second later. It’s not as forceful as the way he usually eats me out, but it’s been so long and I’m already so sensitive that it hits me like a ton of bricks anyway.
I almost stop reading but force myself to keep going. In the book, he’s got her bent over, her hands placed just where he wants them as he shoves her dress up, and my thighs clench as I describe it in a halting voice.
Malice swipes his tongue over me in long, languid licks, savoring the arousal that’s gathered there.
“You taste so goddamned good,” he groans when he comes up for air. “Missed this. Missed having you like this.”
“Me—me too,” I manage to stammer out.
“The book, Solnyshka. Keep reading.”
He goes back to it as I rasp out words that barely make sense to me anymore.
All of my brain cells are focused on how good his tongue feels as it rolls over my clit.
If it wasn’t for his big hands holding me down, I’d be grinding all over his face, bucking and trying to get more of that delicious, slippery friction.
“‘He gripped her cheeks, pulling them apart and baring everything to him,’” I read, my throat dry. “Oh god, Malice, please…”
“Is that part of the book?” he demands, lifting his head so that the pressure of his tongue disappears.
“No, but—”
“Then keep reading.”
I can feel the orgasm building, just out of reach, and I lick my lips and find my place again. I describe the way he drives into her on the balcony, making her back arch as he wraps a hand around her hair.
“‘She could feel him…’” I whimper. “Oh fuck. ‘She could feel him—’”
I can’t get the words out any longer, and every time I stop, Malice does too. He teases me like that, pulling away each time my words break off, until finally I blurt out, “‘She could feel him everywhere.’”
“Good girl,” he growls.
His tongue moves faster, relentless, hot, and wet, and I’m helpless to do anything but fall apart for him. I shudder through it, practically screaming the words from the book, so desperate to make sure he doesn’t stop that I keep reading even after my orgasm crests and finally starts to recede.
I’m basically just babbling now, and Malice chuckles as he draws back, wiping his hand over his mouth.
“That was pretty good,” he tells me. “Maybe we’ll try it again sometime. I like hearing you read dirty things, Solnyshka. Filthy words always sound better coming from your sweet lips.”
He plucks the book from my hands and sets it on the coffee table. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek.
When he starts to draw away, my eyes open wide.
“Wait,” I ask. “Is that it?”
“That’s enough.”
“But you didn’t come yet.”
He chuckles, wincing a little as he reaches down to squeeze his dick. “But you did. Twice. So that’s enough.”
No. No, this is all wrong.
Even though he ate me out until I practically soaked his chin, he’s not kissing me or touching me the way he usually would.
Malice Voronin is a man who takes what he wants, and even when it was my very first time, he didn’t hold back.
He fucked me like I was his own personal whore…
and I want that right now. I want everything he can give me.
I don’t want him to handle me like I’m fragile. Like I’m breakable.
I don’t want to feel breakable. I want to feel strong and powerful like I used to when he fucked me.
“No,” I say, an edge of frustration creeping into my voice. “I don’t want you to handle me gently like this. You once told me that you don’t fuck gentle. That you don’t do gentle. I want that. I want you to fuck me the way you used to.”
“Willow—”
“Please, Malice. You don’t have to hold back. Please. Fuck me the way you did when you trusted that I could take it.”
Malice’s nostrils flare wide, his cheek muscles jumping as he clenches his jaw.
He’s breathing hard, and his fingers grip my arm tightly.
He seems to realize what he’s doing, and he jerks his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist instead.
I can almost see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting with himself.
His body clearly wants one thing, but he’s trying to convince himself of something else.
He’s holding himself back, restraining himself, almost like a leashed beast. Like one move could snap his self-imposed chains and let his most primal desires take over.
I lick my lips, my chest heaving as I hold his gaze.
“Please, Malice,” I whisper again. “I know you love me. I feel it every day. But I don’t need you to fuck me like you love me. I just need you to fuck me like you need me. Like you’ll die if you don’t get inside me. Like nothing else exists right now except you and me.”
I can see the effect my words have on him, his entire body shuddering as his fists tighten even more, turning his knuckles white.
“Pick a word,” he says after a long moment, his voice gruff and strained.
“What?”
“A word,” he bites out. “That’ll let me know if you need me to stop.”
Oh. I blink a few times, thinking it over. A thrill goes through me as I realize that this means he’s going to give me what I want—just with a simple precaution. And a safe word is a good idea. As much as I want this now, it will give me an escape if things change for me later.
It gives me the power, and that’s exactly what I need right now.
“Pineapple,” I say finally, not even sure where that word came from. It just popped into my head, and it’s not like it’s something I’d accidentally say while having sex, so it works.
Malice nods. “Pineapple. You have to use it. If you want me to stop, you have to use the word.”
“Okay.”
“Promise me.” His eyes sear into me, full of heat and intention, and I swallow hard, nodding.
“I promise. I’ll use it.”
There’s something so sweet in the gesture. It’s such a Malice thing, wanting to show he cares in his own way, even as he’s planning to let himself go, to be as rough with me as he wants.
But that’s what we both want right now, and my heart races as I watch his face.
It’s like I’m finally seeing the last of his control snap right in front of me.
There’s no more holding back, and when he reaches for me this time, he yanks me hard against his body.
I gasp, going eagerly, melting against him as he kisses me.
This time, it isn’t a brush of his lips or a tease.
This is all rabid heat and hunger. This is Malice kissing me like he wants to devour me.
Like he’s about to consume me the way a wildfire consumes a forest, transforming me entirely with the force of his desire.
His teeth snag my lower lip, biting down hard, and I taste the faint hint of blood between us as I gasp into his mouth.
“I would give you anything,” he mutters. “There’s not a single thing you could ask me for that I would deny you, Solnyshka.”