8. malakai #4
She didn’t ease up. Every time I tried to deepen the kiss, she bit or scraped or shoved her tongue against mine, forcing me to take as much as I gave.
I got both hands under her thighs and hauled her up; she locked her legs around my waist without being asked, ankles crossed tight at the small of my back so she could roll her hips and drag the seam of her panties along the hard length of me.
The friction was filthy. I could already feel how wet she was through the thin fabric.
“Fuck—”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
I got my belt open one-handed, the buckle clattering against the door.
She didn’t wait for me to finish. Her fingers shoved my trousers and underwear down just far enough for my cock to spring free, heavy and already slick at the tip.
The metal barbell of the piercing caught for a second against her knuckles.
She didn’t stroke. She just wrapped her fist around me, squeezed once—hard enough to border on pain—and looked up with that same bright, mean interest she’d had in the hallway.
“That’s new,” she said, almost thoughtful.
“You going to keep inspecting it or put it in you?”
She yanked her panties to the side with two fingers and guided the head of my cock through the slick heat of her once, twice, coating the piercing before she dropped her weight as I thrust up. I sank into her in one long, rough stroke that forced a punched-out sound from both of us.
Christ, she was tight, , already clenching around me like she was trying to pull me deeper.
I bottomed out and stayed there for a second just to feel the way her walls fluttered around the piercing, then dragged almost all the way out and drove back in harder.
The door rattled. Her nails scored fresh lines down the back of my neck and under the collar of my sweater, stinging bright.
I fucked her like that—short, brutal strokes that kept her pinned and forced every wet sound out into the quiet classroom.
She met every single one, rolling her hips down to take me deeper, using the door and my body like both were hers to control.
When I tried to set a steadier rhythm she clenched deliberately around me, mean and perfect, and I laughed against her throat.
“Look at you,” I got out, voice rough. “Came here to put a knife in a man’s throat and now you’re soaking my cock instead. That the whole plan, Matthews?”
“Shut. The fuck. Up.”
She dug her nails in harder. I answered by snapping my hips up sharper, grinding the barbell against the front wall of her on every inward thrust. The metal dragged. She made a low, broken sound that went straight to my spine.
“You feel better than convenient,” I told her, still talking because I couldn’t stop. “Way better. Nichlas must’ve been fucking tragic if this is what he walked away from.”
“Kai—”
“There it is.” I kept the pace punishing, one hand braced beside her head so I could watch her face, the other gripping her thigh hard enough to leave fingerprints. “Say it again. I like how it sounds when you’re trying not to like me.”
She didn’t give me the name again. She dragged my mouth back to hers and bit down on my already split lip until more blood welled between us.
I fucked her through it, faster now, the wet slap of skin and the creak of the door the only soundtrack.
Her hand shoved under my sweater, nails raking across the ink on my chest and the hard muscle underneath.
Every scrape made my cock kick inside her.
I could feel how close she was in the way her thighs started shaking, the way her breathing turned short and vicious against my mouth.
I didn’t ease off. I kept driving into her exactly the way she was taking it—hard, deep, relentless—talking the whole time because the way she got wetter and meaner the more I needled her was addictive.
“Come on. You’re already there. I can feel it. Take it. Take whatever the fuck you want.”
She did. Her head dropped back against the door, a low, guttural sound tearing out of her throat as she came hard around me—tight, pulsing, almost painful in how good it felt.
Her walls clamped down and milked the piercing with every ripple.
The second those contractions hit I lost the last of my restraint.
I slammed into her three more times, buried as deep as I could get, and came with a rough groan, cock throbbing as I spilled inside her in heavy pulses while she was still fluttering and clenching around me.
I stayed buried to the hilt, holding her up against the door, both of us breathing hard. Come was already starting to slip out around my cock every time either of us shifted.
Echo stilled against the wall, her fingers curled into the back of my shirt, both of us breathing harder than we should have been.
There were fresh scratches burning across my neck and shoulders, and when I looked down at her, she had that same sharp expression she had worn in the hallway when I first caught her.
Only now there was something else under it.
She was watching me too. And all I could think about was how badly I wanted to see what she did next.
I brushed my thumb over the corner of her mouth and grinned when she immediately looked annoyed by the gesture. “Oh, you’re perfect. Let’s go meet the King.”