5. Malia
FIVE
Malia
My legs tremble beneath me, refusing to move from the spot where Walt pinned me. The rough texture of the inventory room wall bites into my back, a reminder of his power, his control.
His holy-hell-fire-that-was-hot!
His scent lingers—spice, sweat, raw masculinity—making my head spin. The thundering of my heart drowns out the distant hum of coffee grinders and customer chatter from the front of the shop.
The shelves of coffee beans blur before my eyes. Everything seems sharper, more vivid. The warmth between my thighs pulses in time with my racing pulse. My lips tingle, bruised from his savage kiss. A whimper escapes my throat as I press my thighs together, trying to ease the unfamiliar ache.
Dear God.
That wasn’t a kiss.
It was a claiming.
A promise.
A threat.
My fingers drift to my wrists, still burning from his grip. The ghost of his touch sends shivers racing down my spine. The air feels too thick, too heavy. Each breath carries the lingering taste of him—coffee and mint and pure, unleashed male.
Heat floods my cheeks as his words echo in my mind: “You’re mine.”
Simple. Direct.
Brooking no argument. The raw possession in his voice makes my knees weak all over again. Never in my life has anyone spoken to me like that, touched me like that, made me feel like—that.
The door handle rattles and I jump, my heart leaping into my throat, but it’s just the ventilation system kicking on. It sends a rush of cool air across my overheated skin. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but that only makes it worse. Behind my eyelids, I see Walt’s intense gaze, the flex of his muscles as he held me, the bulge of his…
Oh God.
It’s big.
The throb between my legs intensifies, and I squeeze my thighs tighter. What’s happening to me? How can one kiss, one touch, leave me so completely undone?
His words replay in an endless loop, each one stoking the fire in my belly higher. “I want to redden your ass with my hand.” Images flash through my head—me, bent over his knee, his palm coming down hard on my bare flesh. A rush of heat floods my core, my body clenching around nothing.
What’s wrong with me?
I should be outraged and offended.
Instead, I tremble with need, imagining the sting of his hand, the bite of his teeth, the stretch of his…
Stop it.
My brother’s coming. I need to focus on inventory. On anything but how Walt’s body felt pressed against mine, hard and demanding. The way his cock felt against my stomach, thick and ready. The promises he made about what he’d do to me, how he’d make me scream…
The pencil in my hand snaps, bringing me back to reality. Broken pieces scatter across the floor as I gather my scattered thoughts.
But it’s useless. Every movement reminds me of his touch, his taste, his overwhelming presence.
His last words haunt me: “This is happening. You and me. Tonight.”
Oh, my diary is going to have a steamy entry later tonight!
A shudder runs through me—fear? Anticipation? Both? I’ve never felt so out of control, so desperate for something I can barely name. The warmth between my legs has become an insistent throb, demanding attention I don’t know how to give.
The inventory sheet before me might as well be written in Sanskrit. The numbers swim before my eyes as memories assault me—his growled commands, his iron grip, the predatory gleam in his eyes when he promised to claim every inch of me.
What have I gotten myself into?
My phone vibrates against my hip, the buzz amplified by the metal shelving. A shiver runs through me—not from the vibration, but from the lingering sensation of Walt’s hands on my body. The screen blurs, then focuses. Malikai’s smiling face fills the display, grounding me in reality.
“Hey, Sissy.” His cultured voice fills my ear, familiar and safe. So different from Walt’s growled promises. “Still good for dinner?”
“Yeah, of course.” My voice sounds strange and breathy. Walt’s words echo: “I’m going to make you scream.” Heat floods my cheeks.
“Great, I’ve made reservations at Salvatore’s for seven.” Papers rustle in the background. “They’ve got that carbonara you love.”
The phone slides against my sweaty palm. Salvatore’s. Fancy. Which means I need to wear a dress. The thought triggers another memory of Walt: “I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around me.” My thighs clench involuntarily.
“You okay? You sound distracted.” Concern colors Malikai’s tone.
“Fine.” I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. Except for the throbbing between my legs and Walt’s promise: “I want to tie you up until you’re helpless.”
Images flood my mind—Walt’s hands pinning my wrists, his body pressing me against the wall. His breath hot on my neck. The hard length of him grinding against me.
“Everything’s fine.”
“If you say so.” A pause. “You’re being weird.”
“Just busy doing inventory.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, mixing with the lingering taste of Walt’s kiss. “Text me when you’re heading over?”
“Will do, Sissy.” The nickname makes me flinch. How can I sit across from my protective big brother tonight with Walt’s marks burning on my skin? “Love you.”
“Love you too.” I end the call, letting my head thunk back against the metal shelving. The cool metal does nothing to ease the fire under my skin.
I return to the job at hand with effort, but the inventory sheet mocks me. Numbers swim before my eyes. I’ve counted the same row of coffee beans six times, each attempt derailed by memories of Walt’s assault on my senses.
“I want to redden your ass with my hand.”
My inner muscles clench. The pencil creaks in my grip as I imagine being bent over his knee, completely at his mercy. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against my stomach, promising exactly what he’d do to me after.
“I want to hear you beg for release.”
Coffee beans scatter across the floor as I bump the shelf. The rich aroma fills the air, but all I can smell is him—spice, sweat, and raw male need. My nipples tighten against my bra, sending sparks of pleasure through my body.
“I want to own every inch of your body.”
The paper crumples under my white-knuckled grip. Every shift reminds me of how he felt pressed against me, hard and demanding. His strength, his control, the way he took what he wanted…
I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ease the persistent ache. What’s wrong with me? I’m supposed to be angry. He manhandled me, threatened me, promised to-to…
“I want to make you come so hard you see stars.”
A whimper escapes my throat. Heat pools between my legs, my body responding to memories of his touch, his taste, the dark promises in his voice.
“I want to push your boundaries.”
The inventory sheet floats to the floor, forgotten. My hands shake as I brace myself against the shelving. I’ve never felt like this—out of control, desperate, aching for something I can barely name.
“Holy shit, what happened to you?”
I whirl around, nearly knocking over a display of specialty blends. Jenna stands in the doorway, her eyes wide as she takes in my disheveled state. Heat floods my cheeks as I try to smooth my hair and straighten my clothes.
“Nothing.” My voice cracks. “Why?”
“Maybe because Walt just stormed out of here looking like he wanted to murder someone or fuck them senseless.” She steps closer, studying my face. Her eyes narrow at whatever she sees there. “Since you look like you’ve been thoroughly kissed, I’m going with fucking over murder.” She pauses, gaze dropping to my neck. “Is that a hickey?”
“What?” My hand flies to my throat, finding the tender spot where his mouth branded me. “He marked me?”
“Something did happen!” Triumph lights her face as she closes the door behind her. The lock clicks with finality. “Spill. Now. And don’t you dare leave out a single detail.”
“I…” Words fail me as fresh heat floods my cheeks. How can I explain what happened when I barely understand it myself?
“That good, huh?” Jenna’s grin turns wicked. “Your face is the color of our Valentine’s Day hearts. What exactly did Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Deliciously-Dominant do to get you so flustered?”
The memory of his growled commands makes me shiver. “He… We… I mean…” I sink onto a box of coffee filters, my legs too shaky to hold me. “He kissed me.”
“Kissed you?” She arches an eyebrow. “That’s what has you looking like you just starred in your own personal porn movie?”
If possible, my face burns hotter. “It wasn’t just a kiss. It was…” I gesture helplessly, unable to find the words.
“A claiming?” Jenna supplies, her smile knowing. “Welcome to the dark side, sweetie. Looks like Walt finally decided to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.”
“This is going to sound crazy.” I twist my hands in my lap, unable to meet Jenna’s eyes. The inventory room suddenly feels too small, too warm. “But when Walt pinned me against the wall?—”
“You liked it.” Jenna perches on a nearby box, her expression softening.
I nod, cheeks burning. “Is that—normal? Because he wasn’t gentle. He was demanding and forceful and…” My voice trails off.
“And that turned you on?” She keeps her tone neutral and encouraging.
I’ve never talked to anyone about sex, but I feel safe with Jenna. She understands and won’t make fun of me.
“Yes.” The word comes out as barely a whisper. “He said things too. Things that should horrify me. Things that probably make me sound like some kind of…”
“Some kind of, what?”
“Pervert.” The word tastes bitter.
“Pervert? Why would you say that?”
“Because normal girls don’t get excited when a guy threatens to spank them, right?”
“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea how normal that is.” Jenna’s laugh is gentle and understanding. “Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with you. Men like Walt know how to spice things up, and as long as you’re okay with it, there’s nothing to feel bad about.” There’s no judgment on her face.
“He said he wanted to tie me up.” Heat floods my core at the memory. “And I wanted him to. God, I still want him to.” My thighs clench at the memory. I can’t stop thinking about it.
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Warmth fills her voice. “And it’s not crazy at all.”
“No?” I bite my lip. “Because it feels—intense. Like maybe I’m in over my head.”
“Walt knows what he’s doing.” Jenna chooses her words carefully. “He won’t do anything without your consent.”
“But that’s just it.” I wrap my arms around myself. “He didn’t ask. He just—took control. Demanded.”
“Oh, honey. Walt will never force anything on you. He’ll test your limits and respect them.”
“No?” I dare to glance up. “Because he didn’t just stop there. He said he wanted to…” I swallow hard. “…and instead of being scared or angry, I just felt?—”
“Hot? Excited? Like your whole body was on fire?”
“God, yes.” Relief floods through me. “Is that wrong? I mean, I’m getting turned on by the idea of him—controlling me like that.”
“Hey.” Jenna touches my arm. “There’s no reason to feel bad about how he makes you feel. It’s normal to find it exciting.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. The way he looks at you? That’s everything.”
“He said I’m his.” My voice trembles. “That after tonight…”
“Are you ready for that?”
The question hangs in the air. Am I? The ache between my legs screams yes, but my inexperience makes me hesitate. How can I tell her I’ve never… That I don’t know how…
Nope. That’s one secret I’m not ready to share. Because I’m in my twenties, everyone assumes I’ve had sex. That I know what I’m doing. I’m more afraid to tell Jenna I’m still a virgin than I am talking to her about Walt tying me up and spanking me.
I can’t face another minute surrounded by coffee beans and memories of Walt’s hands.
I chew on my bottom lip as I search for an escape from this conversation. My pulse is still racing, my body betraying me with the memory of Walt’s hands, his voice, his promise.
I glance at Jenna, feeling the weight of her gaze. How she looks at me—like she’s waiting for me to spill every secret tangled in my chest. It makes my skin prickle.
I shift on my feet, suddenly hyperaware of the snug fit of my apron and the oppressive warmth of the shop.
“I—uh… Switch of topic.” My voice wobbles, and I fake a laugh, brushing my hands on my apron as if there’s something on them. “My brother’s in town for dinner.” I fidget with my apron strings. “I know I said I’d work Sophia’s shift, but is there any chance I can duck out early?”
It’s a clumsy pivot, but it works. At least, I hope it does.
“Of course.” Jenna’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Gives you time to process—everything.” She leaves me with a smile on her lips. The door clicks behind her, leaving me blessedly alone. I lean against the metal shelving. The cool surface feels good against my overheated skin. Then, I remember this is the same spot where Walt pinned me.
My body remembers every second. His strength replays in my muscles, how he effortlessly controlled my body and lifted my wrists above my head. How I let him. The unyielding press of his thighs against mine. His lips on my mouth.
Power radiates from him, even in memory. The way he took control, brooking no argument was beyond hot. His muscled body trapped me, leaving no room for escape. Not that I wanted to escape. The hard ridge of his cock grinding against my stomach sent electricity shooting through my core. And the size? Dear Lord, how is it ever going to fit—down there?
His growled promises replay in vivid detail: “I’m going to make you scream.” The deep timbre of his voice, the dark promise in each word. My nipples tighten, and I press my thighs together, trying to ease the persistent ache.
How can one kiss—one moment—change everything?
Transform me from a confident businesswoman to this trembling mess? As another memory hits, my phone slips from my suddenly clammy palm—his teeth grazing my neck, marking me.
Time slips away as I stand frozen, lost in the sensory assault. The rich coffee aroma fades beneath the phantom scent of his skin—spice, sweat, and pure male. The sounds of the café dim against the echo of his words: “When I’m done, you’ll never want to be anywhere else but in my arms.”
Shit. I’m going to be late.
I need to get ready. I need to somehow face my brother across a dinner table while my body thrums with unfulfilled desires. I need to do that while Walt’s marks burn on my skin.
One advantage to living and working at Guardian HQ is it doesn’t take long to get from one place to another. I take one of the ever-ready free-roaming golf carts and speed to my barracks.
My apartment feels foreign, charged with new energy. Everything I touch reminds me of Walt’s promises. The doorknob—his grip on my wrists. The kitchen counter—his threat to bend me over and spank me. The couch—God, the things he could do to me there.
I stumble into my bedroom, pulse racing. The ceiling fan stirs the air, raising goosebumps on my heated skin.
My closet holds no answers. Sundresses mock me with their sweet patterns. Jeans feel too restrictive for my sensitized skin. Professional wear seems laughably prim after Walt’s filthy promises. My favorite blue wrap dress that usually says “ Professional ” now whispers, “Unwrap me. ” I can’t wear the red cocktail dress. It screams, “Fuck me.”
Clothes litter my bed—rejected outfits that suddenly seem too innocent, too naive. Too virginal.
What does someone wear when meeting their brother for dinner but can’t stop thinking about another man’s promise to spank them?
My hands shake as I push hangers aside. Nothing feels right. Everything feels charged with new meaning. Even my cotton panties feel too restrictive, too warm against my heated flesh.
Walt’s words echo: “ I want to own every inch of your body.”
I grip the closet door, steadying myself. How am I supposed to sit through dinner knowing what’s coming after? Knowing Walt’s out there, waiting, planning to claim every part of me?
The black dress catches my eye. Simple. Elegant. But the way it hugs my curves… The neckline dips low enough to hint at cleavage but still remains modest. The hem hits mid-thigh, showing enough leg to make a man wonder but not too much to be indecent.
Would Walt approve?
The thought shoots straight to my core. Since when do I care about his approval?
Since he pinned you against that wall and promised to own you.
Yeah, me and my diary are going to have a long, hard talk after tonight.
My hands shake as I slip the dress from its hanger. The silk whispers against my skin as I hold it up. I could be the woman Walt sees in this dress—sexy, desirable, ready for his touch.
But first, dinner with my brother. Sweet, protective Malikai has no idea his little sister is about to…
Heat floods my cheeks. How can I sit across from him, knowing what Walt plans to do to me later? Knowing that under this sophisticated dress, I’m wet and aching for a man’s touch?
The dress pools on my bed as I sink down beside it. What am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t dress for men. I don’t tremble at the thought of being spanked. I don’t…
Walt’s voice echoes in my head: “You’re mine.”
My body clenches in response. Maybe this is me—just a version I’ve never dared to explore before.
I reach for the dress again, and a decision is made—time to find out.