34. Walt
THIRTY-FOUR
Walt
Malia tilts her head back, her gaze meeting mine, desire pooling in her eyes. She reaches between us, her fingers wrapping around my length, her touch both tentative and eager. A low groan resonates from deep within my chest, my head falling back, my body instinctively pressing into her hand. Her touch is a spark, a live wire, setting my body alight with need and longing.
She explores me, her strokes measured, her eyes locked on mine, gauging my reactions. My name is a whisper on her lips, a secret song.
“Malia,” I breathe, my voice hoarse with desire. Her grip tightens, her rhythm steadying, a dance of give and take, a silent conversation between our bodies.
I guide her, my hand covering hers, showing her the rhythm and pressure that brings me the most pleasure. She’s a quick study, her confidence growing with each stroke, her touch becoming more sure, more insistent.
She kisses my chest tenderly, her lips lingering before she sinks to her knees. Her eyes sparkle with mischief and desire, a combination that sends a wave of anticipation crashing through me. Water cascades down her hair, her face, as she takes me into her mouth.
The warmth and wetness of her mouth envelop me, a sensation so intense it sends a jolt through my body. She starts tentatively, her tongue exploring, her lips wrapping around me. I sense her nervousness, eagerness, desire to please and learn.
I guide her gently, my hand in her hair, fingers gently tightening and releasing, a silent encouragement, a steady rhythm.
“That’s it, love,” I murmur, my voice husky with desire and emotion. “Nice and slow.”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide and trusting, seeking approval, her mouth stretched around me. The sight of her on her knees, looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes, is almost more than I can bear. But I hold back, reining in my desire, wanting to savor this moment, this connection.
She takes more of me into her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, her hand wrapping around the base of my shaft. She’s learning quickly, her confidence growing with each stroke.
I let out a ragged sigh, “Ah, Malia. Just like that, love.”
She senses my restraint and pulls back slightly, looking up at me with a question in her eyes. I smile down at her, brushing a wet strand of hair away from her face, my touch tender, my eyes filled with love and reassurance.
“You’re doing amazing, love,” I assure her, my voice soft. “But let’s slow down. I want to enjoy this, enjoy you. I want to savor you.”
She nods, her eyes filling with understanding and a newfound confidence. She slows her pace, her tongue swirling around my head, her lips sucking gently.
I groan, my body trembling with the effort of holding back, but I do it, for her. I want her to feel good about this, about us. I want her to know that she’s in control.
I drink in her face, the truth of her feelings shining in her eyes, a beacon guiding me to let go. Tension grips my body as my fingers tangle in her hair. My breath hitches, muscles coiling tight as sensation builds, a gathering storm at the base of my spine.
“Malia,” I groan, her name on my lips a symphony of surrender and adoration. She looks up at me, eyes wide and eager, her mouth a sanctuary of exquisite pleasure.
The sensation swells, threatening to overwhelm me. Every nerve is a live wire, every muscle taut, poised on the precipice. My grip on her hair tightens, my hips moving instinctively as I chart our course to the release we both crave.
“I’m close,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with pent-up passion. She doesn’t waver, her mouth and hand moving in perfect harmony, driving me closer to the edge.
And then, with a final, deep thrust, I shatter. A low, primal sound escapes my lips, a raw, unfiltered expression of my climax. Waves of pleasure crash over me, and she takes everything I give her, her hand gripping me tightly, guiding me through the storm.
My body convulses, hips jerking as I surrender to the intensity of my release. She meets my passion with her own, her throat working as she swallows, her mouth never ceasing its rhythmic embrace.
The pleasure is all-consuming, a blaze of sensation that leaves no part of me untouched. I groan, my body shuddering as the last waves of my orgasm ebb away.
As I drift back to reality, I gently draw her to her feet, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close. My body is still trembling slightly, my breath coming in quick gasps. I press a tender kiss to her forehead, my voice filled with gratitude and awe.
“That was—incredible,” I murmur, my heart still pounding in my chest. I can feel her smile against my skin, her body soft and pliant in my arms.
In this moment, she is my world, my universe, and my everything.
And I’m utterly, completely hers.
She tilts her head back, her eyes dancing with curiosity and a hint of mischief. “Was that okay?” she asks, a playful smile gracing her lips.
A warm chuckle rumbles deep in my chest, my heart still pounding with residual pleasure. “Incredible,” I murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a surge of affection and amusement washing over me. “You are incredible.”
Her grin widens, her eyes sparkling with pleasure and satisfaction. “I’m glad,” she whispers, her voice laced with mischief and delight. “Because I plan on doing it again.”
Laughter bubbles up from within me, a sound filled with happiness and contentment. In this moment, with Malia in my arms, I am exactly where I am meant to be. Our connection is a tangible force that wraps around us, binding us together.
Her expression turns thoughtful, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. “You know,” she says, her voice soft but steady, “technically, I’m still a virgin.”
I smile, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, feeling her melt into me. “My love, we’ve shared so much already. When we come together fully, it will be special, unhurried. Not here, not like this.” I gesture vaguely to the shower cubicle, my voice filled with promise. “It will be somewhere comfortable, somewhere meaningful.”
She nods, her eyes filled with trust and understanding. “I like that plan,” she whispers, her voice tinged with anticipation. A shy smile plays on her lips as she looks up at me. “Can I ask you something?”
I brush a wet strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, my touch gentle, reverent. “Of course, anything.”
She takes a deep breath, her cheeks flushing slightly. “When you… When we… Will you be all growly and bossy?” she asks, her eyes casting down shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “Growly and bossy?” I ask, intrigued by her request.
She blushes even more, her eyes meeting mine before flitting away again. “You know, taking control. It’s kind of—exciting, in a scary, fun kind of way,” she admits, her voice softly vulnerable, a secret shared just between the two of us.
I smile, my heart swelling with love and tenderness. “If that’s what you want, my love, then that’s what you’ll get,” I promise, my voice a low rumble, a preview of the growly, bossy lover she desires.
At this moment, I would give her anything, be anything she needs. Her pleasure and her happiness are my only concerns, my only goals. I chuckle, my thumb tracing her cheek, a tender caress that makes her lean into my touch.
“You like it when I’m growly, huh?” I tease, my voice a low rumble as I lean in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I pull back, my eyes meeting hers, a silent promise passing between us. “I’ll be growly whenever you want. Just say the word.”
Her grin is shy, her eyes sparkling with excitement and trust. “I want you to be growly all the time,” she admits, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. She peeks up at me, her eyes filled with a beautiful blend of embarrassment and desire.
A surge of heat rushes through me at her words, a primal response to her honesty, her trust. I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing her jawline, a reverent touch that makes her eyes flutter closed. I lean in, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips, feeling her melt into me, her body molding to mine.
“Are you sure about this? Because that hits my buttons. It might be too intense for you if I take charge like that. It might be better to walk before we run.”
She looks up at me, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of confusion. “What does that mean?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
I brush a wet strand of hair away from her face, my touch gentle, my eyes never leaving hers. “It means, are you sure you don’t want to take things slow at first? To explore each other gently, softly?”
“Honestly? No.” Her voice is filled with conviction, her eyes reflecting memories of our past encounters. “I’d rather start intense,” she admits, her cheeks flushing slightly. She pauses, her eyes reflecting memories from our past encounters.
“I liked it when you shoved me up against the wall at work,” she admits, her voice soft but sure. “And I liked how you took control in the bathroom at the restaurant and what you did in the booth. Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know about sex or that kind of stuff. I’ve read all the books and I know what interests me. That kind of thing hits my buttons as well. I don’t want my first time with you to be soft and gentle.”
She draws in a deep breath, her eyes shining with resolve. “Being taken hostage taught me one thing: seize life with both hands. I don’t want to wait. I want to experience it all right from the start.”
I drink in her face, the determination etched in every line, the resolve burning in her eyes. A surge of respect and desire courses through me.
“Alright, love.” My voice is low and steady, a rumble of promise and passion. “You’re in for a wild ride. But remember—” I pull back slightly, my eyes locking onto hers, “—you hold the reins. One word from you, and everything stops.” I lean in, pressing a fierce, passionate kiss to her lips, sealing our agreement, our promise.
“I know.” Her smile is radiant, her eyes filled with trust and anticipation. “And I will.”
I press a soft kiss to her forehead, a surge of protectiveness and desire washing over me. I pull her into my arms, her body molding to mine, a perfect fit. We stand there for a moment, our hearts beating in sync, a shared rhythm, a silent song.
“I love you,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with emotion.
“I love you more,” she whispers, her arms wrapping around me, holding me tight. We remain like that, locked in our embrace, the world around us fading away.
Eventually, I reach out, turning off the water. I grab a towel, wrapping it around her carefully. I dry her off gently, reverently, before securing another towel around my waist. We dress in silence, her slipping into fresh clothes, me into—well, my options are more limited.
Taking her hand, I lead her back to our seats, our fingers entwined.
We curl up together, her body pressed against mine, our breaths slowly returning to normal. I kiss her forehead, a sense of contentment washing over me. This is where I’m meant to be. Right here, with her.
After so much tension, the flight home feels surreal. The cabin fills with quiet conversation and occasional laughter as the adrenaline crash hits.
Across the aisle, Ally sits between Hank and Gabe. Their usual larger-than-life personalities soften as they coax her to eat something. She picks at the meal until Hank starts dramatically taste-testing everything, making her laugh despite herself.
Gabe’s hand rests casually on her knee, and she leans into the touch like a flower seeking sunlight. Hank drapes an arm over her shoulder, his fingertips drawing circles on her skin. The look they exchange over her head carries volumes—possession, protection, and something deeper. Something that suggests they might have finally found what they’ve been searching for.
The rest of the flight passes in a blur of tender kisses and quiet, intimate moments. Our bodies remain entwined, fingers interlaced, breaths synchronizing—a silent dance of reassurance and desire. Each touch, each kiss, a testament to the reality of us, a whispered promise of more to come.
Around us, the scientists huddle together, their voices a low hum of urgency and relief. The quantum cascade obliterated their research, and yet, they seem almost giddy; their words tumbling over each other as if giving voice to their experiences somehow validates them.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips during one such moment. “God, I love you so much.”
Her smile could light up the sky. “I love you more,” she breathes and kisses me back.
Many hours later, as we descend, I glance across the aisle one last time. Ally is finally asleep, her head resting on Hank’s shoulder, Gabe’s jacket draped over her like a protective blanket. They watch over her with matching expressions of tender protectiveness.
The cabin is filled with a sense of hope. It’s there in Malia’s smile, in Ally’s peaceful slumber, in the tight embraces of families reunited. It’s a tangible force, a silent promise that life, love, and light will always find a way to pierce through the darkness.
The wheels touch down, and a wave of relief washes over me.
We’re home.
Malia is safe.
And we’re together.