Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Mal shattered in Phillip's arms. This time it was around his length. Phillip gritted his teeth and held his release at bay. He was not done. He would never be done with her.
They'd had to take it slowly when he'd pressed just the tip inside her. Three years apart and her channel had become snug. It was like the first time all over again. Only better. Because this time Phillip knew exactly how to get his love wet.
When they were young, he was all too eager to get inside of the wondrous creature that was Maleficent.
There had been a few winces and sharp intakes of breath as he fumbled his way into her channel.
This time, Phillip took pleasure in working himself in slowly, inch by inch, while she begged him for more, harder, faster.
Once she caught her breath from the second orgasm, he would give her that—and more.
Phillip held Mal close, his arms wrapped tightly around her as if, by sheer will alone, he could keep her there forever.
That first kiss of the reunion had shattered the lethargy that had weighed on him for three long years.
The fog that had dulled his senses, the exhaustion that had seeped into his bones—gone, as if it had never existed.
He felt awake, truly awake, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.
It was more than their kiss. More than the orgasms. It was magic. The kind read about in fairy tales. The kind no one believed in until it happened right before their eyes.
The world tasted sweeter with Mal's lips against his.
The air smelled fresher with each breath they shared.
He could feel it—his blood rushing hot and fast through his veins, his heart thundering in his chest. That first kiss had made his soul sing, reigniting every part of him that had withered without her.
He smiled against her lips now. The joy was so fierce it made his chest ache. This was what it meant to live.
Mal's hard body was soft and yielding under him.
He'd always marveled that she was the daughter of a tree.
Her skin was the rich color of the earth.
Her attitude was tough as bark. But Phillip had always seen the softness of her.
He'd always seen past the fire and steel she wielded against the rest of the world to protect her folk as their Guardian. It was only in his arms that she didn’t have to be fierce.
When Mal was with Phillip, she set her burdens down and played as a child, laughed as a young girl, loved as a grown woman.
With him, she didn’t have to carry the weight of the forest or protect everyone around her.
Here, with him, she could rest. She could give in.
And Phillip knew that was the rarest gift he could give her: trust, the ability for this great Guardian to surrender. Even if just for a time.
He kissed her deeper, pressing his erection as far as he could reach into her core. She gasped, her inner muscles tightening around him again. Not in orgasm, just in delight.
He tasted the salt of her tears, giving gratitude to each one she blessed him with.
Her scent—earthy, wild, and tinged with something floral—wrapped around him like a spell, grounding him as he ground his hips into her.
He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of their lovemaking, committing it to memory.
Phillip hadn’t been born hungry for power or war. He had grown up knowing that duty came first—that his role was to serve his people and keep peace. The only conquest he had ever desired, the only victory that had ever mattered to him, was winning Mal.
From the time they were young, he had studied her with the precision of a tactician, searching for the cracks in her formidable armor.
He’d found those cracks hidden beneath her strength and sharp edges.
For all her power, Mal craved care. She longed for someone strong enough to stand beside her.
Someone she didn’t have to carry. Someone who would carry her when she grew weary.
Phillip knew this truth well. He had learned it wasn't just Mal who craved this care; many powerful women like her did. Show them a steady, capable hand, and they would bend willingly—not to submission, but to trust.
Phillip didn’t want to bend Mal in surrender. No, the only way he ever wanted to bend her was beneath him, atop him, on her knees facing him or with her face buried in the pillows as he buried himself inside her.
She bent her knees, pulling them up toward her armpits now.
Her body was as pliant as a blade of spring grass as she welcomed him even deeper into her body.
Her lips were soft beneath his. Her body was warm and pliable in his arms. Right now, she was a living contradiction to the untouchable force she showed the world.
She was fire and wildness, yes, but here, in his embrace, she was also soft rain and quiet nights.
She was everything, and Phillip was a man reborn.
When he’d thought she was dead, something inside him had died, too. Every day since had felt like a slow suffocation, the world dull and lifeless without her. But now... now he was in heaven as he brought her toward her third orgasm.
He knew that with each of her climaxes, her muscles would clench harder, longer. This time, she screamed while Phillip nearly choked on his tongue. Her private muscles squeezed him so hard it stole his breath.
He could hold back his pleasure no longer.
Phillip tilted his head and roared his release.
Once he was spent inside of her, he found her mouth.
He savored the way Mal responded to him without hesitation.
She clutched at his shoulders, locking her ankles over his ass as she continued to tremble and undulate against him.
Her magic hummed faintly between them, brushing against his skin like a whisper, as if even her power acknowledged the connection between them.
He wasn’t just holding her in his arms—he was holding her heart, her trust, her soul.
It was fitting, since he'd given all those things to her the first time they'd met.
Now it felt like he was being reacquainted with a part of himself he'd left behind.
He swore to himself and to her that they would never be parted again.