Chapter 15 - June
June
Malcolm’s fierce kiss floods my body with heat and turns my brain to mush, but I come to my senses as we enter my bedroom. I break the kiss and squirm in his hold.
“Put me down!”
He smiles. “That’s what I’m going to do.”
He carries me to my bed and lays me down. I try to roll away from under him, but he pins me to my mattress with his larger body.
“What are you—”
He cuts me off with another kiss and deepens it by pushing his tongue between my lips. I whimper into his mouth, arching under him in resistance despite the ache between my legs.
I excused the first time he kissed me as a mistake caused by alcohol, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let this happen again. Here we are, only a few hours later, after I caught him giving me a much naughtier kiss while I was sleeping.
Malcolm is sweet one moment, aggressive the next. He caresses my head as our lips and tongues move together, then he grips my hair so I can’t move as he trails hungry kisses down my neck.
He’s between my legs, his erection pressed right against my pussy. It’s hard and huge, weighing down on me like a lead paperweight.
When he grinds that monster against me, my body moves on instinct, my hips lifting and rolling in sync with him. He groans, his warm breath gusting over my skin, and my pussy tightens at the sound.
What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t feel these things. I shouldn’t enjoy his kisses or his hardness against me. It’s wrong. For many reasons. And I’m angry with him for breaking my trust.
“I’m not… I’m not going to let you take advantage of me twice in one night,” I groan.
I squirm underneath him, pushing against his chest. He doesn’t move an inch. He kisses just below my ear, his voice low and firm with determination.
“I’m not going to stop until I finish what I started.”
My heart drums. What does he mean by that? Is he going to fuck me whether I want it or not?
I do want it.
No, I don’t!
Which voice is lying and which one’s telling the truth? I know the answer. I’m just too ashamed to admit it to myself.
Malcolm lifts himself and moves back. That’s my chance to escape whatever he plans to do to me. I’m frozen by perverse curiosity, my gaze fixed on the large tent in his boxers. I don’t stop him either when he hooks his fingers into my shorts and pulls them down my legs.
I’m not wearing underwear. He took them off so he could have his dirty way with me while I was unaware. When he chased after the intruder, I quickly grabbed a pair of shorts and pulled them on.
He spreads my legs and my face burns that I’m totally bared to my dad’s best friend. I try to close them and he grips my knees holding me open. I put my hands between my thighs. Slickness smears my fingers.
“Why are you hiding yourself? I already had a good look at it, babygirl.” He licks his lips. “Tasted it too.”
I glare at him. “You shouldn’t be proud of that. You should be sorry for what you did.”
“I am sorry. I’m sorry I got interrupted before I made you come on my face. But the night’s not over yet.”
More warmth rush to my cheeks and I stare up at Malcolm, seeing him with fresh, wide-open eyes. The man I knew before tonight seemed so sweet and gentlemanly. Little did I know, lurking beneath his good guy facade was a filthy-mouthed version, a dark hunger in his eyes that’s scary and thrilling.
He bends over me, gliding his hand up the inside of my right thigh. I tremble from his touch but push against his chest when he tries to kiss me again.
He pulls my other hand away from between my legs and strokes me. I whimper, my traitorous hips lifting to meet his hand. Triumph fills his hazel eyes.
“All that protesting how this is wrong, and you still got so wet for me.”
No lies detected, only shame because he’s right. His fingers glide over me with ease as he rubs me back and forth.
“That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean I want this.”
“You do want this.” His voice is a low rumble, his breath ghosting over my lips. “You don’t have to say the words. Your moans are enough for me.”
His forehead pressed to mine, Malcolm inhales my whimpers when he parts me and strokes my clit. My morals fight a losing battle with lust. I close my eyes and groan his name in protest while I rock my hips to his dirty touch.
I don’t understand how something so wrong could feel so good. How two conflicting voices can exist in my head at the same time. One demands, stop this. The other cries, more.
He slips his fingers lower and eases one into me, swallowing my long moan as he sinks it deeper. My walls eagerly tighten around it. That deep craving to be filled is somewhat satisfied, but when he squeezes another one into me, I moan as his large fingers stretch me.
“Good girl. Take them deep and moan for uncle.”
I can’t believe it. While his crude reminder of our close relationship burns me up with more shame, he’s enjoying the wrongness of what’s happening right now.
My hand is still at his chest but I don’t stop him when he dips his head and kisses me again. He groans into my mouth as he pumps his fingers into my pussy.
Soft, wet sounds follow every thrust of his fingers inside me. I moan and roll my hips, shamefully taking pleasure from his thick fingers stroking along my insides and filling me deep with each plunge.
Malcolm trails his kiss to my jaw, his stubble prickling my skin. He pulls his fingers out of me and circles my clit again, his fingers slippery with my wetness. I writhe under him. My body heat and pleasure climbs, along with the volume of my moans.
I tense and let out a frustrated groan when he abruptly pulls his fingers away. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks them, then smirks at me.
“Don’t worry. I’m not done with you.”
After he steals another kiss, he crawls down my body, and lies on his stomach, his face between my spread thighs.
That’s how he was when I woke up and caught him a few hours ago. Being reminded of his betrayal should make me angry again, but lust is the only emotion controlling me right now.
Malcolm and I stare at each other as he moves his face closer to my pussy. Eyes wide, lips parted, I hold my breath at the sordid reality. His face between my legs is the most wrong thing I’ve ever seen.
My dad’s best friend is about to eat my pussy.
It’s not the first time he’s done this, but it’s the first time I’m an active participant. Earlier, I tried to use a scale to judge the inappropriateness of our kiss. Well, we broke the scale a while back. This only compounds the wrongness.
Malcolm presses a firm kiss to my pussy and I jerk at the contact.
“Oh...”
Satisfaction in his eyes, he follows the kiss with a slow, insistent lick. I moan and lift my hips for more. He delivers, lapping at me again and again, his relaxed pace growing eager.
Malcolm groans as he shoves his mouth harder against me. His tongue is everywhere at once, rapidly sliding up and down and all around me. He swirls it over my clit as he sucks it firmly.
“Oh… ohh… ohh god…”
My chest heaves as I moan and squirm under him. My hands in his hair, I hold the back of his head to encourage his sinful, hungry feasting. His low groan vibrates through me.
“Fuck… baby… you’re so fucking delicious. I could eat you up all night.”
Malcolm lifts my legs and pushes them back. He holds me in a vulgar spread and growls while he enjoys me to the fullest. His fingers dig into my thighs as he sucks me whole, licks me harder, parts me with his tongue and stabs it into me.
I stare up at my bedroom ceiling with wide eyes and open lips, gripped by pleasure and shock. I’m his best friend’s daughter, yet Malcolm unrepentantly devours me like he’s headed for execution and I’m his last meal.
He releases one of my legs and I groan as he eases his fingers deep inside me.
He multitasks licking me greedily while he fucks me with his fingers.
No other man has ever devoted himself to my pleasure like this, but ever since we reconnected, Malcolm keeps making it clear how much he loves taking care of me.
Pressure builds between my legs, my body straining for release. I clutch a fistful of his hair as he ardently licks my pussy. His fingers pump in and out of me, stroking that sweet spot buried inside me with expert consistency.
My eyes squeezed shut, my gasping whimpers grow louder as the tension intensifies until it finally releases.
“Ohh… oh god... Mal...”
Moaning the nickname I’ve called Malcolm for years while I come on his face is another twisted layer to this taboo moment.
Bliss hits me hard, leaving me shaking and breathless. The pulsing between my legs is so intense that my walls clamp tight around his fingers still thrusting into me. Malcolm groans against me and moves his head side to side, doubling his efforts to draw out my orgasm.
My body goes slack as my release fades into mild tingles. He pulls away and raises himself onto his knees. He sucks my wetness from his fingers again, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
I pant, trying to catch my breath from coming so hard. My gaze drops to that huge bulge in his boxers. Its outline is more pronounced when he grabs it and strokes it over his underwear. I tense in anticipation and meet his gaze.
I want to fuck you so bad.
That’s what he said to me in my dream last night. That’s what his eyes say now, their hazel depths dark with lust.
It’s so messed up, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt such a desperate need for anything else. I want Malcolm to fuck me too.
Every part of me is silently begging him to do it, to push his cock deep inside me and make me come on it just like I did on his mouth and fingers.
He’s breathing hard as he rubs himself, his jaw clenched, a conflicted look crossing his face for the first time since this whole thing started.
To my surprise and great disappointment, he shuffles backward and leaves the bed. He stares at me for a moment, then turns and strides out of my room without another word. My door clicks shut behind him.
What the hell!
I blow out a harsh breath and scowl at my ceiling. I’m mad at him for leaving, mad at myself for being mad that he left. How can I be upset when stopping things before they got too far is what I wanted in the first place?
It’s a good thing he made the right choice. If it were up to me, we would’ve made the wrongest one of our lives.
* * *
After the stressful night with the intruder and the police, and the toe-curling pleasure Malcolm gave me, sleep comes for me faster than taking a pill. In the morning, I awake well-rested again.
An orgasm a day keeps the bad dreams away.
My mind jumps right into recalling last night’s filthy events with Malcolm. I’m assaulted with snippets, each one so scandalous, I’m tense with shame.
I’ve always considered myself a good, law-abiding, follow-the-rules kind of person. Last night, I was not that person at all. What Malcolm and I did is so wrong, it would create a serious rift in my family if they ever find out.
Thinking about one trouble reminds me of the other one last night when that asshole broke into my apartment again.
The worst part of this creepy situation is his unknown identity. Knowing who he is would make it easier to understand why he’s doing this to me. The answer to that question would be helpful in stopping him.
When the police asked us to describe the guy, I struggled to share anything useful. His mask hid most of his face, my lamp didn’t light the room well, and I was too overcome with terror to pay attention to anything unique. All I remember is the bit of pale skin by his eyes and lips.
Malcolm didn’t get to see much either because he was behind him the whole time. But he at least caught some important details like the guy’s height and build, and what he wore.
My mind turns to the prime suspect: Kevin. It really could be a coincidence he was at the park yesterday, but it’s hard to say.
The story Penny told me about him reminds me of the guys who consider themselves an involuntary celibate. These men struggle with getting a woman to have sex with them, and some of them hate women as a result.
Penny said it’s always been hard for her cousin to get a girlfriend. What if he’s an incel? Maybe he’s breaking in to my apartment because he’s furious that I lied to escape our bad date, and he’s determined to get what he thinks he’s owed from me.
Fresh anxiety courses through me. Although I was angry with Malcolm at the time, thank god he was in my room right then.
All things work together for good is what Grandma Sadie likes to say when a bad situation works out for the best. Although, I’m sure my pious grandmother wouldn’t think it’s good that Malcolm was in my room for a naughty midnight snack.
Dammit, I came full circle back to the filthy memories from last night! I grab my extra pillow and cover my face, hoping if I smother myself, the images will leave my brain. It doesn’t work. Worse, I’m getting tingly between my legs remembering that moment Malcolm looked into my eyes and licked me.
I definitely need therapy. Or maybe I need to follow Grandma Sadie’s example and keep showing up at God’s house like He owes me money. Raised as a Catholic when she was living in Ireland, she dutifully goes to church three days a week.
In the plainest language, Malcolm sexually assaulted me while I slept. That’s something I should’ve reported to the police when they were right here in my apartment last night. I should even tell my parents what he did.
Am I going to do any of that? Nope. Instead, I’m lying here, reliving the naughty moment after the police left, a shameful part of me wishing it hadn’t ended so soon.
What you need to do is stop lying around and get ready for work.
I fling the pillow aside with a sigh, then stand. Tentatively, I leave my room to grab a quick shower, glancing at Malcolm’s closed bedroom door.
The apartment seems quiet. Is he here? When I’m dressed and ready to leave, I get proof he’s already gone from the note on the coffee table.
Chicken wrap in the fridge for your lunch. Have a good day at work. - M
I frown at the note. Despite the pleasure he gave me last night and my confusing feelings for him, I’m still pissed at him for what he did.
His considerateness and protectiveness lulled me into a false sense of security around him, and he used that to take sexual advantage of me. I’m annoyed by his latest thoughtful gesture. I’m not ready to let go of my anger, yet it drops a few degrees anyway.
Oh my god. I can’t be that pathetic. Some women will forgive a man for his misdeeds if he gives her jewellery. I’m in danger of doing it over food.
I let out an irritated huff and head for the fridge to get my chicken wrap.