Chapter Ten. Malachi
CHAPTER TEN
Malachi
Shock sweeps through me, and I can’t move.
Her soft, supple mouth presses to mine.
Jesus. I … I’ve never …
Her tongue sweeps along the seam of my lips, and though mine remain closed, I swear I can taste her. Taste that sweet and earthy musk.
It’s that tease of flavor and the blood pumping hot through my veins, filling my cock so fast, so hard, I’m momentarily light-headed that causes me to inhale sharply. Causes me to release a moan so rough, it emerges from the deepest, darkest parts of me.
Causes me to permit her what no other person has ever had from me.
I don’t close my eyes; I can’t. It’s too late for that.
Too late for me. And though I’ve lived thirty-three years and have seen more than most people should, this is something brand-new.
And I don’t want to miss a second of it.
The press of her mouth to mine? It shudders through me like an earthquake, reconstructing my very foundation.
Eshe pulls back, studies me for a long moment; then whatever she sees has her eyes flaring brighter. With only the rushed, jagged rasp of our breath punctuating the room, she leans forward once more and takes my mouth again.
Takes.
Claims.
Fucks.
This mouth is hers, and I open under the thrust of her tongue, surrendering to the hungry demand in it. Surrendering to the ravenous greed snarling and snapping inside me.
Yeah, I’m not ashamed to admit this is my first kiss, but I’m a quick study.
I don’t need a tutorial in how to meet her lick for lick, suck for suck.
Desire is the best teacher. My grip tightens on the back of her neck, holding her firmly in place as I mimic the glide of her tongue against mine, follow every twist and flick over the roof of my mouth.
And soon it’s me who’s pushing inside her mouth, chasing her moans with my tongue, sinking my teeth into the damn-near-indecent curve of her bottom lip.
I can’t get enough.
Not of her taste. Of the texture. Of the little catches of breath and needy groans.
I. Can’t. Fucking. Get. Enough.
The fingers of my other hand lift to tunnel through her thick, dark amber curls, fist them, and drag her head back so I can fuck that mouth harder, faster.
One hit. That’s all I needed, and now she’s an addiction, a craving in my veins.
“Fuck,” I grunt. Lifting my other hand to her head and tangling my fingers in the red-and-brown curls, I tip her head back and press my forehead to hers, closing my eyes so I’m not staring at that pretty, damp temptation of a mouth. “There’s something else you don’t know about me.”
“Doubtful. Go ahead though.” She rubs the pad of her thumb over my bottom lip, then slides it between hers, slightly moaning, her lashes fluttering. “What is it?”
“I’ve never kissed a person on the mouth. You were my first. You are my first,” I say, a low, gravelly admission.
She blinks, her bright gaze roaming my face as if searching for a sign that I’m joking as she slowly leans back. “No. That’s not true. You just snatched my soul through my pussy earlier tonight. And I’ve seen the people you’ve fucked—”
“I never said I haven’t fucked. I said ‘kissed.’”
What seems like … horror spasms across her expression. A chilly, bony fist seizes my heart and squeezes. The fuck? What the hell was that about? Did the thought of being—
“God, Malachi, I’m sorry.” Her pained, fervent voice snatches me out of the angry, humiliated spiral I was edging toward. “I didn’t know.”
The apology is so out of left field, I can’t reply or stir when she cups my jaw.
“I shouldn’t have taken that from you without your permission. So much has been taken from you—you should’ve been free to offer that to me or whoever you chose to be your first. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have—”
I quiet her with another kiss.
As fast and brutal as our first was, this one … this one is a seeking, almost-tender thing that asks questions as much as it demands everything. The languid roll and lick of my tongue is an incongruent dichotomy to the rock-hard length of my dick.
I would’ve never believed myself capable of gentle. Of tender. And shit, I’m not. This is Eshe.
Sliding one of my hands to the front of her throat, I circle it, relish the quick throb of her pulse.
From one instant to the next, the kiss shifts into a hotter, wetter mating.
A wilder one. I tighten my grip, hoping against hope that I leave bruises.
That I’ll look down and find this lovely, smooth skin bearing my personal brand.
The thought has me growing harder, and I squeeze her neck.
She arches into my hand and moans, encouraging me, goading me.
Goddamn, she’s going to be the end of me.
And I’m going to let her be. I’m going to let her be my destruction and enjoy every fucking second of it.
As soon as the thought passes through my head, I wrench my mouth away from hers, shooting to my feet, bringing her with me. In one motion, I haul her over my shoulder and stalk from the living room toward the stairs and the bedroom above.
The one thing on my mind? The only thing?
Getting my hands on that beautiful, powerful, wholly deadly body. Getting inside that body.
Once I gain the landing, I toss her onto the king-sized bed with the plain black sheets and immediately follow her down.
Slapping my palms on either side of her head, I crowd her, crouched over her smaller curvy frame, mimicking the same position she treated me to days earlier.
And though our roles are reversed this time, the same lust, the same feral heat bends and kinks inside me, grinding all reasons why I shouldn’t do this—touch her, put my mouth all over her, fuck her—to dust.
Everything in me roars with the need for this, for her.
The only question left is where to put my first bite.
My gaze zeroes in on her mouth. That disrespectful, corrupt, beautiful mouth.
It’s been my downfall and my revelation. And I want more. More of those full lips. More of that bold tongue. More of those teasing, dangerous teeth.
More of the strange … buzz that both whips me into a frenzy and feeds something deep inside me that I wasn’t even aware was starving.
I duck my head, distracting my own dangerous thoughts by setting the edge of my teeth to the graceful column of her throat.
Even now, my fingers curl into the mattress, eager and itching to circle her neck again, feel her pulse flutter and race against my skin, thrill in that sign of her potent, gorgeous life force under my hand.
Under my control. That power is only sweeter with the knowledge that this unstoppable force of nature wrapped in smooth brown skin and thick, luscious curves has submitted her power to me.
That surrender is more intoxicating than any kill.
With a hum that rumbles in my chest like a rusty engine, I follow up that scrape with the flat of my tongue. Cedarwood and hints of jasmine hit my taste buds with the strength and power of a sledgehammer.
“Are you going to fight me, li’l queen? Are you going to run?” I ask against her skin, rolling my tongue over her rapidly beating pulse.
Her breathy chuckle brushes my ear. “I never run; you should know that by now, Huntsman. But fight you? Oh yeah. If you want, we can get all good and bloody before we fuck.” She bows beneath me, rocking her hips upward. “I know you’d like that,” she softly taunts.
I rake my teeth down the side of her throat again, but this time I’m not so gentle.
Her moan drenches the air with pleasure and unashamed lust. She twists harder beneath me, spreading her legs and planting her feet on the mattress.
With a move that’s too sharp, too powerful for me to control, she flips, and suddenly I’m under her.
Before I can buck or try to unseat her, regain control, she strokes that hot little pussy over my cock, branding me. My back bows at the searing pleasure, and I clap a restraining hand to her waist and slide the other around her neck. What’s becoming my favorite resting place.
She slaps my hand away and replaces mine with hers at my throat.
My pulse thunders in my ears, growing louder and louder as her grip tightens.
Her hazel eyes gleam with excitement, with the same need pumping through me.
I press my head back into the pillow, arching into her hand, pleading for—demanding—a firmer, tighter touch from her.
Did I think she was submitting to me?
Did I believe I wanted that?
No, I may have wanted her submission, but right now I need the woman above me, grinding over my dick with a sadistic gleam in her eyes.
“Rub that pretty cunt all over my dick like you got an itch to scratch,” I say, digging my fingertips into her skin. Hard enough so anyone who looks here will know that the feared olori of the Mwuaji let me get close enough to mark her.
“You’ve become a regular fucking Chatty Cathy.
” Goddamn, that mouth. Twin needs claw at me.
Give her something to fill that insolent mouth—my tongue …
my cock. And the warring desire wants her to keep talking, continue teasing me.
Only she would dare. Only she gets this pass from me. “I really do have the power of the p.”
She smirks, and I surge upward, crushing my mouth to hers. It’s a hard, almost-punishing thrust of tongues, raking of teeth. When I tear my mouth away, her breath breaks on my lips in heated, fast puffs, and her gaze is bright, fucking glittering.
“Shut up,” I growl. Keep talking. The contradictory command echoes in my head.