Chapter Ten. Malachi #2
That wicked, taunting smile revisits her lips as she shimmies off me and strips out of my too-big clothes.
I’ve learned several things about Eshe in the last few days.
One of them? Modesty is theory, not practice.
She doesn’t try to conceal her breasts or shaved pussy from me.
No, she stalks across the room to my bathroom, comfortable in her skin.
When she reappears, she climbs onto the bed and crawls up my body again.
Her small, firm, and absolutely perfect breasts are on full display, and my mouth waters to get around those large dark brown tips.
Earlier this evening, I feasted on that juicy flesh between her thighs but neglected to get a taste of those gorgeous tits. Not this time. I’m not going to make that mistake again.
“You’re going to be my gift to myself before I—” She bites her lip, cutting off the rest of that sentence. That admission. “C’mere.”
“Before you what, Eshe?” I ask, dread pooling in my chest, temporarily eclipsing the lust. My gaze roams her face, searching for … something.
She shakes her head and slips her hand behind my neck, pulling me forward until I’m sitting up.
“Atonement,” she murmurs. Before I can question that further, demand an explanation, she palms the back of my head and brings me close until I’m face-to-face with those beautiful breasts.
I inhale the scent of her skin, and shit, she’s not playing fair.
I sink beneath the undertow of desire and deliver a sharp nip to her neck and her collarbone.
Then I make my way to the tits that have been tormenting me since I woke up to her straddling me in that cottage.
I’ve watched them, free and jiggling, and my palms and fingers itch to plump them, mold them, pinch the berry tips.
I surrender to that fantasy.
On a low growl, I suck a nipple into my mouth, drawing hard.
Goddamn, it’s better than in my imagination.
Her high, tight cry cracks on the air seconds before she drags her nails over my scalp and holds on to my head.
The tiny flares of pain from her nails only egg me on, and I curl my tongue around the beaded tip, tormenting it with alternate long, hungry licks and fast stabs.
I shape the other tit, squeezing and pinching the nipple.
Eshe writhes against my mouth and hands, those nails digging into me, one clutching me close and the other gripping my shoulder. Her hips roll and slide to the rhythm I’m setting, and she’s caught on so quickly, so expertly, I reward her with a graze of my teeth over her swollen nipple.
Another cry rips from her, and I lunge upward, taking her mouth, wrapping my tongue around that muted scream.
When I return to her breasts, switching the first for the neglected one, her soft but ragged pants punctuate the air.
Only once the second nipple is rigid and a dark, angry brown do I bend her back and trail my lips down her torso to her slightly rounded belly and the shallow bowl of her navel.
“Wait.” She plucks at the back of my T-shirt. “Off. Take this off.”
For a moment, I go still. Another first. I’ve never had sex completely naked.
A swift lowering or raising of clothes has been all that’s needed in the past. She’s the first woman I will be skin to skin with, and …
Yeah, a whisper of fear shimmers in my chest. I’ve had her pussy in my mouth, and my dick’s been down her throat, but this—this will be different.
This will be more than a stripping away of clothes.
I’m once more giving her something I’ve never offered another person.
And a part of me is terrified of what Eshe will do with that.
“Hey.” She grips my chin, tips my head up. “Huntsman. Where’d you go?”
“Don’t call me that. Not here.” The demand slips free of me before I can rescind it.
She stills, peers up at me, and shit, I wouldn’t blame her if she shoved me off her, telling me and all six of my confused-ass personalities to get it together.
Instead, she cocks her head and strokes my jaw, continuing to silently study me. “Mala—”
I violently shake my head.
“No.”
I can’t. I just … can’t.
Not when I’m more physically bare with another person than I’ve ever been. She can’t ask me to be emotionally exposed, too. She might be ready for that—she’s also had two years of following me to prepare. I’ve had literal days to try and become accustomed to the explosion that is Eshe Diallo.
Shaking my head again, I gently shove her off me and jackknife off the bed, strip my clothes and boots off, and dive back onto the bed. Though her hot, soaked pussy leaves a wet path on my thigh as I stroke my bigger naked body over her curvier one, I don’t give in to that siren call. Not just yet.
A low, grated groan rumbles out of me as my chest rubs over her belly, over her soft breasts and diamond-hard nipples.
I clench my teeth against the agonized pleasure slamming into me like lightning bolts as my piercings make contact with her beaded tips.
Eshe lifts her arms, wraps them around my head, and for a moment that’s too long and entirely too brief, I bury my face in the crook of her neck.
This …
Touch. Skin to skin. Limbs tangled.
It’s too much—too raw, too intimate, too exposing.
And, goddamn me to hell, it’s not enough.
Inhaling sharply, I ease out of her embrace and sit back on my heels.
Her gaze drops to my dick, and it’s nearly a physical caress.
I fist myself, hissing at the hot jolt of electricity that sizzles up my spine and races back down to tingle in my balls.
Slowly, I pump my flesh, twisting my wrist when my hand glides over the swollen and weeping tip.
Her tongue peeks out, swiping a path over her bottom lip, and fuck if I don’t feel that small lick at the base of my dick.
Immediately, I’m snatched back to the night when she swallowed me down, right over that nimble tongue and into her tight-as-fuck throat.
The growl that rolls out of me is impossible to contain. And I don’t even try.
“You’re looking like you want another taste, little queen,” I grind out.
“And if I did, you’d give it to me, wouldn’t you?” she says. ’Cause it’s not a question.
As if her mind is drifting back to when she sucked me dry, her gaze flits over my chest, abdomen, and thigh. Landing on the places she cut me. It’s impossible, but those spots tingle, burn. Especially the ones on my dick. I want that again with her. Soon. But right now …
“I just had you all over my face and down my throat,” I murmur, staring at her puffy pussy lips and the small clit peeking out from the top of them.
She fucking shines, she’s so drenched. Even as I watch, more moisture leaks out, and this time, it’s me who drags my tongue across my lips.
“It’s only been hours.” I dip a finger between her folds, getting it all good and sticky with her.
Then I slide it between my lips and suck that delicious wet off my skin.
I can’t hold my eyes open when her distinctive flavor hits my tongue.
Sweet and tangy with a musk that’s all her.
“Doesn’t matter. Might as well be fucking days. ”
She doesn’t reply, doesn’t utter a word. Just spreads her thighs wider.
And I dive into her.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
That hint of her doesn’t compare to being face-first in her pussy.
I’m drowning in that delectable musk, gorging on it.
I open my mouth wide, trying to take her whole sex in my mouth, like a glutton trying to gorge on a feast instead of taking a piece at a time.
There’s no slowing me down; there’s no patience.
Not with my tongue spearing between her pussy lips, gathering all that cream.
Not with her pretty little clit fluttering with every lick and suck.
Not with the small, tight entrance clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing.
She is a buffet, and I’m the starving man who just pulled up to the table.
Eshe’s thighs squeeze my head in a vise grip.
Her hands clutch my head once more, and fuck, she’s not a passive rider.
Like the warrior she is, she fights me for her pleasure, riding my mouth with sinuous and then sharp, jerky thrusts.
My lips and chin are fucking covered in her, and part of me wants to rub the essence of her into my skin so she claims me as much as I claim her.
Claim her.
My mind balks, recoiling as if just faced with a vengeful spirit. I’ve never desired to claim someone, brand them. Not before her.
And it terrifies me.
The last time I cared—I loved—she was brutally taken from me to a place that I couldn’t follow. Different situation, but the terror is the same. It’s real.
I slap her thigh, and her eyes narrow on me.
“Turn over. Ass in the air,” I order.
She rises on her elbows, eyes narrowed. Slowly, she eases backward and then prowls toward me.
“Nah, Malachi, this ain’t that. You turn over.” Her tone is soft, but there’s steel underneath, and I’m reacting to that note before my mind even acknowledges it.
Without breaking our visual contact, I drop to my back, and she gifts me with a smile that’s both beautiful and sinister. Both set my blood pumping, my dick throbbing.
She climbs on top of me, not stopping until she’s clutching the headboard and her pussy hovers over my face.
I inhale, palm her thick thighs, and push my face into her cunt, dragging Eshe’s unique perfume into my lungs.
It centers me, forces the panic to retreat, and once more I’m lost in her.
I lightly bite one puffy lip and slowly sink two fingers inside her.
Slick, smooth muscles clamp down on them, and more of her juice trickles down my hand.
I lap at the trail, catching every bit of her.
I’m of the waste not, want not school of thought, and I’m not wasting one goddamn thing about her.