Chapter Ten. Malachi #3
A long, low moan escapes her, and she rocks against my mouth, spreads her legs wider.
Reaching a hand down, she clutches my head harder to her.
I get the hint. As I take up an almost-punishing pace in her pussy, pulling free and slamming my fingers inside, twisting my wrist and corkscrewing between those quivering walls, I latch onto her clit.
My knuckles pound against her folds, and goddamn, that pussy sucks at me so tightly, so greedily, my fingers might very well be bruised black and blue.
A steady stream of cries falls from her as she bucks and grinds those gorgeous hips.
I savor the slap of my fingers against the inside of her thighs and her soaked flesh.
With a hungry growl, I suck harder on her clit, flicking it with firm licks.
Thrusting my way high up into her, I curl my fingertips, stroking that smooth pad that draws a full-body shudder from her, as well as my name on the tail end of a scream.
Her cunt clamps down on me, and in the next moment, she showers me in cum.
Fuuuuck. It runs down my fingers, my knuckles, my hand, dripping onto my chin and neck.
How the fuck am I supposed to have normal sex again?
Return to other people after this sight?
After her goddamn bathing me? And I haven’t even had my dick inside her yet.
Her chest heaves, and finally, her body relaxes, though shivers continue to run through her. I lap at the residue of her cum, cleaning her thighs of all evidence of her orgasm. I’m so fucking hard, need to be in her so damn bad, I’m in physical pain. I want that—that rain shower of cum—on my cock.
As if the same thought claims her mind, she shifts backward until her pussy slides over my dick. The groan that escapes me is pained, greedy. Sweat dots her chest and throat, and unable to resist the lure of it, I swipe my hand over her slickened skin and lick the perspiration from my palm.
She mimics me, gliding her hand up the middle of my chest, up my throat, until she’s squeezing my jaw. Lowering over me, she whispers against my mouth.
“You gonna put that dick in me, Malachi?”
It’s an invitation. A challenge. And I’m more than ready to answer both.
“Eshe.” I call her name even though her lust-bright eyes are fixed on me.
Her breath ghosts over my lips, and my stomach cramps for another taste of her even though I just had my fill.
“I’ve never fucked without a condom, little queen,” I murmur, and it shouldn’t be possible, but her eyes gleam brighter with a fierce light.
One that says she likes what she just heard.
What did she say before? She claimed me as hers.
And though she doesn’t speak, her snarled mine echoes in my head.
I’ve never brought anyone to my places before.
Hotel rooms, alleys, bathrooms—but never where I lay my head, so there’s no reason to have condoms stashed here.
And I don’t have one on me. But even if I did …
Call me a stupid muthafucka, but I don’t want nothing separating her pussy from me. I’m already wearing her on my skin, and I want all of her. No barriers. At least not physically.
Her hand shoots out, circles my throat again as I did to her earlier. And her grip isn’t loose. It’s firm, threatening, constricting my air, and I can feel every pump of blood through my veins.
“Know who you’re fucking,” she softly warns, her overbright gaze roaming my face. After several seconds, she slides that hand to the nape of my neck. “Get inside me. Now.”
Anticipation surges, and a hot band loops around my lower back, pulling tight. Gliding my dick through her saturated folds, I get good and wet. My cockhead nudges her clit, and she bares her teeth at me, hissing.
Fuck.
Reaching behind my neck, I grasp her wrist and bring her hand to my mouth—her hand with the missing pinkie finger. Her eyes flare, and she tries to jerk her arm back, but my hold on her hand tightens.
I lower my head and brush my lips over the smooth patch of skin …
And drive inside her.
Her lips part on a silent scream, her head tipping back. I grind my teeth against the back draft of ecstasy that blasts through me.
Holy shit.
This pussy is fucking fire.
I still, all my muscles locking. I’m dying inside her.
Or being born again.
She’s so goddamn tight. So wet. So blistering hot.
I try to ask her if she’s good, tell her how fucking amazing she feels. But the clasp her pussy has on my cock is the same one lassoing my throat, my voice. I can’t speak. Can’t move. Can’t do anything but fucking feel.
And if I thought her silken, muscled clasp on my fingers was pure pleasure, wrapped around my dick, it’s euphoric. Her sex quivers around me, and it’s like tiny kisses over my flesh, sending electrical spasms down my legs, to the soles of my feet, and then back up.
“This pussy,” I grind out. “Goddamn.”
Releasing her hand, I study her face for any hint of discomfort. I spy lust in her hazel eyes, in the skin pulled taut over her cheekbones, in the parting of her swollen lips. But no distress. No pain.
Thank. Fuck.
I inhale a breath and wait … wait for her to move. To take me. Fuck me.
She spreads a hand around the base of my throat and flattens another on my chest. Eyes not leaving mine, she rises up, easing off my dick, and it practically screams in protest. Yeah, this pussy is that perfect, that …
comforting. When only my cockhead remains inside her, I restrain myself from impatiently thrusting upward, stretching her, branding her.
I want to mold her, break her in so only my dick will satisfy her.
Only with me will she feel whole, complete.
And maybe I’m fucking projecting.
Eshe sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and drops down my length, plunging me back inside her, and my mind and body damn near shatter with the exquisite pleasure.
With her eyes at half-mast, she rides me, taking me over and over.
Just like I wanted, like I needed. It requires every bit of restraint not to take over, to sublimate my urge to ram into her until I’m spinning into orgasm.
But more than an orgasm, I need her to take me there.
I hunger for her lead, her control, because in her hands, I’ve never felt … safer.
I shake my head, hard, as if I can physically dislodge that thought.
That ridiculous, dangerous thought. Grunting, I focus on my Eshe, on that silken grasp of her pussy, on the flex of her thighs, the slight tremble of her stomach, the fierce pleasure hardening her face.
I lower my gaze to where we connect, fascinated, fucking enraptured by the sight of my flesh shuttling in and out of her …
Watching her flesh welcoming me … seeing my length covered in the wetness I’m eliciting from her body …
it shoves me toward the edge, and I’m grabbing onto the shreds of my control, my sanity.
Eshe falls forward, her hands slapping against my shoulders, staring down at me. Her mouth works, and seconds later, a flash of silver appears on her lips. A razor. That’s what she went to the bathroom for.
My body clenches with anticipation, with hunger. I know what’s coming, and fuck, I crave it.
She bends her head over my chest, and it heaves up and down with my heavy breaths. The edge of the razor touches my skin but doesn’t pierce it. And she doesn’t move to cut me.
I know what she wants. And with my body strung as tight as a bow, my fucking bones damn near crying out for that dark sting, that bite, I surrender.
“Do it,” I snap. When she still doesn’t move, I growl. “Give it to me. Please.”
A low hum rumbles out of her, and in the next second, that sweet, hot pain sings through me. She cut me just under my collarbone. And before I can suck in a breath, she slices me again, right under the first.
I can’t contain my groan, don’t even try. She’s ripped me bare and shredded my pride. Fuck pride. I want more.
“More. More, goddammit.”
With another of those hums, she swipes the razor over my nipple, reopening the wound from days ago.
Pleasure-pain so hot, so bright, it nearly consumes me, tears through me, and I arch into it.
I clench my teeth to imprison the hoarse cry scrambling up my throat.
She’s slicing me and steadily fucking me, gloving me in that slick, searing heat.
It’s enough to break me, send me careening into insanity. And I’d welcome it.
Eshe plucks the razor from her lips and covers the seeping cut, sucking on it, rolling her tongue over it.
“Fuck.” I grab her hips and, unable to stop myself, slam up into her.
Her chuckle vibrates against my chest, and she lifts her head, mouth stained with my blood. Leaning forward, she kisses me, sharing my very essence with me, and I lick every drop from her lips and tongue. This is primal, maybe even sacrilegious.
And I fucking love it.
She straightens, then falls forward, curling her fingers around the wooden headboard and bowing her smaller frame over mine. With a feral snarl, she rides me, bruising our bodies as they crash together.
The room fills with the sounds of our wet skin smacking, the softer but equally erotic suction of her sex releasing and accepting me. Of her moans and my grunts. Our bodies are in combat, and neither of us is retreating. We’re both racing, battling, straining …
I reach up, tweak a large, distended nipple, then stroke lower, not stopping until I sweep a firm, tight circle around her clit. One. Two. Three swipes. Then I pinch it.
“Oh fuck.” Eshe screams, throwing her head back. The tendons in her neck stand out in sharp relief; her thighs tremble around my hips.
And she breaks.