Chapter 19
NINETEEN
LONDYN
Climbing into bed, Malcolm pulls me into his chest, arms locked like he’s holding back the whole damn world. I fall asleep tucked against the steady rise and fall of him, his breath warm against my hair.
For a while, it’s peaceful.
Then the screaming starts, scaring the living shit out of me.
Turning on the bedside lamp, I watch as he jerks in his sleep, body rigid, drenched in sweat. “Samir…!”
The name tears out of him, broken, and gutted.
He thrashes, eyes shut, lost somewhere I can’t reach.
“Malcolm,” I whisper, grabbing his face. “Night. Baby, wake up. It’s me. I’m here.”
But he doesn’t hear me. He’s back in that tunnel. Back in that moment that broke him.
“Samir, no… don’t… please, God, no!”
His voice cracks.
My heart does too.
“Malcolm! Please, wake up!” I say, leaning in close, cupping his cheeks.
His eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. He reaches for me like he’s drowning, pulling me against his chest.
“You’re here. You’re safe. It’s just me,” I promise against his skin, holding him tight,
Cupping the back of my neck, his fingertips dig in, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I hate that you saw that,” he says, his forehead pressing against mine. The shame in his voice… God, it breaks my heart in half.
“I’m glad I saw it,” I say. “Now I know what you’ve been carrying.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“You don’t,” I say, sliding closer, straddling his lap. “Not even a little.
His hands tighten at my hips, mouth close to mine, searching, desperate. “I need you to be safe,” he murmurs, voice raw. “I can’t let them...”
“It’s going to be okay, baby” I interrupt, pressing closer. “We’re going to be okay.”
And it’s like a spark ignites. His mouth crashes into mine, rough, and hungry, like he has to taste me to make sure I’m real. Dragging me closer, his rough hands roam over my back, causing me to shiver.
“Don’t leave me,” he growls against my lips, teeth grazing, voice hoarse.
“Never. I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him.
Something in him shifts… pain melts into need, desperation into heat, and it’s all consuming. His hands tighten around me, hips pressing, and every word he murmurs is fire in my veins.
“Lolo… promise me you’ll be careful.”
His voice isn’t soft. It’s scraped raw, like gravel dragged over concrete, hitting me low. Sliding my hand up, I fist a handful of his hair, pulling his face to mine so he can’t look away.
“I will,” I tell him, breath brushing his mouth. “I promise.”
We fall back into the sheets together, breathless and tangled, the world outside gone. Every kiss, every touch is sharp and urgent, yet slow and deliberate… like we’re learning each other all over again, exploring every scar, every curve, every shadow that makes us who we are.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands between kisses.
“I am,” I say, voice trembling, pulling him closer. “All of me.”
And when he finally pushes inside me, stretching me so fucking good, a groan drags out of his chest. It’s deep and rough, like something he’s been holding back has finally broken loose.
“Fuck… Lolo…”
My fingers dig into his shoulders as he sinks all the way in, filling me so achingly slow I arch beneath him.
“Malcolm…”
Then something shifts.
His rhythm turns punishing… desperate… like he’s trying to bury something in me, or dig himself out of something.
And God help me… I let him.
Because it isn’t just the way he moves, or how perfectly his body fits against mine.
It’s the ache in him.
The way his eyes lock on mine like I’m the only thing holding him together.
Malcolm uses me like I’m the method to his madness, every brutal thrust a reminder of who owns me, and I shamelessly beg him for more.
He’s not just fucking me… he’s wrecking me.
Spitting filth in my ear.
Dragging me deeper until I forget my own damn name.
“Promise me you’ll be safe,” he growls, slamming his hips into mine.
“I… promise…” I breathe, barely holding on.
I crave this destruction over and over again. He’s chasing away both of our demons, giving us a way out… just for tonight.
He makes me beg.
Makes me take every ruthless inch.
And the sickest part? I’ve never wanted anything more.
Every choke, every orgasm, every savage push of his body leaves me marked and wide open.
The grief, the anguish, his nightmares, mine… they all burn in the flames he’s dragging out of me.
“Fuck, Lolo. I’m gonna come…”
And he does.
Not with a shout or a shake, but with this quiet, guttural sound that comes from someplace deep inside him… a place he probably hasn’t let anyone touch in years.
He falls apart inside me… completely, shamelessly, and I feel all of it. The ruin, the hunger, the bone-deep need to be seen, claimed, and kept. He doesn’t hide it. Not from me. Not tonight.
I hold him as he comes undone, legs wrapped around him like I can keep him whole even as he falls apart. Losing himself in me feels like the only peace he’s ever known.
Then, it hits me…
I’m not just his safe place.
I’m his salvation.
And maybe… he’s mine too.