Chapter 35 #2
He didn’t rush. Every strap, every buckle of my harness he undid with deliberate care, tossing each piece to the sandbank without breaking eye contact.
“Slow,” he murmured, dragging the word out as he peeled my soaked shirt over my head, until the night air kissed my bare skin and his touch against it felt like sparks.
“Perfect,” he said softly, and the word made my chest ache with something I couldn’t name.
Then he stripped off his own shirt, water beading over muscle, every sharp line catching the moonlight. “But more importantly… I’m hungry.”
He lifted me with ease, settling me on top of the rock, legs hooked around his hips. The water lapped coolly at my wet leather pants, a sharp contrast to the molten heat building between us.
“Didn’t you get enough?” I asked.
“I wasn’t talking about your blood,” he said, voice low, amused. “But you like it when I bite you, don’t you?”
I bit my lip, refusing to answer, and that earned me a dark chuckle.
“You don’t have to say it.” He dragged his mouth along my throat, his teeth scraping just enough to make me shiver. “I can feel it every time I touch you.”
My fingers curled in his hair, half-intending to pull him closer, half to push him away, but he only chuckled and nipped at my collarbone, his tongue soothing the sting.
“Always so aggressive,” he murmured, his hand hooking into the waistband of my soaked trousers, tugging enough to make me gasp.
I squirmed, but not to resist, instead helping by lifting my hips as he peeled the fabric away from my skin. The lake water made it slick, and he took his time, dragging it down inch by agonizing inch until I was bare in his lap, shivering under the moonlight.
His gaze dragged over me, slow and hungry, until I burned hotter than any flame I’d ever conjured.
“Kiss me,” I demanded, and he tilted forward, his lips brushing against mine. As I leaned in for more, he pulled back an inch. I glared at him, and he revelled in it, his grin sharpening, delighted. He curved away to strip the last of his clothes away before sinking back into the water with me.
Gods.
The sight of him stole what little breath I had left, all muscle, sharp lines and the faintly glowing red marks across his chest. I stroked his body, feeling him, learning every curve of him as I placed my lips against his collarbone.
“Fuck…” he said, reverent this time, his hands sliding up my thighs, spreading me wider across his lap. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Then show me,” I dared, breathless.
I burned under his gaze, but I didn’t look away, not even when he caught my breast in his mouth, licking lazy circles around my nipple. When another groan left him, my head finally fell back against the stone, arching into him, my body silently pleading for more.
His hand grabbed my chin, yanking me back.
“Pay attention, sweetie,” he purred against my lips, as his fingers slid over my bare skin; the touch barely there, yet it drove me mad.
Then, he caressed between my thighs, stroking at my core.
My body betrayed me, arching into his every stroke, craving it.
I had to fight against surrendering to it, hauling myself up as I reached for him.
At first, my fingers stroke teasingly, making his hardened length twitch in response as a divine groan left him.
“I’ll tame your flames so that every time you burn, you’ll remember who lit the spark.”
Embers flared around my skin, his strokes creating warmth throughout my body, sending a pulse of ecstasy along every touch.
There was nothing left to keep us apart.
He hauled me forward, positioning me exactly where he wanted, his grip firm but not rough, guiding me until I was straddling him again.
“You’re going to hold onto me,” he said, his tone not asking, but commanding. “Understand?”
I nodded, breathless, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Good girl.”
His words had heat knotting itself in my lower stomach, and then he pressed into me, slow and unrelenting, stretching me until I could do nothing but cling to him.
My head fell onto his shoulder as a low moan slipped from my mouth. His hand slid to the back of my neck, guiding me to his lips as he claimed mine once more, the taste of him consuming me. I could feel him everywhere as his hands shifted, clutching each side of my hips, pressing harder into me.
“Look at you,” he murmured, praise in his tone now, his lips brushing along my jaw. “Taking me so well.”
The water rocked around us as he began to move, slow at first, deliberate, teasing, until my breath came in short, broken sounds, until I was the one rocking against him, chasing for more.
“Beg me,” he whispered against my ear, his grin wicked.
“I need—”
“Louder,” he cut me off, voice firm, non-negotiable.
“I want all of you,” I yielded, while my nails dug into his shoulders, punishing him for it. “Ruin me.”
That was all it took. His pace shifted, hard and deep, every thrust making the rock at my back dig into my skin, but I didn’t care. I was completely lost to the rhythm of him, the heat and the water and the way he was somehow everywhere at once.
His mouth found mine again, devouring, drinking every sound I made. A firm hand traced my spine, holding me upright or perhaps shielding me from the rock, the other gripping my hip so tight I knew I’d bear the mark tomorrow.
“Say my name,” he breathed against my lips, wild and ragged.
It tore out of me, raw and broken. “Malakai.”
His lips curved, dark satisfaction in his eyes as he drove in once quick, pulling out slowly, making me ache. “Again.”
I clung to him, trembling, undone. “Malakai!”
His mouth claimed mine again, voice rough between kisses. “Good. I want it carved into you, so that every time you say or hear my name, this is what you feel.”
He drove into me harder, faster, until I was trembling in his grip, my teeth biting into his shoulder, the world splintering around me.
When I shattered, my flames burst around us and he was right there with me, holding me so tight it almost hurt, his own breath ragged against my neck as he spilled every last ounce of his restraint into the moment.
For a long time, we stayed like that against the rock, tangled together in the cooling water, moonlight painting silver over sweat-slick skin, his chest rising and falling against mine, his red marks glowing brighter than ever before.
Instead of fearing it, I felt a strange sensation of power, knowing his control had slipped because of me.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, rough but warm.
“Try to run from me,” he murmured, “and I’ll drag you back. Every. Time.”
And despite everything, I laughed, weak, breathless, but real, because I knew he meant it.