“Kiki, I need you to tell me if you want me to feel on you.”
I could tell Malakai was enjoying torturing me like this because of the slight curl of his mouth. I nipped his lip in vengeance, and his smile just became wickeder. “Feel in you. Because that’s what I want to do. I wanna feel how cute you think I am.”
I ground desperately against him, biting my lip, his words almost working as much magic as his hand was. My arms wound around his neck so I could drag him over me, his leg nestled between mine. I kissed and sucked his neck, my hands slowly massaging his chest, sweeping my fingers across his rock-hard nipples. Malakai released a low snarl and pulled back. “Nice try. Witch. Almost had me. You’re good. But that’s not an answer.”
Expecting me to speak when he was doing what he was doing to me might have been the only truly mean thing Malakai had ever done. I was just heart and nerve endings set alight. I felt exposed. Vocalizing the exact thing I needed him to do to me made me shy. Yet it was exciting, my need rubbing shoulders with my coyness, the tension challenging me to step up.
I slipped my arm from around his body so I could slowly spread and smooth my hand down my stomach. Malakai pulled back slightly and watched my hand’s journey, transfixed. It stopped when it reached the tropical junction between my legs, joining Malakai’s. His eyes jumped up to mine, blazing bright. Our gazes were still fixed on each other when my hand moved over his, taking it to slip it under the waistband of my panties, pressing his palm hard against me. Our breathing instantly became even more erratic, Malakai’s eyes a hypnotic black hole that held all my deepest, most desperate desires. His touch made a home in me.
Malakai’s voice was gravelly with tension. “Showing me works too.”
I released a gust of a giggle. “Do you think you can take over from here?”
“I got you.” Malakai’s smile was roguish delight and he kissed me hungrily as he gently pushed a finger inside me. I immediately gasped and bucked, the delicious sensation ricocheting throughout my body, tip to toe. He was agonizingly slow with it, making me coil up with exquisite tension. He was doing it on purpose, I knew, because he drew back, eyes glinting mischievously.
I managed to choke out, strained, “Dick. Petty.”
Malakai’s smile broadened and he welcomely slid two more fingers in, varying the pace, pressure, and depth, making my hands fly to his back, sink my nails in, making his name a mew of anguished bliss. “Kai—”
When he spoke, his voice was husky with frustration. “Do you know what you do to me when you say my name like that, Scotch?” Which, of course, made me grind up against his hand more. If it was anything like the way I felt when he called me Scotch then I was basically deific.
I arched my back and bent my arm to unclasp my bra so his hand could do what it was doing with no restrictions. His free hand travelled and explored the newly exposed territories, caressing, tweaking, acute and thorough in the pleasure. It was glorious torment. I slung a leg across his waist and writhed against him. His smile melted into something more tense, focused, arousing. Aroused.
I was moving chaotically against him as his fingers increased in pace, conjured tides, stretched me delightfully. He looked so good and so sweet in the dim lamp lighting, the muted gold marrying into his dark skin that I kissed him harder, even more messily, wanting to taste as much as I could. Malakai pulled away only so he could cover a nipple with his mouth, lapping me up, hungry, grazing with his teeth.
“You. Taste. So. Good.” Each word was punctuated with a punishingly pleasurable hard suck.
“More.”
A menacing grin against my skin. “More, who?”
“Kai.”
His mouth did the same on the other breast, continuing his heavenly censure, while his hand took over the other one, making sure there was no neglect, conscientious in his caressing. I was losing my mind. There was no time, no space to be embarrassed. I just wanted to feel, let my feelings be noisy. I’d spent so long hushing, ignoring them. His lips moved to sear the skin between my breasts, then my stomach, soft, sweet, scorching, embossing his lips across me, down, down, down, till he stopped—his eyes flying to mine in question.
“Keep going.”
He gently nudged my thighs further apart with his face and kissed the soft flesh on my right and left. He was deliberate with it, left enough space between kisses for me to start to get indignant, impatient, before he was back on me again. He pressed his lips against me through the thin material of my lacy briefs, the heat of his mouth making me buck, before he looped his fingers through my waistband. I arched, helped him move my panties down my thighs. Then, finally, finally, all my nerve endings standing up in applause, his mouth replaced his fingers, the transition smooth, his tongue swirling and thrusting expertly, hungrily inside me, until my hand was spread across his head, moving frenetically against him. Malakai was a lion’s snarl of delight, his mouth pushing warm winds that forced my teeth to sink into my bottom lip. He was starvation coming home to a banquet.