Chapter 119: Chapter 119 - Lost (R)
Malcolm rose slowly from the sofa, every movement controlled, letting her watch. The dim lamplight carved shadows across his chest and the ridges of his abdomen, the sharp V disappearing beneath the waistband he was already shoving down.
He kicked his pants aside, boxers following, and stood naked before her, broad shoulders, thick thighs, his cock still rigid and glistening from her mouth, veins standing out like cords beneath flushed skin.
Iyisha bit her lower lip until she tasted copper, her eyes drinking him in. The power coiled in his frame was unmistakable, the way his erection bobbed faintly with each heartbeat, the sharp contrast between his fair skin and the heat rolling off him.
He did not speak.
He did not need to.
He stepped between her spread thighs, one knee sinking into the cushion beside her hip. His hand wrapped around the base of himself, guiding the swollen head to her entrance.
She was soaked, dripping from his tongue and from her own fingers earlier, but the sheer girth still stole her breath. He pressed forward slowly, just the blunt tip breaching her.
A long, broken groan tore from her throat. Her walls fluttered, still tender from their last time, still not quite accustomed to how wide he stretched her. Malcolm’s jaw clenched, his eyes closing for a brief second as the heat of her swallowed the first thick inch.
"Fuck," he rasped. "So tight."
He did not rush. Inch by torturous inch he fed himself inside her, watching her face the entire time, the way her lips parted, her brows pinched, the way her nails dug into his forearms. The stretching sting was still there. She had healed from the last time, but her body was not yet used to being filled like this.
When he finally stopped, she felt impossibly full, yet knew he was still not completely inside. She could feel every pulse of him deep within her, the heavy throb matching her racing heartbeat.
Then he moved.
Hard.
Deep.
Relentless.
Each thrust rocked her back into the cushions, the sofa creaking beneath them. She wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper, faster. She looked at him, their eyes locking, as his hand reached for her aching breast, tweaking it gently as he moved.
"Does it hurt too much?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head, even though there was still a faint sting.
He pushed in harder, and her gasp tore free, her head falling back in helpless ecstasy.
"Malcolm." She moaned.
Without warning, he pulled out completely, and her whine slipped out at the sudden emptiness before she could stop it. Strong hands flipped her over before she could protest, and she scrambled to brace herself, fingers curling around the padded armrest, her body lifting instinctively.
Malcolm knelt behind her, his hands settling on her ass, not rough at first, just there, slow and deliberate, grounding her. One palm pressed between her shoulder blades to keep her down while the other guided himself back to her entrance, sliding up and down, teasing, making her ache for what he was holding back.
Then he drove into her in one brutal stroke.
Her cry tore free, the angle sharper, deeper, stealing the breath from her lungs. He groaned low, hips snapping forward again and again, control thinning with every thrust.
"Goddamn, Iyisha," he said, strained. "Still so tight around me."
"You’re so big," she gasped, the words breaking apart as they left her. "Filling me. So full. Malcolm."
His hands tightened on her ass, kneading firmly before spreading her wider so he could watch himself disappear inside her again and again. His thumbs dug into the soft flesh until heat bloomed under his grip.
"Slap me," she moaned, the plea tumbling out before she could think.
She had never asked for that before. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it, but with the drugs humming through her veins, everything blurred into need. He slowed for a beat, like the request had caught him off guard.
Then the sting landed.
She jolted, her muscles clamping hard around him, the sensation sharp and electric.
"Like that," he growled.
Another slap followed, harder, drawing a gasp from her as she pushed back to meet his next thrust. Her moan grew louder, more desperate.
"Harder."
He obliged. His palm cracked against her again and again, alternating sides until both cheeks burned and throbbed. Each strike made her clench tighter, slicker. She reached between her thighs, fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing frantic, messy circles.
"Harder," she begged, wrecked. "Please."
He flipped her again effortlessly, hooking one leg over his shoulder, opening her wide. The new angle drove him impossibly deep, stealing the sound from her chest.
"Aaah," she moaned.
She stared up at him, dazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, her hand working herself desperately as he pounded into her.
She was so close. So close.
Her climax hit without warning, violent and overwhelming. Her back arched off the sofa as a raw cry ripped from her throat, her body pulsing around him in tight, helpless waves.
He did not slow. He drove through it, drawing it out until she shook, oversensitive and gasping, every nerve lit and burning.
He leaned down and crushed his mouth to hers, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, the kiss messy and consuming before he pulled back just enough to breathe. He lifted her other leg slowly this time, folding her nearly in half, holding her there, letting the position settle, letting her feel how exposed it left her before he moved again. His hand slid to her throat, not squeezing, just holding, fingers firm, steady, resting against the frantic flutter of her pulse.
Her eyes widened as her breath turned shallow, every nerve suddenly too aware.
"Nggn," she moaned as he eased forward, not all at once, but gradually, letting her feel the stretch build. He pressed deeper inch by inch, paused, then pressed again, waiting as her body resisted and then softened, flushed tight around him as she finally took all of him.
The fullness stole the air from her lungs. It felt overwhelming, dizzying, like she could feel him everywhere at once, deep enough that her body had to rearrange itself around him.
His lips curved slightly at her stunned expression, and only then did he begin to move. Not fast. Not yet. His hips rolled forward slowly, pulling almost all the way back before sinking in again, controlled, deliberate, making her feel every inch leave and return. His thumbs stayed lightly at her throat, grounding her there, while her own hands slid to her breasts, pinching and twisting as sensation piled on sensation.
The pressure built steadily, unbearably, each slow thrust heavier than the last. She felt him thicken inside her, the change unmistakable, the warning clear.
"Come with me," he growled. "Let me feel you."
Her climax tore through her in a blinding wave, her cry breaking loose as her body seized around him. Her nails raked down his arms as she shook, muscles clenching hard with each pulse.
"Iyisha," he groaned, thrusting deep and holding there as he came, heat flooding her in heavy, drawn out pulses.
He stayed inside her, unmoving, letting the aftershocks pass through both of them, his breath rough against her neck, his grip steady until her trembling eased.
When he finally pulled free, he did it slowly, carefully, and warmth followed, making her whimper as her thighs quivered, oversensitive and weak.
Malcolm did not let her rest.
He lifted her easily and sat back on the sofa, settling her astride his lap. Her knees sank into the cushions, her legs shaking, barely able to hold her weight as his hands closed around her hips.
"Are we not done?" she murmured, voice thin, exhausted.
"No," he said quietly.
He lined himself up again and let her sink at her own pace. He did not move her. He did not rush her. He stayed still while gravity pulled her down slowly, inch by thick inch, making her feel every part of him as she lowered herself, her body adjusting little by little until she finally took all of him and bottomed out, fully seated, breath leaving her in a shaky exhale.
She slumped forward immediately, her forehead dropping to his shoulder, her body heavy and spent, breath coming in shallow pulls as she tried to steady herself.
He held her there.
Not moving.
Not lifting.
Just letting her feel the weight of it, the fullness, the way her body clung to him as if it needed the pause.
Only when her breathing evened slightly did his hands tighten at her waist. He lifted her just a fraction, barely enough to ease the pressure, then let her sink back down slowly, controlled, measured.
Again.
Just a little higher.
Just a little slower.
He let her settle fully each time before moving again, drawing it out, letting the rhythm build naturally instead of forcing it. Gradually the motion deepened, his grip firmer, the rise and fall heavier, until the pace began to change without words.
"Malcolm—" She said breathless as her eyes roll in the pleasure invading her body.
The sound filled the room, wet and steady, no longer frantic but relentless in its own way. Her body moved with his now, no resistance left, only broken sounds against his throat as she clung to him, teeth biting into his shoulder when the pleasure crept back, slow and inevitable.
His growl vibrated against her as his grip turned bruising, the movement growing heavier, deeper, until he drove her down and held her there, unmoving, as he came again, the heat flooding through her while she shuddered in his arms.
She moaned helplessly as she shattered with him, another release tearing through her, leaving her shaking and empty.
They stayed locked together, trembling, breath slowly evening out.
Very slowly, he eased her up just enough to slip free, warmth spilling down her thighs. She groaned softly, utterly spent.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.
"Still with me?" he murmured.
She nodded faintly against his shoulder, a dazed smile touching her lips as her eyelids finally slid shut, her body giving in to exhaustion while he held her steady and the world faded out.
