Chapter 176: Chapter 176 - Iyisha’s Agency (R)
Iyisha’s chest still heaved, but the fire in her eyes had dulled to something quieter, more resigned. She looked down at him, really looked, and the truth settled heavy in her gut.
No matter what she screamed, no matter how hard she pushed or pulled or begged with her body, nothing would change unless Malcolm wanted it to.
He was the one with the power here. He always had been.
The realization stung, but it also loosened something tight inside her chest.
She reached out slowly, her fingertips brushing the smooth plane of his cheek. Freshly shaved again. No stubble tonight, just warm, clean skin that made her palm tingle. She traced the line of his jaw anyway, her thumb grazing the spot where rough would have scratched if he had let it grow.
Why did she even care? He could walk out that door right now, go to whoever, do whatever. And she could too. They were not chained. They were not anything.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. She wanted to kiss him so badly her lips ached with it.
The chance was too dangerous. Too real. She would not do it. She could not.
Instead, her hand slid lower, her palm flattening over the hard plane of his chest. She flicked her thumb across one flat nipple once, twice, watching it pebble under her touch.
Malcolm stayed silent, but his breath hitched just barely.
Her fingers continued their path, mapping the ridges of his abs. They tightened under her palm, the muscles flexing involuntarily. When her hand dipped lower toward the waistband of his boxers, he caught her wrist. Firm, not rough.
"Iyisha," he rasped, his voice dark and gravel rough.
The word hung there, heavy and unfinished. His throat worked as he swallowed. His eyes were black now, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling in short, controlled bursts.
She waited.
She did not pull away.
She did not speak.
She just stared at him, daring him to stop her.
After a long beat, his fingers loosened.
He let her go.
Her hand drifted to the side of his thigh instead, over the inner muscle and sensitive skin. Malcolm moaned low in his throat, his hips jerking up once, sharp.
Her eyes flicked down.
His cock strained obscenely against the front of his boxers. Thick and rigid, the head outlined clearly through the damp cotton, a dark wet spot blooming at the tip.
Iyisha crawled between his spread legs, settling on her knees. She kept her gaze locked on his face.
"You told me I can fuck any man I want," she said softly, her voice steady now.
Malcolm stiffened beneath her, his jaw clenching.
"But let me tell you something."
She leaned in, her palms sliding up his thighs until her fingers cupped him through the fabric, warm, heavy, pulsing.
"This," she said quietly, "this is mine."
He closed his eyes on a rough exhale, his hips lifting into her touch. A low, broken moan rumbled out of him.
"Only mine," she whispered, squeezing gently. "Understand?"
He was so hard it looked painful, veins standing out, the head flushed dark and slick. Her hand traveled the full length of him over the cotton, slow drags from base to tip.
When she reached the head, she hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged the boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free. It bent for a second, then popped up, slapping against his stomach before standing rigid again.
Malcolm’s hand clamped down on the sheets beside him, his knuckles white.
Iyisha blew a soft stream of air across the glistening tip. It bobbed and twitched hard, another bead of pre cum welling up.
She wrapped her fingers around him and gave a tight, slow pump from root to crown.
"This is all mine," she breathed.
Her thumb swirled over the slick head on every upstroke, spreading the wetness down his shaft. She teased him mercilessly with long, deliberate strokes, twisting at the top and squeezing just under the ridge until his hips rolled up helplessly, chasing her hand.
She wanted to taste him. God, she wanted to wrap her lips around him and suck until he forgot his own name.
But she could not.
She would not risk it.
Instead, she gathered the steady drip of pre cum on her fingertip, brought it to her mouth, and sucked it clean, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving his.
Malcolm groaned deep in his throat, his cock jerking violently in her grip the second her tongue touched her finger.
"Fuck."
She smiled, small and wicked, and went back to stroking him, faster now, slick sounds filling the quiet room. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently while she worked his length with steady, twisting pulls.
Then she reached for the hem of her shirt and peeled it off in one smooth motion.
Her breasts spilled free, heavy and full, her nipples already tight and dark. Lucia might have big ones, but so did she.
And these were the ones he was looking at right now.
She pulled his legs toward the edge of the bed until his feet hit the floor. Then she knelt between them on the carpet, her breasts brushing the insides of his thighs.
Malcolm moved fast. His hand slid into her hair, his fingers curling at the nape of her neck as he tugged her up, urgent, his mouth crashing toward hers.
She stopped it with a finger between them.
"We cannot," she said, her voice cracking.
He froze.
Every muscle locked.
It looked like it physically hurt him to stop. His chest heaved, his eyes wild, but he did.
He let her go, his hand falling away.
Iyisha sank back to her knees.
She stopped for a moment. She had never tried this. She had never even thought about it until Mary mentioned it once.
But now she wanted to.
She cupped her breasts, pushed them together, and leaned forward.
His cock slid between them, hot and slick and velvet hard. She squeezed her arms tight, creating perfect soft pressure, then began to move.
Slow glides up and down his length.
The head peeked out between her cleavage on every upstroke.
Malcolm’s head fell back against the pillow. A guttural sound tore from his throat, half moan, half curse.
His hips rolled up to meet her, shallow thrusts dragging him through the warm valley of her breasts. Pre cum smeared across her skin, making every slide wetter, slicker.
She kept the rhythm steady, tightening on the downstroke and loosening just enough on the upstroke so he felt every inch of friction.
Her own thighs were soaked, her clit throbbing in time with his ragged breathing, but she did not touch herself.
This was for him.
To remind him.
His hand found her hair again. Not pulling this time, just holding on like he needed an anchor.
"Iyisha."
Her name came out wrecked.
She sped up just a little.
She watched his abs clench. Watched the flush crawl up his neck.
He came hard.
His back arched off the bed, a low groan ripping out of him as thick ropes spilled across her chest and throat, dripping hot down between her breasts. His cock pulsed in the tight channel she had made, jerking with every wave until he was spent and trembling.
Iyisha slowed her movements, milking the last shudders from him with gentle squeezes of her breasts.
When he finally stilled, she released him carefully, watching his length still hard against his stomach, glistening.
She stayed on her knees for a moment longer, breathing hard, her skin sticky and warm with him. His release still glistened across her chest, dripping slow and hot between her breasts. The air smelled like sex and salt and them.
Malcolm’s eyes opened. Dark and heavy lidded, something raw and unguarded flickering in the depths.
His voice came out low and wrecked.
"Let me taste you."
Iyisha shook her head once.
Sharp.
Final.
For once she felt powerful. In control. Like the balance had finally tipped, even if only for this heartbeat.
She dragged two fingers through the mess he had left on her skin, thick and warm, then brought them to her mouth.
Slow.
Deliberate.
She sucked them clean, her tongue curling around her fingertips, her eyes locked on his.
Malcolm growled low and animal, his chest rumbling with it. His cock, still half hard against his stomach, twitched visibly at the sight.
She did not break eye contact.
Her hand slid down her body, over the sticky trail on her sternum and across her stomach before dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts.
She was soaked through the fabric already, her clit swollen and throbbing from the friction alone. Her fingers found her entrance, slippery and greedy, and she pushed two inside herself with a soft wet sound.
Malcolm’s breath caught.
His gaze dropped to where her hand moved beneath the cotton, then flicked back up to her face.
Hungry.
Helpless.
Iyisha stood slowly.
She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her shorts and peeled them down her legs, kicking them aside.
Naked now, she stood in front of him, her legs slightly apart, her breasts still marked with him, her nipples tight from the cool air and the heat in his stare.
She lifted one leg and planted her foot on the edge of the mattress beside his hip.
The position opened her completely.
Pink, glistening folds on full display.
Her fingers slid back inside, three this time, curling deep while her thumb circled her clit in tight frantic strokes.
His eyes devoured her.
Dark.
Unblinking.
His jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek.
She was close already. She had been close since the moment she felt him pulse between her breasts.
His stare pushed her higher.
The way he watched her like he was starving.
Like she was the only thing that could feed him.
Her hips rocked forward into her own hand, her breaths coming in short sharp pants.
"Fuck."
The word tore out of her, quiet but broken.
Her inner walls clenched hard around her fingers as she came, shuddering, her thighs trembling, a low moan spilling from her lips.
Wetness coated her hand and dripped down her wrist.
She kept moving through it, slow and steady, milking every last pulse until her leg gave out and she lowered it back to the floor.
Breathing ragged, she knelt again between his legs.
Malcolm waited.
His cock was fully hard once more, flushed dark and leaking steadily at the tip, veins standing out like he had never softened at all.
Her palm wrapped around him.
He shuddered violently at the first touch.
His whole body jerked like he had been shocked.
She gave him five slow, firm pumps from base to tip, twisting lightly at the head and spreading the fresh pre cum down his length until he glistened.
Then she stopped.
She smiled at him.
Small.
Satisfied.
A little cruel.
His cock stood rigid between them, bobbing with every heartbeat.
Waiting.
Aching.
Iyisha rose to her feet again.
Without a word she turned and walked toward the bathroom, her hips swaying just enough to make sure he watched every step. The sticky warmth of his cum still clung to her skin. She could feel it cooling and tightening.
She paused in the doorway and glanced back over her shoulder.
"If you want us to stop," she said quietly, her voice steady now, "then we stop. Right here."
She did not wait for an answer.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind her.
He was free.
Free to leave tonight.
Free to chase someone else.
Free to do whatever the hell he wanted.
And for the first time tonight, that thought did not burn her alive.
It just was.
She turned on the shower, let the steam fill the small space, and stepped under the spray, washing him off her skin and letting the hot water rinse away the evidence of what they had just done.
But she knew, deep down in the quiet part of her that still ached.
He was not going anywhere.
