CHAPTER 39: CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Chapter thirty-nine

Alicia’s POV

Content Warning: What unfolds here isn’t gentle. It’s hunger, power, and surrender tangled in the dark. Read at your own risk.

☆☆

The kiss wasn’t gentle. Malachi’s mouth crashed against mine, a demand not a request. My back was still jammed hard against the cool, unyielding wood of the door. His body pressed me there, a solid wall of heat and intent, leaving no space for escape, not that my legs felt capable of it. They were already hooked weakly around his waist, my thin summer dress rucked up around my hips.

I should leave. The thought was an alarm bell clanging somewhere in the back of my mind.

He’s your brother-in-law. Travis’s brother.This is poison. But Travis wasn’t here, pressing me against the door with the weight of sin. Malachi was.

His hands moved. Big, warm palms slid under the flimsy cotton of my dress, fingers spreading possessively over the bare skin of my thighs. The sudden contact, skin on skin, sent a violent jolt through me. His touch was rough, scraping deliciously against my softness. He squeezed, fingers digging into the yielding flesh just above my knees, then higher, sliding towards the spot where thigh met hip. A low groan vibrated in his chest, muffled against my mouth. The friction of his pants against the thin lace of my panties was maddening.

"Fuck, Alicia," he growled, tearing his mouth from mine just long enough to rasp the words against the damp skin of my neck. His breath was hot. "Knew you’d feel like this. Soft... fuckin’ perfect." His thumbs stroked small, rough circles high on my inner thighs, just brushing the edge of the lace.

I should push him away. I should scream. Instead, a broken little moan escaped my lips. My head thudded back against the door, eyes fluttering shut. "Mal... Malachi... we... we can’t..." The words were thick. My fingers, which should have been pushing at his shoulders, tangled weakly in the coarse fabric of his shirt.

He laughed then, a low, dark rumble that seemed to come from deep within his chest. "Can’t?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot below my ear, making my gasp and arch instinctively against him, grinding myself onto the hard ridge she could feel pressing insistently against my core through our clothes. "Who?" His voice dripped with a contempt that was almost tangible.

"You’re perfect."

He said. "Beautiful. Strong. A goddess I worship."

One hand left my thigh to fist in my hair, not painfully, but firmly, forcing my head back to meet his gaze. "And you want this. Feel how fuckin’ wet you are for me already."

It was true. Shameful, undeniable truth. The heat between my legs was a traitorous flood, soaking the lace of my panties. I could feel it, sticky and warm against my skin. He felt it too; his fingers abandoned my hair to plunge back beneath my dress, sliding upwards this time. One blunt fingertip traced the edge of my underwear, pressing lightly against the soaked fabric where it covered my core. "Christ," he breathed with satisfaction. "Drippin’."

I whimpered. My resistance crumbled like wet paper. "Please..." I whispered, not even sure what I was begging for— stop or more.

He didn’t stop. He shifted his weight, easily lifting me higher against the door with one arm banded around my waist, keeping my legs locked around him. The movement made my dizzy. With his free hand, he found the flimsy strap of my dress at my shoulder and yanked it down roughly, baring one breast to the cool air and his hot gaze. His mouth descended immediately, closing over the peak with greedy suction. Not gentle. Not asking.

The sensation was electric, shattering what little coherence she had left. A ragged cry tore from my throat, half pain, half blinding pleasure. I writhed against him, my hips grinding desperately against the hard length trapped behind his zipper. My fingers scrabbled at his shoulders, clawing for release in the fabric.

He released my breast with a wet pop and lifted his head. His eyes were wild now, dark with an almost feral intensity. "Door’s too fuckin’ hard," he grunted.

He didn’t wait for agreement. He just moved, carrying me away from the door as easily as if I weighed nothing. .

He strode to the large bed. I bounced slightly, blinking up at him as he stood at the edge of the bed, towering over me in the gloom.

He looked predatory. His shirt was open halfway down his chest, revealing hard muscle. His breathing was heavy, his gaze fixed on my sprawled form— one strap still down, breast bared and peaked from his mouth, dress shoved up around my waist, legs parted and trembling, panties dark with arousal.

"Look at you," he murmured. He braced one knee on the mattress near my hip, leaning over me. His hand returned to my inner thigh, higher this time, fingertips skating over the delicate lace edge of my underwear. "Just waitin’ to be ruined."

He hooked his fingers into the fragile lace and ripped them down my legs in one brutal motion. The tearing sound was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Cool air hit my exposed core, making me gasp and instinctively try to close my legs. He stopped me easily, planting a hand firmly on each inner thigh and spreading them wide apart, exposing me completely.

I was laid bare beneath him. The intimacy of it was terrifying, exhilarating. "Malachi..." I breathed, the name a ragged plea on my lips.

He didn’t speak. He just looked. His gaze burned a path over my trembling stomach, my breasts, finally fixing on the center of my spread legs. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then he moved between my thighs, pushing them impossibly wider as he knelt on the bed. His own belt buckle clanked as he roughly unfastened it, yanked down his zipper, and shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself.

I stared, my breath catching in my throat. He was thick and hard and intimidatingly large in the dimness, flushed dark at the tip already wet with moisture. The reality of it— of what was about to happen— cut through some of the haze. Fear filled with desperate need.

He didn’t give me time to think. He leaned forward, one hand braced near my shoulder, the other guiding himself. The blunt head of his cock pressed against my entrance, slick with my wetness. He paused for only a heartbeat, his eyes locking onto mine. His gaze was intense, unblinking.

"Still with me?" His voice was guttural.

I couldn’t form words. my mind screamed no. my body arched up off the bed towards him. A tiny, broken moan escaped my— "Yes... god... please..." —the sinful words slipped from my lips.

He thrust forward. Not slow, not gentle. A single, powerful surge that buried him deep inside me in one relentless stroke.

The invasion was shocking, brutal in its completeness. A sharp cry ripped from my throat— a sound torn between pain and blinding pleasure as he stretched my impossibly wide, filling me completely. I felt stuffed. He groaned above me, a raw sound of satisfaction that vibrated through his chest and into mine.

"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, his hips flush against mine for a moment, letting me feel every hard inch buried to the hilt. "Tight... so fuckin’ tight... like a goddamn fist."

He didn’t wait for me to adjust. He pulled back almost completely, leaving only the thick head inside my stretched entrance before slamming back in with the same driving force. The friction was intense, almost too much, but the slickness eased the path and each brutal thrust ignited sparks along my nerves.

my hands flew to his back, nails digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt as if clinging to a lifeline on a storm-tossed sea. My arched with every powerful surge of his hips. Whimpers and sharp gasps fell from my lips unchecked— "Ah! Ah! God! Malachi!" — each thrust punching the breath from my lungs and forcing sounds I didn’t recognize out of myself.

He fucked my with a focused intensity that bordered on violence. His rhythm was hard and fast, unrelenting. The bedframe groaned in protest with each powerful drive of his hips against mine. The air filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, our ragged breaths mingling with guttural groans and my high-pitched cries.

One big hand released its grip on my thigh to roughly palm my bare breast, squeezing hard before pinching the nipple sharply between thumb and forefinger. The jolt of pain-pleasure made my arch violently and cry out again.

"Knew you were like this," he grunted above me, his voice strained with effort and lust as he pistoned into me relentlessly. Sweat plastered dark hair to his forehead. "Underneath all that... good girl shit..." He punctuated each phrase with a punishing thrust that drove me deeper into the yielding mattress.

Every deep stroke scraped against a spot inside that sent white-hot lightning through my veins. My earlier protestations felt like ash in my mouth. My hips lifted now to meet his downward drives, seeking more of that devastating friction. The silk duvet bunched beneath my back as I writhed.

His thumb found the tight bundle of nerves above where they were joined and pressed down hard in rough circles.

That was it.

A scream tore from my throat— wordless and raw—as a climax went through my body like a shockwave. My back arched off the bed as intense spasms gripped my inner walls around his thrusting cock. Stars exploded behind my clenched eyelids. My vision whited out completely as wave after wave of blinding pleasure obliterated every thought except sensation: the brutal fullness inside me, the rough drag of his cock triggering aftershocks as he kept pistoning ruthlessly into my convulsing flesh.

"Shit! Fuck!" Malachi snarled as I clamped down on him violently mid-thrust. His movements became even more frantic, losing any semblance of rhythm, turning into short, hard jerks that buried him impossibly deep with each snap of his hips.

He slammed home one final time as his weight collapsed onto me then, crushing me into the rumpled silk, his breath coming in ragged gasps against the sweaty hollow of my throat where he buried his face for a moment. The only sounds were our harsh breathing and the pounding of blood in my ears.