Page 40 of Toxic B!tch
I bite my lip as I consider his question. It’s not something I’ve ever really thought about before. In the past, relationships were always about control and possession—about owning someone else. But with Malik, it feels different.
“To me,” I begin carefully, “it means that you are someone I want to protect and keep safe.” I pause, trying to find the right words. “But it also means that I trust you enough to let you see all of me—the good and the bad—and still choose to be with me.”
His eyes soften at my words, and I can tell they mean something to him. “I feel the same way about you,” he says quietly. “You’re mine too.”
There’s an unspoken understanding between us now—a mutual declaration of love and commitment without actually saying the words out loud.
His gaze deepens, and I can feel the air around us thickening with something electric. The weight of our confessions hangs in the space, a tangible bond that draws us closer. I tilt my head slightly, closing the distance between us as I press my lips to his.
I can taste the faint remnants of whiskey on his tongue. I deepen the kiss, sliding my hands up his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. My nails skim lightly along the back of his head, and he responds with a low growl that vibrates through me, awakening something primal within. Our breaths mingle as we lose ourselves in each other.
I whisper, feeling bold yet vulnerable all at once. “I want you.”
He nods slowly, his expression shifting to one of hunger mixed with reverence. “Then let’s take our time,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb across my cheek as if memorizing every detail of my face.
With deliberate slowness, he leads me to my room and lays me back against the plush sheets of my bed, his body hovering above mine like an ancient protector. The way he looks at me makes my heart race—there's no judgment in those eyes, only an invitation to explore each other.
He kisses me again; this time deeper, more languid as he takes his time tracing every curve of my mouth with his tongue. My skin begins to tingle under his touch as he moves down my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone that send waves of pleasure coursing through me.
“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against my skin, his voice thick with need.
“I want you to make love to me,” I reply breathily, feeling emboldened by the raw honesty between us.
His gaze darkens, and he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes before reaching for the hem of his shirt. Slowly, he tugs it over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest. My fingersinstinctively reach for him, tracing the warmth of his skin. His belt follows, then his jeans, each movement deliberate as he undresses, never breaking eye contact.
Only when there’s nothing left between us does he trail his mouth further down, exploring every inch of my body with reverent kisses. He takes his time peeling away layers of clothing until I’m bare beneath him—vulnerable yet safe in this cocoon we’ve created.
His hands are warm as they glide over my skin; every touch is deliberate and tender. The way he worships my body feels foreign, yet exhilarating—it’s not just about lust, but an unspoken promise shared between us.
As he slowly enters me, I gasp softly at the sensation, the fullness mixed with a delicious ache. He pauses for a moment to let me adjust before moving gently inside me in a slow rhythm that builds gradually. Each thrust is deliberate and measured; it feels like a dance—one only we know.
I meet him stroke for stroke, my body responding eagerly to his movements as our bodies become one. Every touch, every caress ignites a fire within me that spreads through my veins like wildfire.
Malik’s breath becomes ragged as he picks up the pace, his hips meeting mine with increasing urgency. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer as we move together in perfect harmony.
Our moans mingle in the air as pleasure ripples through us, taking us higher and higher until we reach an ecstatic crescendo together. Malik collapses beside me, his body flush against mine, our limbs tangled in the sheets, slick with sweat and satisfaction.
For a few moments, we’re both silent—our chests rising and falling in unison as we catch our breath. Malik rolls off of me, pulling me into his embrace with an arm around my waist.
"Are you okay?" he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.
I smirk, pressing a slow kiss to his jaw. "More than okay."
He hums in response, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go."
The words settle deep in my bones, in a place I didn’t know was empty until now. I don’t say anything, just curl into him, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull me into something dangerously close to peace.
But even as sleep starts to pull me under, a thought lingers, dark and possessive.
Elle tried to make him feel small.
She won’t get the chance to do it again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
INDIGO
Perched atop the worn leather seat of my Kawasaki Ninja ZX6R, I fixate on Elle as she moves through the morning haze below, completely unaware of my gaze dissecting her every move. From my vantage point—a secluded alcove between the downtown bustle and the quiet suburbs—I absorb the details of her routine, the small vulnerabilities she doesn’t even realize she exposes. The way she fumbles with her keys at the door, how her gaze flits over her shoulder without truly seeing anything. These moments are what I live for. The imperfections allow me to slip into someone’s life, rearrange it, and leave something far more meaningful in my wake.
