Page 70 of Toxic B!tch
I nod in agreement, still trying to process everything that just happened.
Malik shifts slightly and I feel his softening cock slip out of me. My body protests at the loss of contact, and I let out a small whimper.
He chuckles deeply, sending shivers down my spine. "Don't worry," he says, planting another kiss on my lips. "We have all night."
My heart races at the thought of spending more time with him, exploring each other's bodies and indulging in endless pleasure.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
INDIGO
I sit pressed against Malik on the couch, his body warm and solid against mine. We're both only in our underwear, a perfect contrast to the weight of everything that’s been building.Shrekis playing, but I’m barely paying attention. Malik runs his fingers absentmindedly through my hair, the soft tug of his fingertips grounding me in this moment. It's funny how the simplest things can feel like a lifeline, a reminder that there’s still some semblance of peace to cling to. The tension from the past few days lingers between us, but for now, I can almost forget it’s there.
Almost.
My phone buzzes on the table in front of us. I don’t need to look to know it’s from Brandon. I don’t even need to ask myself what it might be. The phone he gave me is the one lit up and waiting for me.
I reach over and grab it, sliding it open without hesitation. The name stares back at me in cold, ugly black letters: Elias Sungshrew, 38, Caucasian. His photo fills the screen—dark,emotionless eyes that make something cold twist in my gut. The details fall into place quickly: he was caught with a sixteen-year-old girl but got off on a technicality.
My throat tightens, but I don't let it slow me down. I don't need to get emotional about this. I can already feel the pulse in my temples, the focus locking in. I read on about the girl—Marissa. Her name sticks with me, the tragic details of her life hitting like a punch. She tried to end it all after what he did to her, and now she's in an inpatient program for assault survivors. The thought of her hits a nerve I don't acknowledge, not yet.
I look over my shoulder at Malik, and he’s already watching me, his gaze sharp with understanding.
He knows the plan before I even say a word. "On it," he mutters, and I don’t need him to say more. He pulls out his phone and starts typing with the efficiency of someone who knows exactly how to handle these kinds of situations. Less than five minutes later, he’s found the headline—a small town in Washington, where Elias and Marissa live. It all falls into place too easily.
“Looks like we’re going to Washington,” I say, my voice low but firm. I don’t hesitate. This is happening. “I’m not gonna just take some headline’s word for it. I’ll see this guy myself. I need to know if he’s guilty. The internet lies, the news spins the truth. I’m not wasting my time on something that’s not worth it. But if he’s guilty…” I let the sentence trail off.
Malik doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll go get us packed.” He slides out from under me, his body leaving a cold spot where he was, but I don’t need him to stay close right now. We’re both locked in our roles, and there’s no room for distractions.
I send a message back to Brandon, my fingers typing faster than I can think.
Me: Heading out soon. Will be investigating myself before committing.
His response is quick.
Unknown: Understood. Let me know.
I exhale, but it’s not a sigh. It's just the space I need to collect myself. Everything’s moving exactly how it should, and there’s no turning back. It’s as simple as that.
I get up, shaking off the heavy in the room, the feeling of everything shifting under me. But I’m not wasting time on "what ifs." That’s not how I operate. There’s no hesitation, no doubt.
"Babe!" I call. "Pack my leather pants and the red polka dot top. I’ve got a vision."
I hear Malik’s chuckle from the other room, his voice soft but knowing. “Of course you do.”
The Aria Haven Resortis even more impressive in person. The Chamber booked it with no questions asked, no red tape, no complications—just how I like it. From the moment we step inside, the scent of jasmine and polished wood fills the air, and warm, dim lighting casts everything in a soft, golden glow.
Malik rolls our single suitcase with one hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulders as we move through the grand lobby. I don’t bother taking in the details—expensive chandeliers, sleek marble floors, the quiet murmur of moneyedguests enjoying their secluded luxury. I’ve stayed in places like this before, but Malik? He whistles low as we step into the private elevator.
We don’t speak as we ride up to the top floor, and when we reach our suite, Malik swipes the keycard and pushes the door open. The moment we step inside, the tension of the outside world fades.
The suite is expansive—sleek blue and silver tones, a massive king-sized bed, and floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the glittering skyline. But what really catches my attention is the oversized jacuzzi tub by the window.
Malik gives a manly grunt of appreciation, tossing the suitcase aside as he takes in the room. “It’s nicer than the pics showed.”
I smirk, shutting the door behind me. “We could’ve stayed in a normal room.”
“No way, baby,” he says immediately, pulling me closer. His breath brushes against my temple as he murmurs, “If this is what we’re doing, we’re doing it big. Every time. No questions. You deserve it—for what you’re risking… for what I’m risking.”
