Page 102 of The Last Call Home
The words slam into me like a match to dry timber.
“Yes,” I breathe, my voice catching in my throat.“Please.Yes.”
The shirt I’m wearing is gone before the next beat of silence.One second, it’s on his shoulders.The next it’s hitting the floor in a forgotten heap.I barely register the sound because he’s already under the blanket, his hands trailing over me—rough palms, warm fingers skimming my hips, grazing over the curve of my waist, up along my ribs.Possessive.Intent.
He finds the boxers I stole from his drawer.His fingers hook in the waistband.
“You wore these like you belong to me,” he says, eyes locked on mine.
“I do,” I whisper.
He peels them down, slow and unhurried.My breath hitches as the air hits my thighs, and he pulls back the blanket just enough to look at me—naked, flushed, already wet.
“Mal ...”
He doesn’t answer.
He just slides lower, eyes locked on mine until his mouth reaches my skin.Then he kisses down my body with a hunger that thrums between us—fierce, consuming, impossible to ignore.Each kiss is slow but searing, his lips dragging over sensitive skin like he’s tasting memory and promise in every inch.My breath stumbles.My back arches.I can’t stop the soft, desperate sounds that spill from my lips.I don’t want to.
My legs fall open for him without hesitation, wide and willing, because my body understands who it’s opening for.
It’s not just need—it’s an ache.An ache.A craving that pulses low and deep, radiating outward until I’m raw with it.
And then he touches me.
Not with hands.Not with fingers.With his fucking mouth.
His tongue licks a slow, agonizing stripe up my cunt—deliberate, filthy, reverent.I gasp, hips jerking, thighs trembling around his head.It’s not just pleasure—it’s violent, all-consuming hunger surging through my veins, curling my toes, stealing my breath.
His hands grip my thighs tight, spreading me wider, holding me open like a feast he’s about to devour.His mouth is everywhere—tongue dragging through my slick folds, lips sucking my clit with unrelenting focus, teasing me with the kind of rhythm that destroys patience.He drinks every sound I make, pushes two fingers inside me and curls them just right.
He groans against me like he’s drunk on the taste.Like my pussy is the only thing that makes sense to him right now.His tongue fucks me alongside his fingers, deep and slow, then fast and firm, and I swear I can feel his need in every movement—this primal, filthy obsession to make me come apart for him.
And I do.
I shatter.
Not with grace.Not quietly.
I come undone around him, crying out his name, thighs clamping around his head as my orgasm tears through me.I’m shuddering so hard my vision blurs, legs trembling, body arching helplessly into his mouth.But Malerick doesn’t fucking stop.He keeps licking—slow and relentless—tongue dragging through my slick like he owns it.Like he’s starving for it.
I’m gasping, twitching, grinding down on his face because I need more, need everything, and he gives it to me.Let’s me fuck his face while he groans into me, tongue fucking me deeper, filthier.His moan vibrates against my clit, and it makes me cry out again—louder this time, raw and ragged as another orgasm crashes over me.
It’s too much.
It’s fucking perfect.
He doesn’t stop until I’m soaked, breathless, shaking so hard that I can barely think.Wrecked.Ruined.His.
Only then does he slow.Licks me once more, slow and claiming, before dragging his mouth up my body.He’s panting, lips glistening, and when he reaches my neck, he kisses the spot just beneath my ear and growls?—
“Mine.”
His mouth is slick with me, his lips parted, breath shallow, and his eyes—fuck.They’re burning like he’s just seen something sacred, and he’s not ready to let it go.
“You taste better than any dream I’ve ever had,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, reverent, and ruined.
Something inside me shudders.A pulse that starts low and ripples outward until I can barely hold still.I reach for him, fingers sliding into his thick hair, tugging gently as I rise onto my knees, straddling his lap without a second thought.
