Page 136 of The Last Call Home
And, God, I let her.I let her take whatever she wants.My mouth opens to hers and I groan as her fingers slide into my hair, gripping the back of my head, tugging just enough to make my whole-body shudder.The sensation shoots straight through me—tight, aching, raw.
I’m wired like I’ve been touched by electricity, like this is the contact I’ve been begging for since the day she smirked my way, charging me for a coffee that wasn’t mine, and made me forget how to breathe.
Behind us, the cushion shifts.The frame groans, and I know it’s him.I feel the pull of air change, the air thickening with something feral and alive.
“What am I, chopped liver?”Mal’s voice cuts through the heat, low and rough like gravel dipped in honey.“Am I supposed to sit here and watch you two devour each other?”
Delilah doesn’t miss a beat.She pulls back from me, breathless, her lips slick and swollen, and turns just enough to glance over her shoulder.“Stop complaining and come over,” she says, voice husky, threaded with mischief and a command she knows he’ll obey.
Mal doesn’t just move—he prowls closer.Drops down behind her so his knees are on either side of her hips, his chest to her back.One of his hands finds her waist, and the other rises, slow and reverent, to cradle her face.
Then he kisses her.
And it isn’t a kiss—it’s a goddamn reckoning.His mouth meets hers like he’s trying to inhale her soul, like the world has ended and she’s the only thing keeping him alive.Their lips move together with a rhythm that’s anything but casual—it’s desperate and deep and full of things neither of them says out loud.Loss.Regret.A hunger that never quieted.A thousand moments they almost had but never took.
She melts against him.Her head tilts, exposing her throat.Her arm reaches back, curling around his neck, pulling him in tighter like she needs his weight to stay grounded.
I sit there, watching, my cock straining against my jeans, my breathing wrecked.It’s obscene and beautiful.Watching her kiss him like that—like she belongs to both of us, like she was made for this.For me.For him.For the space in between us where none of the rules exist anymore.
Her free hand finds mine.Fingers intertwined.She drags me closer until I’m pressed to her front and Mal’s flush to her back.Her body trembles between us.
And then she whispers it—just loud enough for both of us to hear.
“Touch me.”
Fuck.
We’re past the point of no return.
And I’ve never wanted anything more.
She repeats, “Touch me,” and something inside me detonates.
The request isn’t soft.It’s not coy.It’s need.Undeniable need.
She’s still damp from the shower.Her skin smells like vanilla and heat, and the flannel shirt she’s wearing isn’t buttoned.It clings in all the wrong ways—barely hiding anything.When I slide my hand beneath the hem, my fingers meet warm, damp thighs, and fuck me, there’s nothing underneath.No barrier.No underwear.Just her.Bare.Ready.
Mal lets out a sound behind her—something halfway between a groan and a growl—and presses his mouth to her neck.“You wore this for us, didn’t you?”he murmurs against her skin.“You wanted us to see you dripping, half-wrapped like a fucking present.”
She tilts her head back onto his shoulder, and that flannel slides open just enough to bare the soft curve of one breast.
I can’t stop myself.
I lean in, close enough to feel her breath hitch, and brush my mouth over the swell.My tongue finds her nipple—already tight, already begging—and she gasps, arching into my mouth like I’m the only thing she needs.
But I’m not.
Mal’s hand is already between her thighs, coaxing them open, whispering filth into her ear as she whimpers.Her legs fall apart like she’s forgotten how to hold herself together.He sinks lower behind her, kissing down her spine, pausing at the base before dragging her back to lie against the couch.His eyes meet mine as he spreads her wide.
“Together,” he says, voice like smoke and gravel.“She deserves both of us.”
I drop to my knees in front of her, shoulder to shoulder with him, and my mouth waters at the sight.She’s flushed and glistening, hips shifting like she’s already aching for relief.
I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, while Mal moves to the other side.She twitches, hips jerking, and I pin her there with a hand on her belly.Her skin is fever-warm, her pulse thrumming under my lips.
“Hold still, sweetheart,” I murmur, right before my mouth finds her.
She cries out—low and wrecked—and fuck if that doesn’t go straight to my cock.Mal mirrors me on the other side, and it’s chaos in the best way: two tongues, two mouths, devouring her like we’ve both been starved for the same thing.Her hands claw at the couch cushions, her thighs trembling, her flannel pushed open now so her breasts rise with every panting breath.
