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‘No “Scotch”.’ His hand slips to the high slit of the dress on my thigh, feathering up and down, conjuring greedy goosebumps, and I stand apart, wanting him to slide up, needing him to, pressing harder against him, relishing the feel of his firmness against the softness of my ass. ‘We never talk about it after this moment. It never happened.’

I bite my lip, repress a groan of desperation before managing to let out, ‘Yep. Because I don’t want to get back together with you.’ Even if I were still in love with him it would be too costly, too dangerous. I might not get all of me back this time.

‘Believe me. That’s the last thing I want to do.’ Somehow through my horny haze, I feel a ridiculous sting, as if I didn’t already know this, as if that isn’t the point, as if I don’t feel the same. Malakai made it clear; he doesn’t want long-term. I was a trial. I was an error.

I turn round and look up into the burn of his eyes. I want this. This version ofthis.Simple. No fuss, no mess.

‘Good. So we’re settled.’ I step back and gently flick the straps of my gown so they fall off my shoulders, revealing the heft of my breasts. I slant my head, letting every filthy thought I’ve ever had rush into my eyes. ‘Now, tell me more about you knowing how I’m in the mood to be fucked. Because I’m having trouble believing y—’

It’s a new Big Bang, a new world after the apocalypse, same but different, our desire made fiercer with familiarity. We’re ravenous, ferocious, lips sucking, tongues laving, deep strokes stoking the fire in me further; it’s blazing now. Malakai’s smile is wicked as a hand wraps round my neck in precious possession while the other one slides down my back to squeeze the plump of my ass cheek. When he moans into my mouth with relief, I feel a new sun explode into being within me. I decide to ignore it, to not interrogate it– I’m going to let it be.

‘Is this what you wanted, Kiki? When you were walking in front of me, is this what you imagined me doing?’ His hand slips under my dress now to grip into the flesh, and he whispers against my face, ‘Because all you needed to do was ask nicely.’

I smile as I reach down to slowly stroke the prominent swell in his trousers, and watch his eyes cloud, feel his grip on my right cheek tighten. ‘You have a lot of chat for someone who’s about to be moaning my name.’

Malakai’s hand maddeningly migrates from butt to in between my thighs, swirling his hand in slow circles on the flesh there. The anticipatory pleasure pushes my head back– Malakai braces it with his hand, bunching my braids in a tight fist as his other hand floats up, and up, and up, just shy of the thrumming juncture of need. He lightly traces the V of my panties, his finger edging the lace.

‘You first.’

I release a frustrated feline sound and cover his hand, try to coax it to touch me there, but he doesn’t budge. He’s sostrict.

‘Nah, Kiki. Use your words. You’re grown.’ His voice is a rough grunt that brushes against the tenderness of his kisses on my neck, the sucks sending sharp darts of desire to my core. ‘Tell me how bad you want me to stroke you.’

And I hate it because the answer issobad, I-Should-Not-Want-It-This-Badbad, so bad that just his words have me soaked. I look into his eyes, and his intense, singular focus on me, his face etched with undistilled want for me, throws me back to a million versions of us. In the lust-filled clouds in my brain, I can’t separate those versions from this version.No.Panic spikes through me, and I turn round, facing the balcony doors to rest a hand on the glass.

‘Touch me from behind,’ I say. ‘I want to feel you against me as you stroke.’ It was a truth couched in fear. I can’t emotionally afford eye contact right now. The risk is too deep.

If Malakai senses that anything is off, he doesn’t mention it– he acquiesces, quickly, his hand slipping under the thin lace of my knickers to trail a finger against the slick slit, and he speaks low in my ear.

‘Look at you, Kiki. Pussy drenched for me. Does my touch feel lost to you? Come let my touch be lost in you.’

It’s unfair, really, how I almost come, just from that. Unfair how he knows how much I like it when he talks to me like that. I mew his name as I roll my hips to encourage movement, and Malakai’s finger slips in, thick and elegant, coaxing, teasing, playing me like I’m an instrument finely tuned to his melody. My vision blurs as I swirl my waist, encouraging him to go deeper as another finger follows.

‘Kiki, you feel perfect. I love how you move on me. Keep working me in just like that,’ and it drives me crazy. I am now fully humping his fingers something feral, my hand sliding down the glass as I grind against his erection, giving the City of London a show. I’m not a natural exhibitionist, but in this particular biome of mine and Malakai’s attraction to each other, something wild in me always blooms. Or maybe this is a natural state, dormant until stimulated by his touch. This is why we couldn’t last. It’s too much, the energy too unruly. He reaches for my left breast and rubs a nipple, raining hot, sexy, sloppy kisses on my neck as his fingers do their labour of lust. He slides in impossibly deeper, stroking gently but precisely, with the confidence of someone who knows where they’re going, knows where to press, how to cajole my ecstasy. He switches the pressure suddenly, his fingers gliding firmly, racketing up the pleasure till he finally slips his finger up till he finds my clit, rubbing mercifully, intently, a universe of nerve endings going hectic at the heat, at the blessed reunion with his touch, while his other finger shuttles back and forth mercilessly inside me. It’s too much, not enough. I press against the coolness of the glass for relief, pushing further into his touch, writhing in sync with his motion, barely able to contain the blooming bliss.

I rasp, ‘Malakai.’

‘Come for me, Keeks. You’re doing so fucking good—’

We said no nicknames, he’s cheated, but I don’t have time to be pissed because the pleasure ricochets through me with no warning, so quick it takes my breath away, the orgasm rushing in so fast I gasp, thrashing against him, coating his hand with all the want pent up from the first time I set eyes on him tonight. He drops kisses on my neck, my collarbone, my cheek, so treacherously tender that I’m glad I had the wisdom to not look into his eyes. I remind myself again: this is temporary, one night only, a purge of passion. When I turn round the fire in Malakai’s face is burning blue, ravenous. His hunger has reached its peak. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks. It’s so fucking nasty and I’m rapt; it’s a wrap.

‘Sit down on the sofa,’ I say through a pant, entranced.

The corner of Malakai’s mouth flicks up wolfishly before he does as told. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

He situates himself on the couch in the small living space of the suite, sitting back, legs apart, deliciously waiting, as I slip my dress completely off my hips, slide my knickers off, kick my heels off. Malakai watches me, mesmerised, eyes following my movements till I am completely naked in front of him. He utters, one word, ‘How?’– a jagged, awed breath that tangles up in my chest in a way I decide to package up, not think about. This is merely physical.

My curves are a little softer, wider now, and Malakai is a man that likes to knead, squeeze, press. I approach him slowly, relishing his brazen, ravenous attention before straddling him, roughly grabbing his face and kissing him filthily, my tongue licking into his mouth, sucking his lip. It’s lust, but frustration leaks into it, contaminates the unqualified thirst. It’s emotional frustration, a tang of anger, and something softer, sweeter that I ignore. I focus on the top notes: the taste of Malakai’s kisses. Decadent dark chocolate, unrefined desire for me, my own boldness, his confidence, honey, spice. His hips buck automatically in candied violence, a sweet, addicting force that pushes his firmness into me in such a way that I wet the fabric of his trousers anew.

I grin, place a finger across his lips and let it drag down. ‘Patience. . .’

His eyes are glazed with mischief, thirst. ‘You’re evil.’

‘So you better do as told, innit.’ I make quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. Malakai rips it off his body as if it’s on fire, and then I drop kisses on his chest, swirling my tongue across his nipple. Malakai hisses and when I raise my head he leans his against mine as he releases a heavy, ragged breath.

‘There she is. Sweet assassin. I see you’re still out here tryna kill me?’

‘I thought one of your superhuman powers was immunity against my assassination attempts?’