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It’s filthy and exquisite, and I pant, ‘I want to feel you.’

His eyes brand me, blue-flame bright. ‘I told you, Scotch. It’s yours.’

And my craving reaches a critical point, but so does my need to drive him crazy. I suckle at his neck as I lightly drag my wetness against him, and Malakai groans and raises a hand to press against my neck firmly but gently. ‘Be easy.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’

Malakai tilts his head to the side in response, the slant of his mouth wicked, before he nestles himself against me and rubs his smooth tip on my sleek opening. I gasp and writhe at the searing sensation, the curve of his lips a dangerous place for me to slip and slide.

‘If you wanna play dirty, we can,’ he says. ‘Just don’t forget that I’m better at this game than you. Behave yourself.’ It’s my favourite thing to be bested at, but what’s there to gain with early admission? Better to wait, gather more knowledge, joy, graduate cum laude. His hand rises to lazily tug a nipple.

I say, stubbornly, biting in my mew, ‘You can’t make me do shit.’

Malakai’s eyes glint, jagged sugar glass, and his tongue dives into my mouth, fucking it greedily, deliciously, mercilessly, whilst he slides his hand down between my legs and runs two fingers down my slit, coating it with all the desire he conjured, and hauls out a moan into his mouth that he swallows.

He pulls away, slightly, his words brushing my bruised mouth. ‘You sure? Because I can think of at least one thing I can make you do, Scotch.’ His voice is a hoarse grit of want. He keeps my misty gaze captive as his tongue darts out to taste me on the pads of his fingers. I’ve never seen a prettier pink than that of his tongue dipped in me. The illicit sight drives me singularly wild, almost makes my eyes blur.

‘Nasty.’ My gasp is rough with awe-drenched lust, and I kiss him, tasting my sweetness on him. ‘Please keep being nasty.’

‘I solemnly swear,’ Malakai says, pushing himself gently between my legs and making my hips jerk in greed, ‘to continue being thoroughly disgusting with you.’

‘Good to know. Start with getting inside me. Now.’

‘Always so demanding.’ His voice is strained, gruff, as he positions the thick, smooth domed head snugly against me and I draw a tight breath, feeling myself soaking him, desire pooling between us. ‘Don’t you have manners?’

I lift my hips to graze him politely in response, welcome him in, and Malakai’s eyes roll back, a man on the brink.

I smirk. ‘Please.’

‘Nah.’ His whisper is rough, broken, barely holding it together. ‘Been so long you’ve forgotten the rules. What’s my name, Scotch? Say my name.’

He pushes into me a little further, and I’m desperate; the pleading would have happened anyway, gladly, hungrily. ‘Please, Kai. Please, I need you inside me. Now,now, baby—’ I mean every word, and now all play has fled his face, and intense primal need replaces it; it’s the first time I’ve called him ‘baby’ since he’s come back, and all restraint that Malakai has disintegrates in an instant. He slowly plunges into me, working through the taut, silken entry, the stretch piercing and perfect, till I’m delectably full. I gasp sharply at the total pleasure, our groans harmonising as we find our rhythm.

‘You’re so beautiful, Scotch.’ The tender sincerity sets in my bones, sets my bones, and I remember his‘You’re my abundance.’

This feels so right that I can’t remember how I survived without precisely this, with him. My legs are wanton and widen as far as possible to welcome him in; it feels like nothing that I’ve felt before with him, a cumulation of everything we’ve been, everything we are and everything we could be, and we rock with the waves of the pleasure of the past, the possibility of the present, the promise of the future.

‘Is this what you wanted, Scotch?’ Malakai pushes my bent knees back and asks in between exquisitely paced strokes that have me seeing the cosmos behind my eyelids, and I say yes, sigh yes, scream yes, it’s a rain dance that has made me slick enough for him to go deeper and I beg for him to give me more, more, more, and he does, and it feels good-good-good. I feel as if my body can’t contain all the good, but somehow every time I feel like I’ve reached the capacity for pleasure, I survive and Malakai bends to kiss me, slow and sweet.

He bends and whispers, cradling my face, ‘You look so fucking sexy taking me, my love. You feel so good. Hold on for me, baby. We’re not done yet,’ and it turns me inside out, my body just sensation.

I tell Kai to flip me because I want to harness all of this; I don’t want to lose it so soon. He does and then I’m on top and riding our rhythm, holding it. His hands slide up to my breasts and squeeze in frustration, in barely constrained pleasure, driving me crazy, before they lower to grip my hips firmly as his own hips jerk to buttress my movements, intensifying the delectable depth as obscene commands scrape out of his mouth, rough and sexy and bringing me closer to the brink, pushing my legs further apart, making me move wilder.

‘Just like that, Scotch. Take what’s yours. It’s all you. Everything is you.’

At the sound of his voice, gruff with raw need, the pleasure compounds, builds, rises, I can’t stop, don’t want to stop. He says my name like an incantation, ‘scotchscotchscotch’, then, simply, ‘It’s only you,’ like a benediction, and though I try not to cling to it– his tongue is lust-loose– it changes the tenor of this. He makes the ocean bloom in me, we shame the stars and make the sky turn pink and purple and red; we’re the sun, bright enough to make fire sweat–this is a story of a new creation.

Kai sits up and his arms brace me to his chest, our skin sticking to each other as he thrusts into me in sharp, decisive, delicious bursts that have me biting his shoulder, clawing at his back as I squeeze around him, making him growl, ‘All you,’ and he gives me all his feeling, generous with it, fierce with it, and I give it back and then he gives it back, and forth and circular and there is an abundance of it– love– and even when some of it spills out of me through a loud cry, through his groan and gasp, and inside me, there’s still an overflow left between us, ready for the giving, ready for the taking.

Chapter 19

Walk of Shame

When I wake up the next morning, my body tangled in white sheets and feel Malakai’s arm scoop me to his naked body, back against the wide, hot expanse of his chest, I think it’s a dream. The room is too warm, too bright from the morning sun, and I don’t even recognise where I am; everything is a sweet pastel yellow, wardrobe an Atlantic azure, and curtains ecru linen. It’s all tooheavenly.I turn round and see his softened sleeping face, criminally adorable, and then I remember all of last night, how it felt like home.

This isn’t a fantasy. This is the man I can’t seem to stop loving sleeping next to me. His eyes flick open and his smile is sure–not a hint of regret or hesitation in his face– looking like he won something.

‘Good mornin’, Scotch.’ It rolls out slow like hot caramel.