Page 21 of Malcolm (The Sunburst Pack #1)

L ARISSA GRIPPED THE EDGE of the kitchen table, knuckles white, and she gasped as Malcolm’s tongue traced teasing circles around her clit.

When had their argument devolved into…this?

As his mouth continued its maddening attention, Malcolm slid his strong fingers across her wet heat, probing, searching.

She bit back a moan as he slipped two thick digits inside her.

“We shouldn’t—” she breathed out, her usual sharp wit deserting her.

“Shhh,” he murmured against her flesh. “For once in your life, stop overthinking.” His fingers curled, stroking her inner walls as if mapping uncharted territory. Larissa’s hips bucked involuntarily.

“Damn you,” she hissed even as pleasure coursed through her. This was Malcolm—her rival, her nemesis. She shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t crave his touch. And yet…

His rumbling chuckle vibrated against her core. “Still trying to be in control? Let go.”

His fingers pressed deeper, seeking that elusive spot that would make her come undone. Larissa’s breath caught as he found it.

“I hate you,” she gasped, not sure if she meant it.

Malcolm’s only response was to redouble his efforts, fingers and tongue working in tandem. Larissa dug her nails into his broad shoulders as she fought to maintain some semblance of dignity.

But with each stroke, each lick, her walls crumbled. And she teetered on the edge, all strategy forgotten in the face of raw, primal need.

Her breath hitched as the pressure within her intensified, a coiling tension that threatened to snap at any moment. Her usual calculated composure was rapidly unraveling under Malcolm’s relentless assault.

“What are you doing to me?” she panted, her voice husky with need.

He lifted his head briefly, his dark eyes gleaming with lust and triumph. “Winning,” he said before lowering his mouth once more.

Larissa wanted to remind him this wasn’t a competition, but coherent thought fled as Malcolm’s lips closed around her sensitive bud. He sucked hard, rolling her clit with his tongue in a way that made her see stars.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, her hips grinding against his face of their own accord.

Malcolm’s low chuckle reverberated through her core. “Such language from our refined tactician,” he teased, his words muffled against her flesh.

Larissa tangled her fingers in his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

This was madness, pure and simple. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop it.

The dual nature of their relationship—rivals yet undeniably drawn to each other—only seemed to heighten every touch, every lick, every sensation.

“Less talking,” she managed to gasp out. “More… Oh!”

Malcolm had returned to his ministrations with renewed vigor, alternating between sucking and flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue. Larissa’s back arched off the table, her body betraying her even as her mind raced.

What would this mean for their rivalry? For the pack? But as Malcolm’s mouth worked its magic, those thoughts faded into insignificance. For once, Larissa allowed herself to simply feel.

Incandescent need rolled across her body in waves, starting from her core and radiating outward until her skin practically blazed, every nerve ending quivering under Malcolm’s touch. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape.

“Don’t hold back,” Malcolm murmured, his breath hot against her inner thigh. “I want to hear you.”

“This… This doesn’t change anything between us,” she panted, her voice husky with desire.

Malcolm’s response was to redouble his efforts, his tongue tracing intricate patterns that made Larissa’s toes curl. She could feel the pressure building inside her, a coiling tension that begged for release.

“I… I…,” she gasped, her usual eloquence deserting her.

“Let go,” he urged, his fingers digging into her hips. “Stop strategizing for once and just feel.”

As if his words had flipped a switch, Larissa’s orgasm began to build in earnest. It started as a warm glow in her core, spreading outward with increasing intensity. She trembled, caught between the desire to surrender and the instinct to maintain control.

“I can’t,” she whimpered, though whether she meant she couldn’t let go or couldn’t hold back, she wasn’t sure.

Malcolm’s dark chuckle sent vibrations through her most sensitive areas. “Oh, you can,” he assured her. “And you will.”

Larissa’s body betrayed her mind’s desperate attempts at restraint. Her hips bucked again against Malcolm’s skilled mouth, seeking more of the exquisite sensations he was creating. A low, keening moan escaped her lips, surprising even herself with its raw intensity.

“That’s it,” Malcolm said, his voice thick. “Let me hear you, Larissa.”

“I shouldn’t want this,” Larissa gasped, her usual composure shattered. “We shouldn’t…”

Malcolm intensified his efforts, his tongue laving her with renewed vigor. The wet heat of his mouth combined with the slight rasp of his stubble against her inner thighs sent shock waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Larissa’s mind raced, even as her body writhed beneath Malcolm’s ministrations.

How would this affect their delicate power balance within the pack?

What advantage might he gain from seeing her so vulnerable?

But with each swirl of his tongue, each careful thrust of his fingers, those thoughts became harder to grasp, slipping away like smoke.

“I can’t… I’m going to…,” she whimpered, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears. He hummed in approval against her, the vibrations pushing her even closer to the edge she both craved and feared.

Larissa’s back arched as the first wave of her climax crashed over her. Her body tensed, every muscle taut as a bowstring, before releasing in a shuddering spasm of ecstasy. A guttural moan escaped her lips, raw and primal in a way that shocked her.

Malcolm continued his relentless assault on her senses, drawing out her pleasure with practiced skill. Each lap of his tongue sent aftershocks rippling through her, prolonging the intense sensations.

Larissa’s mind reeled, unable to process the overwhelming flood of endorphins. She clutched at Malcolm’s shoulders, desperate for an anchor in the storm of sensation.

“This changes nothing,” she managed to pant, even as her body betrayed her words with another wave of pleasure.

Malcolm lifted his head slightly. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Then he turned back to his task.

The continuous stimulation kept Larissa suspended in a state of blissful agony, her orgasm seeming to stretch on endlessly. Her toes curled, her breath came in ragged gasps, and still the waves of pleasure showed no sign of abating.

As the intensity finally began to ebb, Larissa collapsed back onto the kitchen table, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. She lay there, chest heaving, her mind blissfully blank for once. The cool surface of the table contrasted sharply with her flushed, burning skin.

“Well,” Malcolm said, his voice husky as he straightened up, “that was…” His voice trailed off.

Larissa’s eyes fluttered open as she struggled to focus on his face. She watched as he wiped his mouth, a self-satisfied smirk playing at his lips. The sight throbbed through her core.

“I…,” Larissa began, then faltered, uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

As the fog of pleasure slowly lifted, clarity began to seep back into Larissa’s mind. With it came a dawning horror at what had just transpired. She’d allowed Malcolm, her rival and sometimes nemesis, to reduce her to a quivering mess on the kitchen table.

Worse, she’d enjoyed every second of it.

“This was a mistake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She pushed herself up on shaky arms, suddenly all too aware of her naked vulnerability.

Malcolm’s expression shifted, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before being replaced by his usual bravado. “Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

Larissa’s cheeks burned with shame and lingering arousal. “We can’t… This can’t happen again. You understand that, right?”

Even as she spoke the words, a part of her rebelled against them. Her body still thrummed with residual pleasure, craving more of Malcolm’s touch.

So when he reached out to help her off the table, her first instinct was to take his hand.

This isn’t right.

The thought crystallized in Larissa’s mind, sharp and cold as ice.

She’d spent years working to build her reputation as a tactical, levelheaded leader—someone the pack could trust to make decisions based on logic rather than emotion.

And now? One touch from Malcolm had shattered years of careful control.

If she gave in to these feelings, if she allowed herself to be vulnerable with him, everything she’d worked for could crumble.

What would happen the first time they disagreed on pack business?

Their explosive arguments were legendary enough already—add romance to that volatile mix and they could tear the pack apart.

She’d seen it happen before, when Vincent and Karla’s toxic relationship had poisoned pack dynamics, their personal fights spilling over into pack decisions until no one felt safe.

The pack needed strong, clear leadership now more than ever, not two alphas tangled up in a complicated romance. And what if it didn’t work out? Their rivalry would become a hundred times worse, and the pack would suffer for it.

No. She couldn’t risk everything she’d built, everything the pack needed, for what her traitorous body wanted.

Better to shut this down now, before it became something she couldn’t control.

Before she lost herself in Malcolm completely.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Larissa abruptly broke away, sliding off the table and pulling on her clothes. She put as much distance between herself and Malcolm as the confines of his kitchen would allow, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Stupid, stupid, stupid , she berated herself silently. How could you let this happen?

“Wait,” Malcolm said. “I—”

“Don’t,” Larissa cut him off sharply, finally turning to face him. The sight of him—disheveled, lips swollen, eyes dark with desire—sent another pulse through her. She ruthlessly suppressed it. “This was a mistake,” she repeated. “It can’t happen again.”

She watched as Malcolm’s expression shuttered, his jaw tightening.

Good. Let him be angry.

Anger was easier to deal with than the longing in his eyes.

“Hannah and Gregory are the real threat here,” Larissa continued, her voice growing colder with each word. “Not our…whatever this is.”

Malcolm nodded stiffly, his posture tense. “You’re right. The pack comes first.”

Always , Larissa thought, ignoring the twinge of regret that came with the word. “We should go. Now. We need to find the others, start rallying support.”

“We should check in with Nick,” Malcolm said. “Let him know what’s going on.”

For a second, Larissa froze, thinking perhaps Malcolm meant they should report their steamy encounter to the temporary alpha of the pack. Then she mentally shook herself. Don’t be ridiculous. He means we should tell Nick what I overheard Hannah saying at the diner .

“Right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for a response, Larissa strode toward the door. She needed to get out of this house, away from the lingering warmth of Malcolm’s touch, the memory of his mouth on her.

As she stepped outside, the heat of the New Mexico afternoon hit her. She welcomed it, letting the discomfort ground her.

Malcolm followed, locking the door behind him.