Page 24

CHAPTER 24

Raven

I probably look very stupid, but that doesn't stop me. I'm on a mission. Holding a plate of chocolate cake, standing across from the most dangerous man I’ve ever met, knowing exactly what I’m about to do.

I could have chosen something simple. Something that wouldn’t have set the tone for what’s about to happen.

But I didn’t. Because deep down, some twisted, reckless part of me wants to see what happens when I push him.

Malakai watches me from his seat at the table, his eyes dark and dangerously neutral. He’s still relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the chair, his fingers tapping idly against the wood, but I can tell.

He’s waiting. Waiting for me to make the next move. Waiting for me to prove that this is more than just an innocent dinner.

I place the plate down in front of him and grab the fork, slicing off a bite of the rich, velvety cake.

Malakai lifts an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between the fork and my face.

I smile slowly, lifting the bite toward his mouth.

"Try it."

For a second, he just watches me. Like he’s deciding. Like he’s figuring out exactly what I’m doing.

Then, with a smirk, he leans in, parting his lips just enough for me to slide the bite past them.

I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens slightly when the taste hits his tongue.

I definitely don’t miss the way his eyes stay locked on mine the entire time he chews.

"Good, huh?" I murmur, pulling the fork back.

He swallows slowly, tilting his head. "You trying to butter me up, Lamb?"

I shrug, taking another bite for myself. "Maybe."

His lips curl. "Careful."

"Or what?"

His gaze dips to my mouth, and something about the way he’s looking at me makes my skin feel too hot, too tight.

I don’t move when he reaches forward, grabs the fork from my fingers, and cuts a fresh bite of cake.

Only this time, when he lifts it, he doesn’t bring it to his own mouth.

He brings it to mine.

I don’t hesitate.

I part my lips, letting him slide the bite in, and for some insane reason, the moment the chocolate melts against my tongue, the air between us thickens.

This is ridiculous.

It’s just cake.

But it’s also not just cake.

Not when his fingers graze my bottom lip as he pulls the fork away.

Not when his expression shifts into something far more dangerous than amusement.

Not when I swallow, my pulse hammering in my throat, my thighs clenching under the weight of his stare.

Malakai sets the fork down deliberately, leaning forward slightly.

"Messy," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, and before I can process what he means, his thumb swipes across the corner of my mouth, catching a bit of frosting I hadn’t even realized was there.

I freeze.

My entire body goes taut, my breath catching as his thumb lingers, his skin hot against mine.

Then—he brings it to his own lips. And licks it clean. A shudder rolls down my spine.

Because fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And worse? So do I. I’m the one who started this.

But now? Now, I think I’ve lost control of the game. Malakai watches me like a predator watches its prey. Waiting. Daring me to be the one to break first.

And I want to. God, I want to. But I refuse to be the only one falling apart here.

So I lift the fork again, slicing off another piece of cake, but instead of offering it to him, I take a slow, deliberate bite, keeping eye contact the entire time.

His jaw flexes.

I swallow, dragging the fork through the frosting again, but this time, I scoop up more than I should—too much chocolate, too much richness—and before I can stop myself, a bit of it smears onto my finger.

I glance down at the mess, then back up at Malakai. And he smirks, because he knows what’s coming. I should back down. I should end this game.

Instead, I lift my hand to my mouth—slowly, deliberately—and slide my finger between my lips, sucking the frosting off with a soft hum.

Malakai goes still. Completely. His hands flex against the table, his pupils blown wide, his breath deepening ever so slightly.

I pull my finger free, licking the last bit of chocolate off, and tilt my head.

"Still messy," I murmur, knowing exactly what I’m doing.

The chair scrapes against the floor as Malakai pushes back from the table, standing to his full height.

I swallow hard, because fuck, he’s so much bigger than me when he does that.

He steps around the table slowly, eyes locked onto mine like a wolf about to sink its teeth into its prey.

"You wanna play, Lamb?" His voice is darkness itself, crawling under my skin like a warning, yet every bit as enticing.

I should say no. I should shut this down before it goes any further. Instead, I stay perfectly still as he closes the distance between us.

He reaches down, fingers grazing the plate, scooping up just enough frosting on his index finger.

I suck in a breath, because I know exactly what he’s about to do. And I let him.

He lifts his hand, eyes flicking to my lips for half a second before he drags the frosting down the center of my bottom lip.

A deliberate, dark fucking tease.

"Messy," he says, echoing my own words back at me.

And then? He waits. Watching. Testing.

I should wipe it away with the back of my hand. I should lean away, break the tension, laugh this off.

Instead? I lick the frosting off his finger. Deliberate. Slow.

My tongue swipes against his skin, tasting chocolate and something unmistakably Malakai .

And the second I do? Something in him snaps .

His hand grips the back of my neck, his lips crashing onto mine, taking exactly what I just offered up on a silver platter.

I whimper into his mouth, my hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, because suddenly, I need more.

Need his hands on me, his mouth claiming mine, his body pressing me against the counter like he’s trying to make me forget every damn thing except him.

The plate of cake clatters to the table, forgotten, as his fingers dig into my waist. His tongue slides against mine in a kiss that’s nothing but heat and hunger and pure fucking possession.

And I should stop this. I should. But I don’t want to. Because right now? I don’t care about Alex or the Pantheon or the secrets I’m trying to uncover. Right now, I just care about this. About him.

About the way he’s losing control right along with me. And that? That terrifies me more than anything else ever could.

Malakai holds me close as I start to unbutton his shirt. I slowly turn the tables on him, pushing him against the counter, taking on a more dominant position.

He doesn't make a move yet, and I think he's going to let me take the lead this time. I want to. God, I want to. I want to do things I haven't. And heck, there's a lot of that, because my first time wasn't that long ago!

Slowly, very slowly, I help him get out of his shirt. Then I press my lips to his nipples, feeling them as my hand wanders just beneath his belt and moves downward. Damn, there's too much fabric, but even so, I can feel how hard he is.

It's a strange feeling, realizing how easily I can get this guy hard. A guy who's played with many women, some of them the model lookalikes I always admired from afar in a green-with-jealousy sort of way but never admitted. Now I have one-upped them, in some sense, and I'm not letting this go.

Malakai's breath catches and he lets out a sudden gasp as my hand unbuckles his belt and his pants fall to the ground. My mouth travels lower and kisses his navel. My body is experiencing an excitement it's still getting used to—thrilling, sensational, and kind of intimidatingly electric.

I'm totally wet down there, and I want him inside me. To feel what I did last time when I came undone all over him. But it has to wait. I want to pleasure him to bits before I have my share this time. And I want to experience what it is to have him in my mouth.

My teeth graze his underwear, and I slowly bring down the fabric enough so that I can explore his hard cock. Seeing it, and realizing how welcomingly erect it appears, I almost scream. But I stop myself, put my brain on inactive mode so I can stop thinking, and take him in, sucking as he moans loudly.

"Fuck, Raven," he yells, wanting the control back. He hasn't climaxed yet, and so he holds me, his back pressed against the counter. I keep sucking, and his groans grow louder, though muffled with desire, emitting a sound that's almost animalistic.

I don't realize how hard I'm pushing him to the edge but also holding back enough to slow down his coming. I'm enjoying this way too much. His length feels so good in my mouth, something I never even thought about doing until the impulse gripped me.

Deciding to make it even better, I recall something I read in a romance book recently. I don't know if it'll work, but fuck it, I have to try. I can't appear all inexperienced all the time, even though I am.

Sliding my lips along his length, I flick my tongue against the head of his dick. While I'm licking it, the throbbing intensifies, and so do his groans, before his juices are all over me.

He comes with a sound so devastatingly earth-shattering that it could scare off animals in the wild. All it does to me, though, is entice my body and drive me to the edge.

I hadn't given my brain the opportunity to imagine how this would feel like, but it feels better than what I could have imagined. We're both panting, almost laughing, trying not to think how ridiculous we look at the moment.

Then suddenly, Malakai says, "Let's not stop this. I want more."

"Bedroom?" I raise a brow.

"No. Couch."

I don't ask any questions about the choice of setting, because I literally don't get the chance to. He rips my dress apart and flicks it away like it's nothing, then proceeds to carry me to the couch.

Sitting me down, he unhooks my bra and plays with my breasts like it's a piece of dough. Then, making a regretful sound, he says, "Too bad we can't focus on the foreplay now."

Within minutes, he takes down my panties and lays me down, looming over me with a broad grin that says, I'm about to claim you again.

I'm about to ask about a condom, but I don't have to. He seems to have one ready already. Does he keep them lying around everywhere, or was he preparing for tonight? Whatever it is, I'm glad I don't have to ask because I'd feel stupid somehow.

My thoughts are running amok, but my nether regions know better. My entrance is craving him already, and when he tells me, "Spread your legs," like it's an order, I don't resist for a second.

"Ah, good girl."

Those magic words. As if anything can make me wetter than I already am. But the magic words do exactly that.

He slides into me soon enough, and my moans grow louder. I'm not worried about being tight any longer like I did last time. I know my body is ready for him now.

When his cock enters me fully, I spasm. "Hell yes."

Laughing, he increases the pressure, going deeper and retreating, then going further in again. The rhythm is wrecking my body. He tries to find the spot, but I feel like I'm already there. Yes, a little more... but then he comes with a deep moan and I think it's over.

Don't guys stop when they're done? That's what I've always imagined. But Malakai isn't like one of those guys. He keeps going until I'm at my breaking point. When I come, and the world stops existing around me for a second, he holds me tighter, kissing me fiercely.

After our... sexual adventures, we go to the bedroom and Malakai hits the sack straight away. Here I was, complaining about sleeping in the same bed as him, and now I've fucked him on the couch and we're lying in bed, the tension almost absent.

Still, I'm on a mission, and I can't forget that, no matter what this guy does to my bodily instincts. Part of me still hates myself for lusting for someone I would've been absolutely repulsed by not too long ago. The other part of me, though? It has no regrets.

I watch Malakai sleep, and it calms me down for some reason. He looks like he has nothing to worry about. Like he’s untouchable. And he's made himself that way, of course, except he does want me to touch him everywhere.

Sleeping soundly like doesn’t have secrets worth hiding, Malakai seems like a powerful figure now rendered powerless by the might of slumber. He’s stretched out beside me, his breathing deep and even, one arm thrown over his face, his body relaxed in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

The sheets are barely covering him, the glow of the city lights filtering through the window casting soft shadows on his sharp angles, his tattoos, his infuriating, fucking perfect body.

If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he looks… peaceful. Too bad I don’t give a damn about his peace. I swallow hard, my heart hammering, my pulse a traitorous rhythm against my ribs, because I know what I’m about to do.

I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t. But I have to. Because I need to know the truth.

I need to know why he hates Alex so much. I need to know what leverage he has over him. I need to know how I can use it to gain some kind of control over my own fucking life.

I take a slow, steady breath, sliding out from under his arm, moving carefully, making sure I don’t disturb him. When my feet hit the floor, I wait—watching, listening for any change in his breathing.

Nothing. Still deeply asleep.

I bite my lip, glancing toward the nightstand where his phone sits, the screen dark. My fingers itch.

I move fast, snatching it up and slipping into the bathroom before I can talk myself out of it. I lock the door, sit on the closed toilet lid, and stare down at the device in my hands.

My stomach tightens. This is a mistake. But I’ve already made it. And now? Now, I have to see it through.

I press the side button, and the screen lights up, the time glaring back at me. Face ID.

I exhale, steadying my hands, and sneak back into the room. Fuck it, why am I so stupid? Now I have to be extra careful not to wake him up.

I manage to angle the phone in a way that unlocks it, even though it isn't the easiest task in the world. It almost makes me feel like a seasoned spy.

Sighing quietly, I sneak back into the bathroom. I now have access to all the devil's secrets.

I go straight to his messages. Alex’s name is there, their last exchange from earlier today. I open the thread.

It’s short.

Alex: Please, let’s talk.

Malakai: Meet me after practice.

Then… nothing. I scroll back, frustrated, looking for something, anything that gives me more. But there’s nothing useful.

Just vague messages, subtle threats, Malakai always playing games. I gnaw on my lip, scrolling faster, my frustration building.

Come on. There has to be something.

Then, I stop.

A single picture attachment.

My stomach sinks as I tap it open.

A photo from the night of the party.

Alex—wasted, sloppy, completely wrecked, some girl on her knees in front of him, her hands on his thighs, his head thrown back.

I inhale sharply, my grip tightening on the phone. I suspected he wasn't up to any good at the party, but this? I never imagined he'd break his vows this way. I had my doubts, but seeing the proof that Malakai had this over him the whole time? It’s different. It makes everything feel more real.

I close the photo, my heart pounding harder now. I need more.

Because this still doesn’t explain why Malakai is so obsessed with ruining him. I flick out of the messages, hesitating for only a second before tapping into his banking app.

I don’t know what I’m expecting. But I don’t expect this.

Large deposits. Huge sums of money. All coming from one name. When I see that name, my breath catches. I almost scream, but stop myself somehow.

Alexander Callahan Sr.

The church.

The fucking megachurch.

Malakai has been getting money from Alex’s father. My head spins, my stomach twisting painfully, because what the fuck does this mean?

I stare at the screen, trying to piece it together, trying to make it make sense. Why the hell would Alex’s father be paying Malakai? What kind of hold does Malakai have on him? How the hell does Alex fit into all of this?

My hands are shaking. I’ve found something. Something big. But I don’t know how to use it yet.

I close the banking app, taking one last look at the phone in my hands.

I sit there for a while longer, breathing heavy, mind reeling from what I just discovered. I don’t know what this means yet.

But I do know one thing. Malakai is hiding more than I ever fucking realized.