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Nothing is stopping a single thing from happening between us except for the thin string of my own willpower. Because I really would like more things to happen between us, and the fact that it’s wrong on so many levels just makes me want it more.
So, I guess thrilled. Nervous. Excited. And utterly unsure of my next move. Malcolm is waiting for a response, too, and I can’t just ignore him. I lick my lips and inhale slowly, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing.
“I don’t not like it,” I admit finally. “It’s sort of a crazy thing to say, but still. I like it.”
His grin comes slowly, one-sided before it takes over his entire face while he sits there like a king surveying his kingdom and everything within it. “Maybe you’re a good girl after all, then. Shut the door, and then come and stand in front of me.”
I do as I’m told. What he’s asking isn’t out of my comfort zone, at least not yet, so there’s nothing morally making me stop. I walk to the library door, my bare feet silent on the carpet, and pull it fully shut.
There’s no lock on it because who would lock a library? But Malcolm hasn’t exactly given me the idea that he’s all too worried about a locked door. Then I make my way back over to him.
I stand a few feet away from Malcolm, but he shakes his head once, crooking his fingers so I come a few more steps forward. I do so, walking closer and closer until I’m almost between his legs.
He rumbles his approval, moving to pour himself another glass of port from the carafe, and settling back into his kingly pose.
“Now undress,” he commands after his first sip of the new glass. “Slowly.”
My mouth hangs open for a second, but I manage to shut it and quickly go over the possibilities in my head. Am I really going to listen to Malcolm and undress in front of him like some exotic dancer?
One glance at the fire in his eyes for me has me making up my mind. Yes. Yes, I am.
The fact that I inspire that much desire in this man who can obviously have anyone and anything he wants is a heady feeling. I’m still equally nervous and at a loss about what to do, so I’m mighty glad he’s taking the reins.
And the way he sounds so bossy and demanding? Oh god, it’s so unbelievably hot, my thighs cinch together.
I let my oversized flannel slide down my arms and hit the floor first, leaving me in just a fitted crop tank and jeans. I don’t try to make this some sort of sexy dance or anything like that.
This encounter isn’t about that, I can already tell. The primal longing between the two of us is too powerful to make this any sort of game, so I don't even try.
I strip, my breath coming faster and faster with each piece of clothing that hits the ground. Malcolm doesn’t say anything. He just drinks his port and watches me with ever-darkening eyes.
Once I’m down to just my bra and underwear, he sets the glass to the side and leans forward, the muscles bunching in his arms and making his shirt strain at the seams. Elbows on his knees now, he watches me take off the last few pieces of clothing.
The hunger flaring in his eyes almost sends me over to the edge.
I’m fully naked. Holy crap, I’m fully naked in front of Malcolm Mayfield…and he looks like it’s taking every ounce of his control not to lunge forward and pull me to him.
The chill air of the room battles with the heat of the fire over my bare skin, and as the minutes pass, I can’t tell if I’m feeling turned on, embarrassed, or both. Probably both, if I’m being honest with myself.
Finally, without words, he reaches forward and rests his hands on my hips. I’ve been waiting so anxiously for his touch that even this simple caress almost makes me moan.
Malcolm pulls me forward, and there’s no lead-up between that tug forward and his mouth closing over one of my nipples.
Lust whips across my nerves, the shock of the feeling almost making me lose my balance. He sucks, and his other hand finds the other taut peak with his fingers, tugging and rolling until I’m afraid my legs really will give out.
The sensations go from my nipples straight to my core, and I know I’m becoming visibly wet for him, but there’s nothing for me to do but tilt my head back and let all this delicious torture happen to me.
My fingers card through his hair when he switches from nipple to nipple, over and over, and just when I think I’m about to scream, he pulls away and starts working at the buttons of his own shirt.
He’s quick, and his shirt joins mine on the ground, and then Malcolm is on me again. This time, his hands squeeze and knead my asscheeks while his mouth works over me.
Once I’m back to the same level of crazy, one of his hands snakes to the front of my body, and he covers my pussy with one huge palm, making me spread my legs just a little.
Malcolm’s other hand grabs my head and pulls me into a kiss just as his fingers part my folds and start to caress. I run my hands over his chest, each expanse of muscle and warm bronze skin making me feel even weaker than before.
Seeing his tattooed arms, the twisting mass of dark colors and shapes, make so little sense when combined with the put-together businessman I know him to be, but I love them.
His finger grazes my clit and I almost jump out of my skin. Malcolm kisses me in the same rhythm he fingers me, his thumb making tight little circles over my clit while his other fingers start a slow exploration of my channel.
