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He’s the only one who ever made me feel special, who made me feel like I deserve a place in this world, who respected my boundaries, and who looked out for me without expecting anything in return.
But…
I know this is probably my sign to leave…my sign that this romantic fairytale interlude with Malcolm is finished, but it seems so impossible. The passion between us, the furious connection, hasn’t faded with the weeks.
I thought for sure once we came together physically that it would lessen somewhat, but that just isn’t the case. Instead, that connection…that bond has just gotten deeper and more nuanced, until now when I… I…
I love him.
How is it that I can only admit it to myself when the entire universe is shouting that this whole thing is over? It isn’t fair. I can’t give him up now. But this isn’t Cinderella, and there is no glass slipper.
He’ll never forgive me, and I know for a fact that I will never forgive myself, but there’s nothing else to be done. It’s time for me to admit that my destiny isn’t here. It’s somewhere in the lower glass world where I’ve always belonged.
As he pulls back and wipes my cheek, Malcolm must have seen what I’m thinking in my expression because a muscle ticks in his jaw and he says softly but firmly, “You aren’t leaving, Melody.”
“Malcolm…”
“I said no!” he snaps, taking my face in both of his hands and cradling it there. “We are not going to let some fucking bullshit story ruin us, Melody. We are not going to let Adam or anyone else win. ”
I know I shouldn’t but I lean my cheek into his palm, taking comfort in the familiar warmth. “I really want to believe you…but you deserve so much more than me, Malcolm. I am nobody. I am nothing.”
“You are everything, Melody. My everything.” I can tell the words are hard for stoic, stubborn Malcolm to say, which makes them mean even more to me. “In a few months, no one will remember this even happened, and we can go on with our lives. Don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same connection like I do. I’ve wanted you, known that you were meant for me, from the very first second of knowing you.”
There should be some argument inside of me, but there just isn’t. All the things he’s saying are so sweet and wonderful and hopeful that I just want to drown in it and forget what happened downstairs.
Before him, every day just bled into the next. It was work, eat, sleep, repeat. It was all about survival.
With him, I lived. I actually lived every day and loved every minute of it. I woke up and slept happy, knowing there’s someone I’m sharing my life with, someone who makes me smile and laugh, someone who makes me scream his name in pleasure.
I can delete social media, never see the video, and just pretend…
I’m still lost in these thoughts when Malcolm kneels between my legs, still cupping my face, and kisses me. It’s gentle but only for a second.
Malcolm takes control as soon as I let him, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he’s trying to drink down any complaint or argument I might have.
My arms find their way around his neck, and then he’s crawling over me onto the bed, making me lie back with him. He lets go of me so he can support his weight, but then he grinds into me, his cock perfectly placed between my legs even with us both dressed so formally, and I gasp.
Everything that’s stressing me out right now at the moment blinks out of existence, replaced by a primal need for this man right here and now.
Malcolm must feel the same because he repeats the action, never breaking the kiss. He doesn’t bother undressing me, just pulling the full skirts up until he can once again touch my pussy with only my lace panties in the way.
There’s a frantic note to the way we touch each other, and before I know it, he has me flipped over and his groin pressing against my ass.
“Grab the headboard,” he demands, and I do.
Malcolm gathers my skirts again, pushing them up and around my middle until he can jerk my panties down to my knees, where the fabric basically hobbles me.
A surprised cry comes out of me when I feel him kissing the few bare inches of my spine, right to the globes of my ass, before he rises up and his hands take his mouth’s place.
One hand goes underneath me, fingers dipping into my soaked channel and dragging that wetness to my clit, working it in circles before repeating the motion again. It’s so intoxicating that I don’t even notice what his other hand is doing.
Malcolm has licked his thumb and is circling the tight ring of my asshole with it. I tense up, and he stops. “I want to claim every inch of you, Melody, but if this is too much…”
I shake my head, wet heat blooming between my thighs. I want him to have his way with me. I’m already shaking with the need to have his mouth or hands or thick girth in me.
He plants a kiss on one asscheek and drawls, “Words, Melody. You can tell me to stop and I will.”
“No! Don’t!”
