by S. L. Naeole
“How long was I asleep…in your lap?”
Chuckling, Mal pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Maybe forty minutes or so. Not that long. You being in my lap helped me handle some business matters a bit more calmly than I would have normally and I was able to close a few deals with a much better outcome than I expected as a result. I might just have to keep you here, now.”
Sweetness in his voice melted over me and I snuggled closer, lifting my face to welcome his mouth against mine. His lips were sweet from tea, and I licked his bottom lip, savoring the taste of him. “I like being here, too.”
Smiling at my confession, he nipped at my mouth before twisting the chair around and reaching for the intercom button on his desk phone. “Hannah. Ralph will be up in a few minutes so you can shut down. Have a great weekend.”
Before she could respond, Mal reached around the phone and yanked at the power cord. Wide-eyed, I stared as he reached beneath his desk and pressed something. A quiet hiss filled the air and then the glass windows and double doors fronting Mal’s office fogged over, turning an opaque white.
“H-how?” I stuttered, my head whipping around from side to side.
Laughing, Mal took my hand and pulled it under the desk where my fingers found the button he’d pressed. He pushed my finger into the switch and the glass cleared, revealing Hannah grabbing her purse as Ralph stood with a single lily in his hand. They both turned to gaze through the glass at us and I waved shyly as Ralph grinned.
Mal continued to laugh as he pushed my finger again and the glass fogged over once more, hiding Ralph, Hannah, and the outside world. Before I could ask anything else about what exactly caused the glass to change, Mal pulled my hand away from the desk and pressed my palm against his mouth. His lips pushed firmly against my skin before his tongue peeked out to trace the deep crease that ran across my hand.
“This is your head line,” he whispered into my skin. “It tells me that you’re a creative person, someone who appreciates the beauty in everything around you.” He licked again, this time at a faint crease below each of my knuckles. “This is your heart line. It’s not whole, which tells me that your heart has been terribly hurt.”
My breath hitched in my throat as he pressed tiny kisses along that broken crease. “It’s my job to make sure that it’s never hurt again, and I take my job very seriously, sweetheart.” His lips moved nearer to my thumb. There he nipped at the crease that ran down toward my wrist. “This line right here, tells me that you had to make a sudden change, something that altered your life irrevocably.”
Each word that left his mouth pushed his heated breath across my skin, sending ribbons of need weaving with my nerves, my veins, my blood. He knew me. He knew me better than anyone, it seemed, and whatever magic he was casting as he kissed my hand had me completely spellbound. My thighs began to quiver, and a slow, hot pulse began between them as he licked up my palm, stopping just beneath the bottom of my middle finger.
“This line is special. Not everyone has one,” he breathed. “It’s your fate line. It tells about your destiny.”
I watched him, as he laved that line, starting from the heel of my hand and moving up, pushing past it before taking my middle finger into his mouth and suckling on it, his gaze holding mine, trapping it in its hazel cage. Gasping, I barely registered the moisture that slicked the bare skin of my thighs and caused them to slip against each other. “What does that line say?” I asked huskily.
His eyes darkened, his teeth clamping onto the tip of my finger as my breaths came out in quick, heavy pants of need. “It says that you’re mine.”
A small, weak sound slipped out of me as his mouth crashed down on mine, his tongue pushing past my teeth to war with me. My hands moved to clasp his head but his hands grasped my wrists and held them back, slowing bringing them down to my lap. The minute the pressure of his hands pushing down on mine met my thighs I moaned, oversensitive and overwhelmed with need.
“I want you to trust me right now, baby,” he panted into my mouth. “Trust me to know what to do, know what you need, know what you want.”
My head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “I do. I do, Mal.”
And then his hands left my wrists, one moving to the nape of my neck, the other to the back of my head. One thumb pushed beneath my jaw, tilting my head back slightly, while the hand and the back of my head prevented me from tilting too far. He was positioning my head, I realized. His mouth lowered, his tongue licking in the dip that formed between my jaw and neck. His mouth traveled along that dip until it reached my pulse. I knew he would find it thrumming.
His breath blew hot and cold against the moisture he created on the hummingbird beat of my pulse point. His thumb moved to the other side of my neck and pressed down. The hand behind my head slid forward, and then his other thumb pressed the moist spot of my other pulse point. He lifted his head to gaze at me as he applied an even pressure on both, watching as my pulse slowed and an incredible wave of euphoria moved over me, curling in my head and fogging my vision.
“Mal,” I whispered, recognizing the sensation that always accompanied the orgasms he gave me.
“Shh,” he quieted. “Trust me, Victoria. Trust me, baby.”
Licking my lips, I nodded, watching him through hooded lids as he lifted his thumbs and kissed me, the flood of blood moving up to my head acting like an amplifier for the sensation of his tongue, lips, heat. I felt everything almost as two different people, one as the wielder of my body, and the other as the wielder of my very soul. His teeth scraping along the inner plumpness of my bottom lip could have been a thousand nips on my entire body. His tongue lapping inside my mouth could have been a million wet strokes against my neck, my breasts, my thighs.
So many sensations flooded me, so many urges pushed me forward. My body jerked against his as my nipples scraped against the fabric of my dress. His hands left my neck and followed the curves of my shoulders, skimming over the beaded points of my breasts, the slight dip of my waist, over the roundness of my hips. They moved over my thighs and then pushed beneath the hem of my dress, each finger trailing over my bare thighs until they found the dampness there.
I blushed.
“Oh, baby. You’re so wet,” he said, amazed.
“You always make me that way,” I confessed.
With a growl, his hands moved beneath my dress to my hips and he lifted me off his lap. Before I could register what was happening, I was on his desk, my feet pressed flatly against the armrests of Mal’s chair, my thighs open and the dress falling into the vee they made. My ass was perched on the edge of the black wood, the papers that had been there now seated beneath me.
Slowly, with infinite care, Mal pulled the hem of my dress back. Inch by inch, he revealed the pale skin of my thighs. My breath lodged deep in my throat as with each bit of skin revealed, he moved his chair closer to the desk. My thighs widened as a result.
Mal’s breath quickened.
He licked his lips.
I licked mine.
And then the hem of my dress was bunched at my hips and I was completely exposed to his rapt and hungry gaze. “So beautiful,” he breathed as his hands pushed against my thighs, spreading me wider. His thumbs carefully traced over the still red scars from my episode in his shower, his touch both an acknowledgment and an acceptance of them. My blush covered my body, even my thighs as his thumbs brushed gently over my swollen outer lips.
“I’ve waited so long for this. Don’t tell me to stop, love. Don’t tell me you don’t want this, sweetheart.”
The plea in his voice cracked my heart, shattering any residual walls that remained as I let my head fall back, my arms growing slack until they bent at the elbows. Understanding this final capitulation, Mal growled and leaned forward in his chair. His thumbs parted me, exposing me to the heated wash of his breath. My body was shaking, vibrating with anticipation and desire.
“Mal,” I said, my own plea.
Fat, wet, hot—his tongue laved up my damp s
lit and I shuddered.
I’d never felt something so distinctly, my body so sensitive to every nuance of texture. The rough of his tongue, the slickness of it, the thickness of it. I felt everything with that single lick, and I wanted. I wanted. I fucking wanted.
“More,” I panted.
“Yes,” he rumbled before narrowing his tongue and licking me once more, from the bottom upward, the tip of his tongue parting my inner lips slightly and flicking at the cluster of nerves concentrated at the top of my slit. “Baby, you taste like not enough.”
His voice vibrated against my sensitive skin, intensifying the building sensations within me. Each act, each touch was a calculated move, layering me with awareness, feeling, and excitement. When his licks grew more insistent, probing, I felt that excitement shimmer through me and exit my body in a protracted groan. When his tongue curled around my clit, I nearly screamed from the anticipation that instinctually my body built up.
Suddenly, without warning, without preamble, he began to suckle, and my body jerked up as each nerve situated beneath his tongue sparked up in unison. His fingers circled the entrance of my core, rubbing, spreading the moisture there as his thumbs dipped in and out of me in time to my own rapidly climbing heartbeat.
Sucking, stroking, breathing.
Suck.
Stroke.
Breathe.
“Ohhhhh,” I groaned as the coil within me pulled in tighter and tighter, my body inching closer toward that burst of unrelenting energy that I wanted, needed to course through me.
My feet pushed against the arms of his chair, but he didn’t budge. My fingers grasped the edge of his desk, the blunt edges of my short fingernails digging into the wood. He pushed both thumbs into me, spreading me open as his tongue plunged into the opening he created, filling me with the heat of his mouth in the most intimate of kisses. Each thrust of his tongue was pleasure immeasurable, each lick the fountain of eternal desire, each suckle on my clit a universe filled with stars of my own making.
The sound of wet suction, deep breaths, and shuddering groans filled the office and they combined with the thunder of my heart and the electricity of his touch to enrobe me in a cocoon of sensory ferocity. My hips lifted, pushing into his mouth, and as he growled in approval, as his hands moved to cup my ass and lift me even closer, his teeth scraped over my clit and my world completely burst into a million pieces of joy.
My body shook with the intensity of the orgasm as a deep, guttural sound sailed out of my body and into the air. “Mal,” I rasped repeatedly. His name on my lips felt like a benediction. As he continued to assault my senses with his tongue, carrying me through the orgasm as it crested and dipped before cresting again, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would hold nothing back from this man ever again.
My fear was gone.
My nightmares were gone.
He was more than my present. Michael Alan Lachlan was my future, too.
When the tremors wracking my body finally subsided, I found myself pulled back into Mal’s arms, his mouth finding mine and branding me with deep, almost violent kisses. I could taste myself on his lips and tongue, my body igniting at the intimacy of the act and the memory of what had put my essence all over his mouth. His hands were in my hair, my hands were wrapped around the back of his neck.
The sky behind us had grown dark, the office covered in purple inkiness of evening. I couldn’t see his eyes, could barely see his smile, but what I saw warmed me so completely that a languidness came over me and all I wanted to do was snuggle in his lap and forget the world outside.
“I want to take you home and make love to you,” he whispered against my hair.
Or we could do that.
“Yes,” I told him, hoping he could hear the enthusiasm in my voice.
Startled by my response, he pulled away and gaped at me. His hands were still on my body, his body stiff beneath me. “Are you sure?”
Nodding, I brought my hands to cup his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Bursting with energy, Mal leaped off the chair, taking me with him as he lowered me to the ground and spun around the office, a whirlwind of determination. He gathered the remnants of our lunch and threw them away. He bundled up the blanket on the ground and tossed it onto one of the chairs situated around the small black table off to the side. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed a number, speaking low into the receiver that he was ready. Then he bent down, grabbed my bag, and straightened before taking my hand in his and leading me toward the doors.
With a twist of his hand, he unlocked the door and I gasped. I hadn’t even seen him do it!
“I locked it while you were asleep, love. I didn’t want anyone coming in and disturbing you,” he said, reading my mind as usual.
Smiling, I followed him through the doors to the elevators where one car waited empty. We walked in and as soon as he pushed the button for the lobby, we were on each other, his mouth on mine, my hands moving over his body, trying to find a patch of skin, a firm muscle, a wash of heat. Backed into a wall, I lifted my leg to wrap around his thigh as his hands traveled beneath my dress to cup and stroke my naked flesh. My hips undulated in his hands, an ancient dance of knowing, wanting.
“Keep doing that and we won’t make it out of this building,” Mal warned, though that didn’t stop him from pushing a finger into me and sighing from the wetness he encountered. Everything about him, every act, every word, every sound made me feel wild, free in a way that I’d never felt before in my life. Even before Franklyn.
I squirmed against the elevator car wall, needing him, needing more. He started twirling his thumb over the sensitive nub of my clit and I let out a deep, quaking moan. His finger in me was soon joined by another, surging in and out of me in an almost violent ballet as the tension within me grew tighter, more intense.
His kisses were deep, fiery, and when my body finally unfurled into a bone-melting orgasm that took my voice and replaced it with something more sensual, more confident, he smiled into my mouth and licked his approval. “That was fast,” he marveled. “You’re always so responsive. I can’t wait to get you home and see what else you can do.”
Removing his fingers from between my thighs, he straightened my dress while cleaning his fingers with his mouth one by one. I watched, mesmerized, my body already hungry for what that I now knew that mouth could do. He smirked knowingly, and pressed a kiss to my nose. “Soon, love.”
The elevator slid to a stop, the melodic voice announcing that we’d arrived at the lobby. Stepping out of the elevator in the empty lobby felt like something out of a dream. It was just him and me, the world no longer existed. Hand in hand we walked toward the front entrance where a security guard stood waiting. He inserted a large, rectangular key into a hole to the side of him and nodded to Mal. “G’night, Mr. Lachlan,” he said as Mal waved.
“Goodnight, Adolfo,” Mal replied.
We stepped out onto the sidewalk and I smiled at the sight of Lyle standing beside the rear passenger door of Mal’s car. “Hi,” I said to him.
“Good evening, Miss Oh,” he replied with a nod.
Sliding into the back seat, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over me. I was spending the weekend with Mal. I was going home with him. This wasn’t a sleepover. This wouldn’t be a night spent cuddling or fondling. This was it. I was finally giving in and so was he. As he slid in beside me, my eyes lifted to his face, his handsome profile that had made my heart flutter from the first moment I took it in.
This man had changed the world in my eyes, and he was changing his life for me as well. How the hell did I get so lucky?
“Ready, sweetheart?” he asked as he turned to me.
“More than you know,” I breathed before taking his hand in mine.
The corners of his mouth lifted, his lips thinning as he smiled so broadly it swept the very air out of my lungs and filled it with something else, something warm and sweet and almost suffocating in
its density. “Then let’s go home.”
Home had never sounded so good before.
Anticipation sat heavy in my stomach as we drove to Mal’s apartment. It grew heavier as we rode in the elevator. And the moment we stepped over the threshold into his apartment, it collided with impatience and overwhelming desire.
I heard the slap of my bag as it hit the floor. I smelled the scent of Mal as his jacket and shirt came off and were tossed somewhere. I felt his hands at the buttons of my dress, plucking them one by one until he pushed the fabric away from my body, the straps slipping off my shoulders. The dress made no sound as it hit the floor, but the minute my naked body was exposed to his gaze, Mal made an inscrutable grunt as his eyes raked me from top to bottom.
“So fucking perfect,” he groaned.
My hands moved to help him with his belt, his fingers and mine warring with each other to undo the buckle and pull out the leather strap as quickly as possible. The minute it clacked to the floor, my hands were at the clasp of his pants, tugging until it was free. The zipper slid down easily next and as his slacks slid down his body, my hands pushed at his underwear to follow.
“So bold,” Mal whispered appreciatively.
“So ready,” I countered, as my hand moved to circle his shaft, my fingers unable to touch each other once his width fit into my palm.
His own hand reached between my thighs and slid against my slickness, eliciting a wicked grin. “I can feel that.”
Without another word, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to his bedroom, the tip of his shaft slapping my bottom with each step. I licked his neck, the saltiness there encouraging my body, a writhing bundle of need and want. Everything about Mal was a need and a want from me. I needed him. I wanted him. And the minute my body touched the mattress, there was no denying it any longer.
