by Snow, Jenika
Claiming.
He slammed his cock inside me so hard I felt the bed rock back and forth, the headboard slamming against the wall.
“I’ll never get enough.” His breath moved along the arch of my throat, and he ran his teeth and tongue over my neck, down my collarbone, and stopped at one of my breasts. I felt shivers racing along every inch of me. I felt hypersensitive.
Malkolm was almost languid in his motions, in the way he bit and licked at my flesh, in the way he moved inside me. But he never stopped tormenting me in the best of ways. He kept me right on the precipice of climaxing.
My pussy clenched around him, and he gritted out, “Christ.”
Then he lost it and really started fucking me.
Our identical, panting breaths filled the room, surrounding me. I arched my back, my breasts thrust out, and closed my eyes.
“God,” he groaned, and I swore I saw—felt—his muscles straining even more, becoming even more pronounced. “Fucking hell, baby.” He slammed into me, pressing his body against the bundle of nerves at the top of my pussy, my clit throbbing, and sending sensations spiraling through me. “Christ.”
I gasped, and it was as if the sound was an accelerant to him, because a second later, he slammed his mouth on mine. But he kept fucking me, kept thrusting against me, giving me more, his movements almost frantic.
On the third time, he buried himself all the way inside me, both of us moaning at the intensity, my eyes wide as sparks of pleasure stole my breath. His huge body shook, and the sound of his pleasure, of him grunting and groaning, had my own orgasm rising higher.
“Mine,” he roared out as he filled me up, and God did he ever. I felt him coming in me, those hot, thick jets of his seed filling me to the brim.
The pleasure was never-ending. And all I could do was clutch him, hold on as he wrung every ounce of ecstasy from me. And when I grew too sensitive, only then did his body still atop mine. He kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, my closed eyelids, and then moved off me.
I felt the coldness of the air. I shivered, but he was pulling me close to his chest a second later, holding me tight, keeping me warm. He used his big, muscular body to protect me, to keep me warm, to make me feel like I was the only woman in the world for him.
“You are,” he murmured, his voice thick from what we’d just done, husky and sleep-filled. I wasn’t even embarrassed I'd said that out loud. I did want to be his, only his, and knowing he wanted that too had this tingling warmth surrounding me.
Our chests were pressed together, my head right over his heart. I felt the steady, lulling beat of it and felt a small smile tug my lips. I tilted my head back and looked up at him, and I was shocked to see he already watched me, this possessive gleam in his eyes.
His hands tightened around me, and he leaned down and kissed me soundly on the lips.
“I meant it when I said I wasn’t letting you go, that you’re mine.”
I realized, as I looked into his eyes after he pulled back, that all the waiting, all the loneliness, was worth it. I felt like all of it was worth it. Because right here, right now, I was finally with the man I loved. And I did love him. Because feeling like this for another human couldn’t be chalked up to desire or lust. It was more of a soul-deep connection that might not make sense to anyone else, but to me—to us—it was perfect.
And I was ready to see what lay ahead of us. I was ready to see how intricate our futures would be with each other in our lives.
9
Flora
Two months later
I couldn’t help but smile as I sat on the couch in Malkolm’s living room and watched as he attempted to make me dinner. I was twisted around on the cushions, one arm slung over the back, the smile I was trying to suppress still making an appearance.
Over the last two months, I felt myself growing more comfortable with Malkolm and how fast our relationship had progressed. I loved him. He loved me. And everything we did with each other, experienced with each other, opened my eyes that good things did come to those who waited.
“Shit,” Malkolm cursed and started shaking his hand, looking at the burn with a scowl.
“You okay?” I called out, but when he started cursing about boiling water, I couldn't help but chuckle.
“I’m fine, just screwing dinner up.”
The look he threw over his shoulder at me said he felt like he was failing. And my heart filled with love for him all over again. “I know you said you wanted to cook me dinner all on your own, but… need some help?”
“No.” He shook his head and looked back at the stove. “No, you just sit there and let me do this. I want to do this for you.”
I smiled at that and kept my mouth shut. Even if what he was cooking was burned, I’d still eat it and love it.
He grumbled, “This needs to be just right for my girl,” which of course had a very feminine sigh of love and appreciation leaving me.
The scents that came from the kitchen were… unique, that was for sure. I wasn't even sure what he was preparing, because he wanted it to be a surprise. And after another twenty minutes, he finally said dinner was done and for me to come into the kitchen.
“Okay, I think it’s good to go.” He swore again. “I think. I hope.”
I suppressed my smile as I made my way into the kitchen and eyed the little table pressed against the wall. The dishes were mismatched, the glasses too. He’d taken a paper towel and ripped it in two for our napkins, and all of that had me smiling so big.
“Malkolm… it looks perfect.” And I meant that. God, I meant that.
He held the chair out for me, and before sitting down, I rose on my toes to give him a kiss. He let out a growl that had my toes curling, but I pulled away so as not to get sidetracked.
Over the last couple of months, he opened up to me about his life, why he moved out to Sweetheart, and how he started from scratch. I could see why people had been hesitant of him, what with his size and bulk, the tattoos that covered his arms and chest. But he was my gentle giant, and I knew if people just got to know him, they’d fall in love with him just like I had.
Malkolm clearly wasn’t used to cooking for himself, let alone someone else, but the fact that he’d gone to so much trouble for me, to make this as special as he could, warmed my heart.
“So, I wasn’t sure what to make, so I made a little bit of everything.” He started pointing to dishes. “I know your favorite is Italian, so I stuck with that route.”
I smiled as he pointed out the homemade meatballs—emphasis on the homemade—the penne pasta, marinara sauce covering both of those in a thick, delicious-smelling blanket. There was a large dinner salad, oil-and-vinegar dressing—because he remembered that's what I preferred—then the garlic bread, which looked a little crispy and black around the edges, but I’d never seen a better meal in my life.
And it was all because the man I loved made it for me.
“It all looks incredible, Malkolm. Thank you. I love it all.”
He took the seat across from me, and I started helping myself. I was very aware he didn’t eat or serve himself and instead had his focus on me, as if he’d wait until he knew how much I enjoyed what he prepared.
And so I just dug in. Flavor exploded on my tongue, and I felt my eyes widen, not because I was surprised he could actually cook, but because it was absolutely delicious.
“Wonderful,” I said after I swallowed and took a drink of the wine he poured me before he sat down.
“Yeah? I didn’t screw it up too badly?”
I smiled and shook my head. “No way. Try it for yourself and you’ll see I’m not lying.” And as I watched him do just that, I was struck by how normal this was and how much I loved this domestic side of the relationship. I wanted more of it. I wanted it for the rest of my life.
I watched as he ate, finding it so erotic the way his jaw worked, how his throat moved when he swallowed. Malkolm even made eating dinner look masculine and sexy.
We ate
for the next twenty minutes, the conversation light as we talked about our days. I asked him about Broken Hearts and any unique tattoos he’d given recently. He asked me about any new coffee concoctions Tatum and I were creating for Just One More Cup.
When I couldn't eat another bite, I pushed my plate aside, leaned forward, and looked at the scruff that covered Malkolm’s cheeks and chin. He had my heart beating a little harder at how sexy he was, and I felt a secret smile form on my lips.
“What?” he asked after he pushed his plate aside and grabbed his beer. He brought it to his mouth and finished it off, watching me over the rim the entire time.
God, he’s so damn sexy.
I felt desire pool in my belly, heard the way my breathing picked up a little as filthy thoughts and images slammed into my head.
“Nothing,” I lied, my smile widening.
He set the bottle down, and I saw his nostrils flare as he clearly saw how hot I was getting.
I then lowered my gaze to his chest, tracing the way the plain white T-shirt molded against the bulkiness of his shoulders and pecs.
“How about dessert?” he asked and lifted a dark brow as he leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table, his eyes growing hooded as his arousal started to pick up and mimic mine.
“Oh yeah?” I teased. “What did you make for me?” Even I heard the purr in my voice, the teasing temptation that laced my words.
He shifted on the chair, as if he was having a hard time staying still… as if he was getting uncomfortable, like something was getting nice and hard for me.
“What do you want to do now, Malkolm?” I hummed in desire, feeling my arousal take the front seat. My pussy was wet, my nipples hard. I ached for him.
He ran a hand over his mouth, letting out a harsh exhale in the process. I could see the way his pupils dilated, how his chest rose and fell hard. I was working him up nice and good, and we were just sitting across from each other talking… gazing into the other’s eyes.
“I want you,” I was the one to say, to break that thick desire.
He groaned deeply and stood up suddenly, his chair scraping the floor before falling backward from the force of his movements.
And then he was in front of me, had me in his arms, and was striding out of the kitchen and into his room. “Fuck that chocolate cake for dessert,” he growled as he nipped at my throat. “I want you for dessert.”
I gasped in pleasure and tightened my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
I found myself in the center of his bed so quickly that my head spun. He tore his shirt from his body but kept his jeans on, and I found that much more arousing than if he’d been totally nude. The definition of his muscles stood in stark relief. He was so powerful that I felt another gush of wetness soak my pussy, spilling from me as my body prepared itself for the monster cock I knew Malkolm was hiding behind that denim.
“I’m going to fucking devour you, baby,” he growled right before he reached out and, with sure, efficient fingers, got rid of my pants and panties, baring my lower half for him, the part that ached for him the most.
The air moved along my exposed pussy, cooling my overheated flesh, yet burning me alive at the same time.
Raw, unadulterated lust slammed into me, so fast and fierce it nearly took my breath away. “Touch your breasts, roll those tight nipples between your fingers.”
I moaned and cupped the mounds, moving my palms around the globes before taking the nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, and pulling at them until sparks of electricity spread through those twin points and moved right down to my pussy.
“Take the pants off,” I whispered, looking down at the hard, huge length of his cock as it hung down the side of one thigh, secured by the denim, hidden from my view.
He groaned again but took a step back and quickly got rid of the jeans, pushing them down his thickly muscled thighs, finally revealing that huge cock.
I let my gaze latch onto his erection, just stared at it, watched him jerk under my observation, and saw more pre-cum form at the tip before dripping down and onto the floor. God, that’s arousing. I swallowed, feeling my pulse beat in my clit.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby.” He took a step closer. “And if you keep looking at me that way, I’m gonna come before I can even enjoy licking your sweet pussy and tasting your orgasm on my tongue.”
He looked between my splayed legs, and lifted a hand to run it over his mouth. His gaze was scorching, and it took everything in me to breathe as he watched me with hooded eyes. “Tonight is for you. Only you.”
I knew what he was saying, but I wanted his cock pushing deep in my body, stretching me. “But you’re so hard,” I breathed out and looked at his straining erection. He grabbed his shaft and started stroking himself from root to tip for several long seconds.
“Tonight is about you, baby.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and then he groaned deeply, gave his cock a squeeze, and took a step toward me. Malkolm closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, I saw all the heat that had been built up in these few moments was ready to explode from him.
“Spread wider for me, Flora. Let me see what’s mine.” His voice was guttural, almost inhuman. “Let me see your soaking cunt. Let me see what I’m going to be eating out.”
His coarse language sent me reeling, had my desire skyrocketing, and I didn’t even hesitate in doing what he said.
His commands did something to my insides, made me want to give him everything. Anything. I felt weak with need, with tension and desire, and all I wanted was for us to have some kind of physical contact that had all this desire being released.
He watched me for long moments, not speaking, not moving. My heart thundered hard, and I spread my legs wider, so wide my inner muscles were pulled so that the pain and pleasure mixed as one. I did exactly what he wanted, showed him how wet I was. For him. Only him.
Malkolm moved onto the bed, placed his hands on my legs, smoothing them up and twisting his fingers so he was moving along my inner thighs. He went closer to my pussy until he was framing the most intimate part of my body. He stared at me there for so long I started squirming under his gaze.
“God,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking hot.” He lay down on the mattress, his hard stomach flush with the mattress, his warm, humid breath bathing my cunt.
I knew I wouldn’t last one minute when his mouth was finally on me… down there.
“Fuck, I love you,” Malkolm said right before he latched his mouth onto my pussy and started sucking and licking at me with so much need I felt it spear through my core. His tongue did wicked things, moving through my slit, pressing into my opening, before travelling up and sucking on the hidden bundle of nerves at the top of my mound.
He was merciless—just the way I liked it, and I knew I’d always crave this slightly unhinged passion of his.
“I love you,” I gasped, closing my eyes and moaning, my hands tunneled into his hair, pulling at the strands, feeling mindless with my arousal.
And before I could grasp what was happening, he sucked on my clit with long pulls, humming, sending vibrations to that pleasure spot on me, and threw me over the edge. The orgasm rushed forward and stole my very breath, with me grinding my pussy against his face, seeking more, needing so much more I knew I’d be lost without Malkolm.
When the pleasure dimmed, he crawled up my body and just held me close. I could feel how much he desired me still, how his body was hot and hard as his cock dug against me. I felt arousal heat in my belly once more before exploding outward, and with a wicked grin, I pushed myself up and looked down at him, knowing what I wanted to do… what would end this night just right.
His breathing became harsher, his eyes hooded with arousal.
“Let me show you how much I love all you do for me. I want to worship you just like you do me.” I gripped his cock and bent to run the tip of my tongue over the crown, which was already dotted with
pre-cum. “Let me show you how much I love you,” I purred, and he growled, and then I put my money where my mouth was and loved my man as thoroughly as he loved me.
Epilogue One
Malkolm
Two years later
“Aren’t you supposed to be like… nervous or some shit?”
I cut a glance at Ryder, narrowing my eyes, because the asshole was grinning. He turned his focus from me and looked at his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted his bowtie.
“When it's right, it’s right,” I said honestly. “I’ve been waiting to marry my girl for so damn long all I can think is ‘it’s about damn time.’”
He snorted and inclined his head. “True enough.”
Once his bowtie was straightened, he gave himself an appraising look in the mirror. His neck tattoos could be seen creeping up from the collar of his tux, and his dark hair was still in that mussed mess that was his trademark. He ran a finger over the tattoos at his temples, then glanced at me.
“Maybe I should have covered these up for the big day?”
Now it was my turn to snort. “Really?” I asked sardonically. “You know damn well you don’t care about looking all prim and proper, especially when you can make a few people squirm.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. But I would have cleaned up all the way, covering up the ink, if that’s the route you wanted to go for your wedding.”
I smiled, knowing he meant that. Ryder had grown up living an almost mirror-image life as my own. Parents who had been all but non-existent. No real friends. People seeing the ink and piercings and just assuming he was some damn delinquent.
Although I was fucking deliriously happy to finally get this wedding going and call Flora my wife, I also admitted, only to myself, that I was a little nervous. But not because of the whole marriage situation.
I was nervous I wouldn't be a good enough husband for her, that I’d lack somehow, someway. And that ate away at me, no matter how many times she told me she loved me, or that we were meant to be together.
