Page 21 of The Deity of Death

How can I not? He’s offering us everything we wanted for Remington Oil while simultaneously fulfilling my childish dream of a perfect wedding.

As he pulls back, the smile never fades. Even as he returns to business with Dad. “I’ll remain a shadow on your board with voting interests. You’ll get the oil at a much fairer price. And in turn, you’ll be welcomed to the same services I offered Omar.”

Malik still hasn’t removed his hand from my dress. He starts moving it slowly, allowing his knuckles to grind against my clit, and though my breathing hastens, I fight back any urges to make a sound. There will be time for that later when Dad’s gone to bed.

“Let’s not pretend you’re going back to life as normal with our oil. The second you boarded your plane in London and traveled here, you knew a target was put on your back.” How does he do it? Talk like nothing is happening, while under the table, he’s giving in to his deepest desires?

I’m not even speaking, and I'm a mess, panting and twitching, while I try and hold an ounce of decorum.

“Fine. The deal as agreed,” Dad yields. “We all know I could use a bruiser in my corner.”

“And who better than the Deity of Death?” Malik chuckles.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll let you two talk about wedding preparations.” Dad sucks down his last swallow and gets up from the table.

“Night, Dad,” I say, right before Malik drives another thrust against my sensitive bud.

“Goodnight, love.” And with that, he walks off, whistling a happy tune that falls silent as his bedroom door shuts.

“So, are we going to talk about the wed?—”

“No fucking chance,” Malik cuts me off before flinging his mouth onto mine again.

15

MALIK

Ican’t control myself around her. Melina only has to breathe to send me into a wild frenzy. I’m almost jealous of her ability to control me this well. It’s a skill that took me years to learn, and she isn’t even trying to make it happen.

Parting from her lips, I trail kisses down her feverish skin, lingering on her neck. The sweet vanilla fragrance coating her skin drives me wild.

“Shouldn’t we go somewhere private?” she says but takes no action to stop me.

“I can’t wait that long,” I blurt out between smothering myself against her flesh. My cock’s rock hard, pressing at the zipper of my trousers and fighting to be set free. “I need you now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Melina hooks her arm around my neck and pulls herself onto my lap. She tilts her head to the side, giving me even better access to what my hungry mouth craves.

Her hands instantly fall between our bodies and latch onto my aching erection. I’m so sensitive, even the slightest touch is enough to make me howl in delight.

My hands find their way up her body, and I hook my fingers in the neckline of her dress. One hard tug is enough to tear the top in two. Her tits spill out of the remnants with a satisfying jiggle inside her see-through red bra.

She looks down at her naked body and then back up at me. Naughty eyes glare through batted lashes while her teeth sink into her lower lip. She releases my cock with one hand, and the other finds its way to the back of my neck. With one hard tug, she forces my face between her tits. Melina doesn’t have to ask; I’ll obey her every whim.

“Yes, ma’am,” I growl against her soft skin.

I start lapping and licking at any skin my tongue can touch—between her cleavage, over the squishy mountain, and onto the bra. Using the tip, I lash at her perky, pointy nipples, soaking the material with rivers of drool pouring from my mouth.

She moans and starts bucking her hips as if we were already fucking. But every bounce is enough for her hand, still clutching my girth to stroke it hard and fast.

Fuck me, if I’m not careful, I’m going to shoot my load into my boxers.

Better get inside of her first. I’m not going to waste my seed when it could be inside her womb instead.

I shove a hand under her ass and lift her into the air. She’s so light, I barely feel like I’m carrying anything. But the suddenshift in position makes her yelp and giggle, with moans slipping in between my vicious tongue lashings.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, but I can’t reply. My mind and my body are on two separate wavelengths.

Still hoisting her up, I let my free hand move across the table. A single motion that sends glasses and papers scattering and shattering across my dining room floor.

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