Page 212 of Emylia

“I want you,” I said, breathless, desperate. “I want all of you.”

He arched a brow. “Not until you moan my name.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What in Nexus?”

His eyes turned darker. Deeper. “Not until you lose yourself to it. Completely.”

“But I need you,” I begged. “Please.”

“Not yet.”

He tasted his fingers, humming at the flavor like it was his favorite sin. “You taste like fucking divinity.”

My breath caught. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. He knelt between my legs again, licking a trail over my thighs, slow and torturous, claiming my juices for himself.

Then, without warning, his mouth latched onto my clit with devastating focus. I screamed. My body bucked off the bed as he devoured me with skill and savagery.

He worshiped every tremble, every gasp. My release came fast and hard—and then again.

And again.

I couldn’t stop it.

I didn’t want to.

“Maalik!”

There it was. My plea.

He pulled back only to rip the last barrier between us away, his body hot and heavy and ready. When he settled between my thighs, I didn’t hesitate.

“Please,” I whispered. “Now.”

He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “Are you sure?”

I wrapped my legs around his hips, dragging him down.

“Claim me.”

He drove into me in a single, deep thrust, tearing a gasp from my lungs. But there was no pain. Only stretch. Sweet, perfect fullness. A fit that felt like it had been carved from fate itself.

He paused, trembling above me. “Gods, you feel... fuck.”

“Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He moved, slow at first, then harder—thrusts deep and punishing. My nails raked down his back as his mouth crashed into mine, consuming every moan, every whimper.

“Say my name again,” he growled.

“Maalik,” I breathed.

“Fuck, you wreck me.”

I was spiraling.

Falling.

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