Page 52 of Below the Barrel

“Koa, stop!” I rush forward, grabbing his arm, my voice breaking. “Please, stop!”

He pauses, breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he stands over Charles. His eyes are wild with fury, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tight I think they might snap. Then he turns to me, and the intensity in his gaze makes me shrink back.

“He fucking touched you, Mal!” His voice is raw, full of venom. “Do you even get that?”

I flinch at his words, my heart racing for a different reason now. I’m at a loss for how to respond, my thoughts still tangled from what just happened. But before I can speak, Koa pushes himself off Charles, his body trembling with barely contained anger.

Without another word, he grabs my wrist as he storms past me, yanking me behind him. I stumble after him, barely able to keep up with his long angry strides as we push through the crowd, out of the pub and into the cool night air. My wrist stings where he’s gripping it, but I don’t say anything. I don’t even think I could if I wanted to.

He drags me to the car, still furious, his jaw clenched tight as he pulls open the door. I slide into the passenger seat silently, my heart pounding in my chest. The silence between us is thick,suffocating. He slams the door shut and rounds the front of the car, slamming his door behind him too and gripping the steering wheel so hard I think it might break under the pressure.

The entire drive back to the penthouse is filled with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and the roar of the engine, rage simmering between us, threatening to explode at any moment. My heart pounds, not just from the fear of what almost happened in the back of that pub, but from the energy radiating off Koa.

We pull into the parking garage thirty minutes later, and the car comes to a screeching stop. Koa is out before I can even unbuckle my seatbelt, opening my door for me and then slamming it shut as soon as I’m out. My legs feel shaky as I follow him into the building and up the elevator.

The moment we step into the penthouse, the tension boils over.

“What the hell were you thinking, Maliah?” he snaps, pacing in front of me like a caged animal. “Dancing with Charles? Letting him take you off like that?”

My chest tightens. “I wasn’t—I didn’t let him?—”

“Does it even matter?” he cuts me off, his eyes blazing. “You could have been hurt. He could’ve?—”

“I know!” I yell, my voice breaking. “I know, okay? I was just—I was trying to—” I don’t even know what I was trying to do anymore. Distract myself? Punish Koa for what he said earlier? Make sense of the chaos between us?

But it all sounds so stupid now, standing here in front of him, seeing the hurt and fury in his eyes.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Koa’s voice drops, lower, more dangerous. He steps closer to me, his presence overwhelming. “No one can mess with you. With us. I can’t…I can’t lose you, Maliah.”

My heart skips a beat at his words, but I try to push it down. “We’re moving too fast, Koa,” I say, my voice trembling. “We need to slow it down. We should?—”

“What?” he scoffs, closing the distance between us in one stride. “Go back to being friends?”

His words sting, and I try to hold my ground. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore. It’s all so confusing.”

“I don’t care about labels, Mal,” he says, his voice rough. “We don’t have to call it anything. We don’t need a title. We can just be us. Koa and Maliah. That’s it.”

His voice is raw, and it hits something deep inside me. I’m still angry, still scared, but hearing him say that…it does something to me. I stare at him, my chest heaving, and the next thing I know, he’s closing the gap between us, pulling me towards him in one swift motion. His lips crash against mine, rough and demanding, and all the pent-up anger, frustration, and fear explodes between us.

I kiss him back, hard, my hands fisting in his shirt as I push him towards my bedroom. His hands are everywhere—tugging at my clothes, pulling me closer, like he can’t get enough of me. And maybe I can’t get enough of him either.

We stumble inside, and the second my back hits the mattress, he’s on me, his weight pressing me down, his mouth hot against my neck, my collarbone, anywhere he can reach. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them apart, and I arch against him, needing him in a way that scares me.

“I need you, Mal,” he breathes against my skin, his voice thick with desperation. “I don’t care what we call it. I just need you.”

“Then take me,” I whisper, my voice shaking with want.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. His lips claim mine again, and before I know it, he’s fingering me. His touch is demanding, almost possessive, as he thrusts his fingers into mewith an intensity that leaves me gasping, moaning his name like it’s the only thing that matters. He keeps going until I’m shaking, blubbering nonsense, and the sheets are soaked.

He gently removes his fingers, and I watch in fascination as he slides them into his mouth, a low growl escaping him.

“You always taste so good,” he says as he unbuttons his pants, pushing them lower to allow his cock to spring free.

I stare at it in bewilderment, always shocked at the sheer size of it. He gently strokes it as I watch, a bead of pre-cum forming on the head. He uses his thumb to spread it around before he positions himself at my entrance and thrusts into me. I gasp at the feeling of him, my pussy fighting to allow him fully inside.

This isn’t ‘making love’ sex, this is wild and messy and raw, and I can feel how much he needs this—how muchweneed this. It doesn’t take long for me to come again, the sound of his name on my lips. Everything else in the world fades away as his thrusts become more frantic and his breath heavy and ragged in my ear.

Every thrust is hard, purposeful, as if he’s trying to pour everything he feels into me—his anger, his need, his desperation. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten and coil, like he’s holding onto control by the thinnest thread.

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