Page 59 of Little Stranger

Her widening gaze flicks between both of my eyes, and I bury my face in her neck as I rock my hips into her, slamming so hard, the headboard rattles against the wall. I inhale, smelling her hair, the freshness of it, and my cock tingles as it thickens.

“Malachi?”

15

Malachi

Ipause,mylungshalting, my heart restarting as I stay still, as if I just imagined her saying my name. Did she? Or is it her voice in my head again? When I was locked up, I always had conversations with her, but never real ones. I was losing my fucking mind and deluded myself into thinking she was lying beside me some nights.

“Malachi,” she says again, and I pulse inside her, pushing my arm straight so I can get off her.

But she traps me by wrapping her legs around my waist, her lips parted as she erratically looks at my eyes again. Her shaky hand lifts, and I don’t pull away as she slides the balaclava over my chin, my mouth, my nose, then removes it completely.

My black hair, long and falling over my eyes, catches her attention. She brushes her hand through it, her legs still tightly wrapped around my hips as a tear slips from the corner of her eye.

Her gaze follows her fingers, dropping from my hair to trace one of my brows, down the side of my face to my jawline, grazing over the stubble to my lips.

Mesmerized.

Like she hasn’t seen me in over eight years.

I mean, she hasn’t, but I expected her to scream at me to get off her or hit me, to curse at me for what I’ve done—not to do… this. She’s tracing my facial features.

I’m letting her. Instead of making her pay for ruining nearly a decade of my life, I’m letting her touch me so freely, and I love it.

I’m all warm and tingly and I… like it.

Her fingertips are soft. I’ve been so deprived of touch while being locked up that when her palm cups my cheek, I press against it.

“You can talk,” she says, her bottom lip trembling. “You can… You can talk, Malachi.”

I stare down at her, my lips moving but no sound coming out. I shake my head—then freeze all over when she lifts her head and kisses me. Her lips are so fucking smooth and addictive, and I relax into the kiss and part my lips, allowing her tongue to slip in to move against mine. Her taste, her fucking kiss—I had no idea I needed it so much.

She rocks her hips up, and I meet her movements with a slow thrust, both of us gasping into each other’s mouth. She grabs a fistful of my hair and tilts my head to deepen the kiss while I slowly move in and out of her.

She’s soaked, gripping my cock, but I’m more focused on her kissing me, the way she whimpers and fists my hair, the way she controls this as she pushes me off her and climbs on top of me.

Olivia looks like a fucking angel as she straddles my hips, lifting to her knees to hover over my cock then lowering herself so I fill her again. Her hands are on my chest, digging into the thick muscles there as she bounces on my cock. I hold her hips, fucking up into her cunt, gritting my teeth as a deep growl rips from my throat.

She cries out above me, her pussy gripping me like a fist as she slams down onto my thickness, scraping her nails down my chest as her inner walls clutch me through her orgasm. She’s shaking but still bouncing on my cock, taking control as she drops and grinds.

“I want to hear you moan again,” she says, leaning down to grab my throat, dropping her hips on me faster, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Let your little sister hear your voice. I want to feel the vibrations in your throat while you moan for me, Malachi.”

Her forceful words, the way she cuts off my oxygen, and how hard she’s slamming down on my cock makes my balls tighten. I came not long ago, what the fuck is happening?

I go dizzy as I let out another moan and grab her shoulder, keeping her still as I pulse every drop of cum deep inside her.

She collapses on top of me, and I hold her in my arms, my heart pounding in my chest, sweating between us, gasping to draw air into my lungs.

After about ten minutes, she sits up, looking down at me. “Jesus, Malachi. What the hell are you doing?”

She could be asking me a number of things here.

Why did you fuck me while I was unconscious?

Why did you shove a screwdriver in my ass?

The chains? The spider? The cuts and bites and burn marks?

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