Page 28 of Little Stranger

I roll my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

Come to my room.

“No,” I scoff. “Why would I do that?”

Because I want you to show me…He stops and smirks.I want you to teach me what it’s like to have lips like yours around my cock.

I stutter, nearly choking on my cereal, stuck and dry in my throat. “Jesus, Malachi.”

“What did he do this time?” Mom asks, and my spine stiffens. “Are you annoying your sister again? Shouldn’t you be fixing the bike you crashed last night and didn’t tell anyone about?”

My eyes flicker to him, and he ignores Mom.I meant what I said, he signs, kicking his chair back and standing, before tossing the bowl into the sink and walking off.

We have staff in the manor, but they keep themselves busy. The cleaner—I refuse to call her a maid—hates when we leave stuff in the sink.

Mom puts her hands to her hips. “What was that about?”

I shrug, shoving a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. “Is the room nearly ready?”

She goes into a spiel about décor, and the way she wants the furniture to be arranged, and starts showing me pictures on her phone.

When she gives up and goes back to painting, I check my own phone.

Malachi: Waiting.

Me: Bite me.

Malachi: I already did. Move it, or I’ll come down there and drag you up here.

I glare at my phone, fed up with his hot and cold. He just spent weeks blanking me, so he can have the same damn treatment. I call Abbi and ask her to go to the mall, then I run to my room, get dressed, and head down to the garage—but before I can climb into my car, Malachi grabs my plait and slams me against it.

I don’t have a second to think before he kisses me. There’s no romance, no cuteness, just him ravaging me like he’s a starved man while pulling my hair nearly from the roots. He slips his tongue past my lips and moves it against mine, grabbing the back of my knees and lifting me into his arms, slamming me against my car again.

He grinds against my core, already hard, his fingers digging into my ass.

“Malachi,” I breathe as he tugs my hair again. “Cameras.”

If dad were to look at the security system, he’d see his kids kissing, devouring each other like starved animals.

He breaks away from my mouth and pulls my hair to the side, tilting my head and sucking on my pulse beneath my ear so harshly, I know he’ll leave a mark.

I kick my legs out, shoving against his chest, and after a long minute of fighting him, he moves his mouth down my chest, snatching my shirt down to take my nipple into his mouth.

My eyes roll, and I stop fighting, my pussy aching for his touch again as I relax in his arms, moving my hips to rock against his cock. I like that he didn’t stop when I pushed at him; he only sucked my skin harder and gripped me more painfully, and it… excited me.

Sick, sick, sick.

My phone rings, and he pulls back, breathless.

“You don’t need any more lessons on kissing,” I say, panting, feeling him pressed into me. “Or how to suck on a nipple. Put me down.”

Begrudgingly, he does, and I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth while steadying myself.

Teach me more.

I roll my eyes and open my car door. “Fine. But stop being a dickhead to me.”

I sneak out of my window, two hours before Parker’s due to pick me up, wearing a little dress that doesn’t need a bra underneath. It’s raining, so the ledge to his balcony is slippery.

---