Malik and Jade

Chapter 30 (Jade): I Was Missing Something

I'd left the door to the bathroom open as I stood in front of the mirror trying to decide where to start removing the approximately one thousand pins out of my updo. I don't know how the stylist managed to get them in so tightly, but it was never easy getting them out. She always told me I had so much thick, heavy hair that getting my curls to stay in place took more pins than normal. 

In the mirror, I saw Malik walk up behind me, gently moving my hands away from my hair. He was still dressed in his tux, his bow tie undone and hanging loose around his neck, two buttons of his pristine white shirt undone. Our eyes met in the mirror, and his face was serious, his eyes intent, then his eyes shifted to my hair and his long, capable fingers found the first bobby pin and he carefully tugged it out, using the fingers of both hands to make sure he didn't pull my hair. He placed the pin on the counter, his eyes coming to mine in the mirror briefly before he turned his attention back to my hair and repeated the process. 

I didn't take my eyes off him, didn't glance down at the floor to avoid watching his gentle ministrations. Instead, I kept my eyes on him. Malik didn't say a word the entire time, and ten minutes later he gently ran his fingers through my hair over and over to sift out the tangles and to make sure he hadn't missed any pins.

I liked putting my hands in your hair and letting it fall through my fingers.

"Give me your brush, Jade."

His deep voice wasn't much above a whisper, as if he was afraid of startling me into pushing him away, but that wasn't how I intended this night to end so he was in no danger of that.

Opening the vanity drawer, I pulled out my brush and handed it to him over my shoulder, our eyes still connected in the mirror. Wordlessly, he began to brush the ends, slowly moving up the sections as he detangled my hair, and I watched him concentrate on the task, his face focused. He didn't hurry, as if there was nothing else he'd rather be doing than playing lady's maid to me, to borrow a phrase from one of my historical romances.

Eventually, satisfied that not one tangle had survived his search and destroy mission, he put the brush on the counter next to the pins and swept my hair to one side, baring my neck. He trailed the backs of his fingers down my neck, and when I didn't protest, Malik pressed a soft kiss to my neck. Once again, his eyes met mine in the mirror, as if to gauge my response, silently asking a question: 

Did I go too far?

How should I answer his unspoken thought? Out loud, and risk popping this bubble that had surrounded us? Malik was so careful around me, never pushing, but I knew when we'd been dancing together earlier that he hadn't missed the look in my eyes, and I certainly hadn't missed the look in his, nor had I missed the way he'd pressed me closer to him the entire time we'd been dancing. He was definitely expressing horizontal ideas to me.

Did I go too far?

In answer, I silently tilted my head to one side, giving him easier access to my neck and he understood immediately, his teeth, lips and tongue moving over the sensitive skin I'd just given him permission to explore further. My arm snaked up and around his neck, and his fingers glided down the underside of my arm, making me shiver.

I liked running my fingers lightly down your arm and feeling you shiver against me.

I turned off my mind and just focused on the sensations he evoked, the pure pleasure his mouth alone was bringing me, the sighs he was pulling from me. I pushed back against him, and his hand pressed against my belly, holding me in place while he let me know he was right there with me. Since he'd taken me onto the dance floor, the entire evening had been leading to this.

More, Malik.

As if he'd turned into a mind reader, his fingers went to the zipper of my dress and he slowly, slowly pulled it down, his way of giving me time to stop him, to protest, to call a halt to this. Malik's hands went to the straps that sat on my upper arms and he pushed them down after he kissed each shoulder, the silky material slipping down my skin, Malik's hands following them as the whole dress fell until there was just a silky red pool at my feet.

He looked at me not directly, but in the mirror, both of us watching as the backs of his fingers slid down my arms, danced over my belly, then up to my breasts. At that, he spun me to face him, his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair. Malik lifted his head, then took my hand and led me into our bedroom. Standing in front of me, he shrugged out of his tux jacket and waited for me to decide what to do.

No mirror between us now, I lifted my eyes to his for a moment before my hands moved to the onyx studs on his shirt, undoing those tiny barriers between Malik's chest and me. I lifted his hands so I could undo his French cuffs, removing the cufflinks I'd given him for the first formal event I'd ever attended with him as his wife.

He'd laughed when he opened the silver cufflinks engraved with a J.

"A J?" he'd asked.

Rolling my eyes at him, I'd pointed at his cuffs. "Just put them on."

"I'll consider myself branded," he said. But he put them on right away.

Shaking off the memory, I slid my hands up his warm, smooth chest, pushing his shirt off of him. I quickly removed his watch and laid it on his nightstand. He stripped out of his remaining clothes, and without being asked, he turned off the lights, clearly remembering what I'd told him before. He didn't say a word, either, but it felt like he was saying a lot with only his hands and his mouth and his tongue that was tracing patterns all over my body. He was melting my body with that hot, wet mouth. Everywhere.

Don't think, just enjoy. It's OK to enjoy this. We can enjoy this. This was part of the deal.

And we did thoroughly enjoy ourselves, but...it didn't feel like part of a deal. 

Jade! You need to be stronger than this, to not be fooled again. 

Malik had always been a generous lover, taking his time with me, ensuring my pleasure. The care he took with me was part of the reason I'd thought he'd loved me, only to be proven very, very wrong. 

But tonight had felt different, and that had scared me.

Maybe because I'd cut off his words, he was compensating for that with more physical intensity, but never had I felt him trying so hard to communicate with me. To tell me something important despite my gag order.

Malik had made no secret that he enjoyed my body before, but tonight he was positively worshipping me, and he wasn't saying anything, but he was making deep, satisfied sounds in his throat when he called out responses from me. Every sigh, every gasp, every moan from my lips he praised and rewarded. Without one word.

He was a man on a mission, but I didn't know what that mission was. As far as I knew, he had everything he wanted.

********************

When I woke up in the middle of the night, I wanted a drink of water, but when I went to get up, something holding my hair pulled me back, and I realized that Malik's hand was wrapped up in my hair. That definitely had happened after I'd fallen asleep. 

The last I remembered, I'd come out of the bathroom having gone in there to clean up following our friendly time. Malik had already been on his back in bed, probably having gone to the other bathroom down the hall to clean himself up and dispose of the condom. I'd curled onto my side, my back to Malik, and fallen asleep thinking I should have braided my hair. Since I was too sleepy to bother at that point, I'd just drifted off. 

Now, I reached behind me to free my hair from Malik's hand, but he was already awake and disentangling it for me.

"Sorry," he said, his voice husky. "You usually braid it."

"Too tired tonight," I said, wondering what that observation had to do with anything. As far as I knew, Malik always stayed on his side of the bed so whether my hair was braided or not wouldn't matter.

I'd braided my hair while I was getting my water, and when I came back to bed, Malik was still awake.

"Thank you for braiding it," he said sleepily as I got into bed.

I had a feeling I was missing something. Maybe several somethings.

That feeling would remain for weeks.