Touch

CHAPTER 10| Fire

A/N: Warning. Mature scenes ahead.

I was in too much of a haze to realize what was happening; one minute I was with Michael and the next I was with Malachai, when had he arrived?

I was just about ready to leave with Michael, and before I knew it, Malachai's hands were all over me, and I was hot, weeping, trembling, and moaning for him.

We almost went there in the middle of the club and I wasn't going to stop him. I didn't even try to feign indifference, which is quite frankly what he deserved after he left me hanging a week ago.

My sex-crazed induced fog was gone from my mind the moment the frigid winter wind hit me. It was then that I realized that we were headed to his car.

Were we going to his place?

The sheer force of my heartbeat against my ribcage had me thinking my ribs would combust.

"Amina," I heard someone far off in the distance say, but I was too far gone with my thoughts to pay attention; was this really happening, Malachai and me?

"Amina," he grabbed my face, searching my eyes with concern as though they would provide him the answers he needed, "Are you ok, can you hear me?"

"Y-Yes, I'm sorry, what?" I stuttered, Oh God, he probably thinks I'm a fool, way to go, Amina!

He pulled me over to the car, opening the door for me to get in, I complied and he followed after me. As he took the seat across from me he asked, "I said, what's your address?"

"Oh. 15 Syre Lane," I said to which he nodded, with a slight tilt of his head towards his chauffeur he said, "You got that, Jeff?" His eyes never leaving mine.

His driver simply grunted in reply. Never relenting, his eyes remained fixed on me as he reached over to press a button, and I watched as the partition went up.

His eyes were still on me.

It was like the world fell out of existence in the back of the moving SUV, and all I was aware of was me, myself, and Malachai.

Despite the revealing dress, and my lack of jacket in the dead of winter (thanks to our abrupt departure), it was getting hot again.

Still, we sat there in silence; as the traffic lights sporadically caught his reflection, I noticed his eyes grow increasingly darker. Was that hunger?

I wanted to avert my gaze, but I couldn't. I was locked in and there was no place I'd rather be.  This was happening; after two long years, I was going to get laid–no, from the look in his eyes, I was going to get fucked.

I was nervous, intimidated even–this man, this God of a man, Malachai Rendell (God, even his name was majestic), was promising me something sinister, something earth-shattering with just one look, and it was enough to make knees buckle in my seat.

It had been so long, could I please him? Could I meet up to the challenge that was in his eyes?  No, no Amina, positive affirmations–I had to reassure myself– you will please him, in fact, you're going to ride this man into oblivion, you're going to suck the soul right out of his di–

His heavy breathing interrupted my thoughts, bringing my attention to the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Traveling further north, I found his eyes were still fixated on me. As if on cue, the thoughts flew out of my mind.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to steady my breathing. I can do this, you can please him, you can handle Malachai Rendell.

Suddenly, too sudden for my eyes to see, he was hovering over me, hand wrapped around my throat, how the fuck?