Touch

CHAPTER 11| Bound

It was the oddest sensation feeling him behind me as we ascended the stairs to my apartment.
His broad shoulders, tall frame, and taut muscles made me feel small and engulfed.

I genuinely felt like I was prey being stalked by a predator but in a way that tightened the muscles in my lower abdomen with excitement.

Did he mean to finish what he started? Was he coming in? Or was he going to leave me high and dry like last time?

Anger like no other hit me hard and fast. I had to remind myself, don't blow up, give him time, see what he does. If he left, I was going right back to that club, I thought to myself as I reached my door.

Like I said, the best way to get over somebody...

I punched the code in and the door unlocked, but before I could open the door, a firm hand came down on my ass with a smack and I yelped.

"You're not going anywhere but inside that apartment," he said as he gently massaged the sting on my ass, and I bit my tongue to suppress a moan.

Had I voiced my thoughts aloud?

He chuckled, oh that damn chuckle, "You will sing for me, Amina. One way or another this entire complex will hear you tonight," he said in my ear.

I closed my eyes as hard as I could, trying and failing to give all of my focus to suppressing yet another moan threatening to spill forth from my lips.

His hands began the painfully slow ascent to my breasts, caressing, squeezing, and teasing along the way.

When his hands had finally reached their target, his large calloused hands groped, and tugged, and twisted in tandem with his lips that ravaged the sensitive spot on my neck.

Not even the measly door handle could provide me with the stability I needed, my knees buckled under his assault, wrapping me in his embrace before I could meet the floor.

The feel of his front against my back, and his heat surrounding me only exacerbated the sensations. It was like waves of electricity flowed through me, settling in my core. Warmth spread in my belly, causing me to clench over and over again on nothing.

He was right, I sang, "Malachai, please," I cried out, it was all I could say before he captured my lips in his, silencing my moans. He reached for the door and we stumbled into the apartment, never breaking contact.

"Wait, wait my shoes, let me just-"

"No," Malachai interrupted, "The heels stay on," he said with finality in his voice. I nodded, the heels were staying on.

By the time we made it to the room, my dress was gone, how? I honestly had no clue. What was more frustrating was that I was the only one undressed.

In the heat of the moment, I didn't care, but now, standing here as Malachai took in every inch and crevice, my insecurities started creeping in again.

What was he thinking?

Was there something he didn't like?

Were my hips too wide, my breasts too small?

Funny thing about alcohol, the absence of inhibitions doesn't last long enough if you don't drink enough.

I wasn't imagining things though, this hot and cold thing Malachai keeps doing is insanely hot, but beyond frustrating. He creates this need that makes me desperate, and I can't even hide it.

It's embarrassing.

Still, he stares. What is he so focused on? Because I know what I'm focused on, I want sex and I want it now.