Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Always.” He kissed my mouth before pulling away to run a hand down the sheer fabric. “Can I help you put it on? Or do you want your shower?”
“Hmm. Decisions.” I pretended to deliberate, but the novelty of him dressing me up appealed to some previously unexplored kink of mine. “I’m way too impatient for the super-thorough shower thing. Fucking can wait. Love the idea of you putting my present on me. And then I want to blow you.”
He hissed in a breath. “You have good ideas too.”
“I do.” I preened and did a little spin. “Have at me.”
Malik started with my shirt buttons, but unlike his efficient help that morning, he took his time, with lots of touches, little neck kisses, nipple tweaks, belly rubs, and collarbone licks until I wanted to melt into the thick carpet. Once my shirt was carefully placed over a chair in the corner, he motioned at my prosthesis.
“I’ll leave your bionic best friend to your expertise.”
“Fine, make me work.” I laughed as I made easy work of my arm and added it to the chair. Malik took over again, rubbing my right shoulder and arm, paying particular attention to the places where the prosthesis sleeve always left marks.
“Pants next.” He undid my belt first, sliding it free, eyes sparkling. “Thanks to you, I keep looking at belts and wooden spoons and getting hard.”
“Or your cane.” I winked at him.
“I like you all in one piece.” Chuckling, he lightly popped me on the ass with the belt.
“Ha. If that’s the best you’ve got, the cane wouldn’t even leave a mark.” I didn’t truly want a cane beating, but I was perfectly fine with goading my way to another lick from the belt.
“Don’t make me decide your ass should match your new nightie.” He obliged me with a harder smack from the belt, this one sharp and stinging, a different pain from his palm, less personal but intriguing and arousing nonetheless.
“Pink is my favorite color, after all.” I stuck my tongue out at him, only to find myself caught in a blistering kiss. “What?”
“Every time you let the real Avery, your authentic self, out to play, you’re so fucking sexy. You make me want to give you all the pink lingerie in Delectable’s catalog.”
Unzipping me next, he sent my pants fluttering to the floor. “Step.”
“Mmm.” I groaned low as he groped my ass through my plain black briefs, knowing exactly where to press to intensify the lingering burn from the belt. Then he shoved them down, too, hands skimming my thighs.
“You’re so hot, exactly like this.” He turned me slightly so I could see myself in the mirror next to the chair. And with him right behind me, I’d never felt sexier nude. There was something unspeakably hot about him still wearing dress clothes while I was naked. Wriggling backward to rub up against him, I made a happy noise as he continued to run his hands all over me. “You don’t need lingerie to drive me wild, but I love that you let me get it for you.”
“Hey, I love presents. I’m sure I should be more modest, but I love that we can share this too.” I shivered slightly as he moved away for a second. The nightie had come with little matching sheer panties, and he had me step into them next. Then he reached back to the bed where he’d set the nightie, and slowly, with a seriousness that made my breath catch, lowered it over my head. There in the mirror was a pinup star, something straight out of porn, or more accurately, my own feverish fantasies. And Malik had given me this. The moment, but also this self, as he’d said, the real Avery. “Thank you. I love this. Love you.”
Inhaling sharply, Malik stopped mid-fluff of my nightie. “Ah. Um. Glad you love the present.”
“I love you, Malik.” After all the buildup in my brain, the words came surprisingly easily. I’d felt he’d wanted to say the words since the fire but was waiting on me because he didn’t want to spook me. And sure enough, as soon as I said it, our eyes met in the mirror, his shining, full of pleasure and emotion. I laughed lightly because if he teared up, I would lose it too. “I mean, this is an amazing study in lace and silk and hot as fuck, but you…I love you.”
“I love you too,” he whispered and kissed my neck. “So much. I want to treat you so well.”
“You already do. You make me feel…special. Treasured. Loved.” That was it. That was what I had felt, even in Colorado. It wasn’t only my courage that had grown, but rather love. I was loved, and I loved, which gave me the courage to see my own truths.