My Sinful Valentine (A Beautiful Sinners Collection) by Elena Reyes (black authors fiction .txt) 📕

He’s watching me as if I were the most precious thing in his world. What he wishes to corrupt.

Too late. I’m already lost to his darkness.

“Do we have an agreement?” His nod is my answer. The way he licks his lips seals our deal. “Good boy.”

Those beautiful eyes flash with anger, but beneath the hard look, there’s amusement. “You’ll pay for that remark later.”

“Please.” Releasing my hair, I cup my breasts with both hands and squeeze the two, pulling on each delicate tip. “I want everything with you.”

“Ask your question.” Malcolm undoes his cuff links and drops both solid gold pieces to the floor, followed by the dress shirt. Buttons scatter at his impatient move to rip it off in haste. My eyes wander his face and lower, following the path down his lips and throat to the newest tattoo that marks the day we got married.

“Did you kill them?” I hear myself ask, even though my attention is on his chest. On the mark right over his heart. It was his present to me. The one that means the most: a beautiful replica of our wedding rings and the date and time I said I do.

“Yes.” Malcolm’s chest rumbles with a groan and I whimper, running my hands down my stomach and up again. With every inch of his perfection I take in, I caress lower and then start at my heaving chest again. I’m torturing us. Dragging out the inevitable.

In my mind, it’s his hands touching me.

It’s his body heat that burns me, and when I reach my barely covered mound, I pause as a moan rips from my throat. It’s needy and hungry and holds the same desperation as his eyes.

The lace is soaked in me, my flesh sensitive. I feel hot and weak and on my second pass over my cloth-covered clit, I feel him.

Right in front of me.

Just below the stage and close to where I need him the most.

His breathing is harsh, and so is the slap to my thigh a second before his fingers dig in and bring me a hair’s breadth from his mouth. “And I have no qualms about ending the life of anyone that tries to hurt you, Twirl. You’re mine to love. Mine to protect.” Malcolm’s mouth growls this against my clit, the vibration causing me to shiver and for my eyes to close and body to tremble in need. “You’re mine to fuck, London. I own you.”

“As I own you,” I whisper, but he hears, grunting in approval as the bottom half of my bodysuit is torn off. The fabric stings as it’s pulled from my body, but that quickly turns into pleasure as his mouth returns to his altar. “Oh, God. Baby, I—”

“Just feel me. Give in to the pleasure only I can give.” His tongue slides across my sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping lower, lapping at my wetness. He’s holding me tight, fingers digging into my hips while devouring—eating me as a starved man would a piece of cake.

Malcolm is relentless, sucking my clit between his lips once, twice, and only letting me go to nip at the skin. It’s pleasurable pain. It’s electricity and at the same time it grounds me as my hips chase his tongue.

I hold no shame with him. I love him with the same animalistic urgency and hold on to his hair while riding his tongue.

With just a few swipes, I’m close. Not yet.

“Fuck, Twirl,” he grunts, the hand that was on my right hip now grips my asscheek roughly. Almost painfully. He kneads the flesh, jiggling it before slipping between my thighs from behind, passing right over the crack—from my back entrance to slit and back up again once his fingers are soaked. “Give me what’s mine. Feed me.”

Malcolm doesn’t enter me; he slowly swipes across each entrance, dipping the tip of a finger before continuing his trek to the other. My eyes close. My walls clench.

“Malcolm, we need to—”

“Come for me.” At his rough command, my thighs shake and I throb, physically pulse for him, but before I come, I roughly pull myself away.

“Not yet.”

“Twirl.” The way my nickname comes from him is sinful. A wicked caress of my senses, but I take another step back before he can reach for me. “Come here.”

“Go sit.” His heavy-lidded eyes watch me for a second, his tongue licking my wetness from his bottom lip—a quick swipe he savors. The action alone causes my thighs to clench once more. “Sit, and hands atop the armrest. Keep them there, or I’ll stop again.”

“As you wish.” Malcolm follows my instruction, sitting atop his throne with his legs partially spread and chest on display. He’s strong and beautiful. I’m a lucky woman. “Now, your terms.”

I clear my throat and meet his eyes, taking in the amusement in them. He’s cocky, and I’m not ashamed of what I feel for him. How attractive I find him. “Conduct all business outside the US and nothing can be traced back to Chicago. I don’t want anything touching us here. Not so much as a friendly visit.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

He’s silent for a beat. Thinking. Planning.

“Agreed.” Malcolm knows me well enough that when I ask for something, there’s a reason behind it. He also doesn’t ask why. He trusts me.

“Thank you.” On my end, I feel relief, so much so that I lower myself onto the stage and crawl down to him over the rose petals.

This is his reward and the first part of my present. I’m going to give him the little fantasy he let slip a few months back.

Sure, we’ve had sex in every room of our house and in every car. We’ve devoured each other in exotic destinations and in his office.

He’s watched me dance in this