Chapter 55

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*CONTENT WARNING* This chapter will contain detailed descriptions of sexual activity. If you would rather not read that, then please skip from the first bolded line to the second – this will cut out the sauciest parts of the chapter while keeping the plot intact.


As River and Tom drove away toward his house, Malcolm and I watched from the safety of the front porch.

When they disappeared into the pouring rain, I turned to Malcolm, "So, dinner?"

He looked over at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "Sophie, River's out at Tom's; we have all night and the entire house to ourselves; Is dinner really your priority right now?"

He pulled me in, and with a lungful of his delicious scent, I murmured, "I guess food could wait."

Malcolm smirked, "Good answer."

Then he had me over his shoulder, carrying me through the front door.

"Malcolm!" I cried, laughter and disbelief mingling in my tone.

Shutting it behind us, he answered, "Yes, Dear?"

The endearment thrilled through me, and I fought to hold onto my indignation, "You're really going into caveman mode right now?"

He laughed, "If you don't like it, you're welcome to tell me to stop."

To illustrate his point, he paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet my gaze.

I narrowed my eyes but said nothing.

"Thought so." Landing a quick swat on my backside, he continued carrying me toward my bedroom.

I yelped at the impact of his hand against my ass, a sudden burst of pleasure rushing through me.

"Again, if you don't like it-"

Grumbling, I cut him off, "You know damned well that I like it, Malcolm, so shut up and do it again."

"Patience."

Crossing the threshold, Malcolm nudged the door shut with his foot and laid me down on the bed.

I landed against the pillows with a muted, "thump," heat within me rising as Malcolm reached for the waist of my lounge pants. He pulled them down, and I lifted my hips, the tempo of my heart picking up as the soft fabric slid over my skin, leaving me bare to his gaze.

Reaching up, I dragged my shirt up over my torso tugging it over my head and tossing it aside.

Malcolm stood, eyes burning as he looked over me.

I smirked, warmed by his attention like a cat in a sunbeam, "Well, thoughts?"

He chuckled as he dispensed of his own shirt, "Thoughts?"

Watching as he reached for the buckle of his belt, I teased, "You know, they're like words? In your head?"

Malcolm's eyes darkened, "I'm thinking that if you want me to spank you, you're facing the wrong way."

I almost believed I had misheard him, but the authority in his stare left no room for doubt.

"Oh?"

Amusement softened his features, and he wordlessly gestured, directing me to turn over.

Imagination aflame, I obeyed, shifting onto my front, and glancing behind me.

The fire in his stare seared me to my soul.

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