𝐌𝐢 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐚

𝟏𝟏

I've never let a man have the power to slam me into a wall. Never let them have the power to touch me without my permission. But, that's exactly what Malik does once we enter my house. I grip my keys tightly in my hand, my breathing labored as Malik presses his body flush against mine.

"Take it off," he mumbles, his focus zoned in on my shirt that separates our upper bodies from touching.

"Take what off?" I ask, my own hands moving to grip the end of his shirt.

Malik doesn't answer me, and instead closes my front door fully before he's back in front of me. Personal space hasn't been a thing for us since we discovered one another. The closeness- a feeling that always has to be saturated when we're together. Why be apart when I can have him so dauntingly close to me?

"Everything," Malik pleads, regaining my attention, "take it off."

My eyes bore into his at his tone, but his gaze doesn't waver. His hands find themselves at my waist, slowly sliding up my blouse- his fingers cooling my skin. His fingertips meet the end of my bra, but he makes no move to take it off. I feel as he travels his hands back down to my waist, a shiver almost running down my spine.

I drop my keys at my feet before letting both of my hands take Malik's. He makes no protest, letting me guide him because he lives to please. With me, he gives up so much control and I revel in the fact. I guide his hands back up to the edge of my bra, and smile teasingly when his fingers hook onto it.

"Take it off for me," I demand, hands still on his. I haven't looked away from him once, wanting to see his every reaction. Every expression.

Malik doesn't waste a second. He guides my shirt up as if it were on fire, and I lift my arms so he can easily slide it off. My shirt falls to the floor with no regards- Malik's hands smoothing down to the start of my pants. He does nothing else, so I take his hands again before guiding them to a single button that kept my pants together. I don't look to see if he's unbuttoning them. I just watch as he licks his lips in anticipation. I catch the way his eyes flutter closed for a millisecond when I guide his hands where I want them. I watch as he slowly becomes undone before me, his patience worn thin.

He's nothing short of persistent, but he knows that I can play the long game. When he begs for me, I tease him because then he begs more. He lets me know that I'm in control. Tonight, just like other nights, I own him. He might've pleased me so good earlier that the gods heard how good I felt, but even then I was in control. Malik shows me who he belongs to, and I drill it into him that it's mutual. My body, my pleasure, my touch. It all belongs to him. The day he decides to take control of me on his own is the day I'll leak like a faucet that can't be fixed.

I feel a hand travel slowly between my legs, and realize that my pants are pooled at my ankles. I catch Malik's eyes and see that his control is slipping away by every second that passes. I know what he wants. Hell, I want it too but I'm denying the both of us that pleasure. And for simple reasons. I want it to last. I want to ride out our pleasure until the clock strikes twelve and we've fucked until morning.