Page 176 of The Wright Man

His mouth was everywhere. His hands were reverent, rough, possessive. He kissed me like he was starving for me. Like he hadn't eaten in years and I'd just walked in the room holding a whole feast.

"You look so good like this," he murmured against my skin as his lips traced the curve of my neck, then lower. "So sexy. So fucking perfect."

The torture started with my breasts.

I'd been touched there before. But never like this. Never like I mattered.

His hands were so big, so warm—so fucking intentional—as they cupped and massaged me with slow, reverent precision. He wasn't groping or grabbing. He wasn't trying to get to the next part. He was present. Worshipful. Like he'd been given access to a holy site and didn't want to waste a single second.

Gavin used to touch me like I was his property. Like my body was owed to him. First a prize. Then an obligation. Eventually, a burden he couldn't be bothered to bear.

Maleek touched me like I was a temple. A gift. A miracle.

He didn't rush. Just palmed me gently, his thumbs grazing soft circles around my nipples until they peaked under his touch. His eyes stayed locked on mine, intense and dark and focused, like he was reading me. Learning me. Memorizing every shiver, every sound, every way I started to fall apart beneath his hands.

"You're so sensitive for me..." he murmured as if it was taking him by surprise, dipping his head.

I barely had time to answer before his mouth closed around one nipple and I cried out, back arching into him like he'd pulled a string inside me.

He hummed against my skin, low and satisfied, flicking his tongue as he rolled the other peak between his fingers. I whimpered, thighs clenching around nothing.

"Mmm," he growled, pulling back just enough to whisper against my breast. "You deserve to be touched like this. Loved like this. Wanted this much."

I moaned helplessly, trying to ground myself, but it was useless. When he switched sides and started lavishing the other nipple with hot, wet attention—licking, sucking, dragging his teeth across it just enough to make me squirm—my legs began to shake.

"God, Maleek," I gasped.

He just smiled into my skin, then tightened his grip on my waist when I arched again.

"Relax. I got you," he breathed, soothing and firm all at once. "Lemme take care of you."

I didn't expect the first orgasm.

Didn't think it was possible, not from this. Not from just the feeling of his mouth on my nipples.

I never thought my breasts were particularly sensitive, never felt much beyond a dull spark. But this wasn't Gavin. This wasn't clumsy fumbling or rushed obligation. This was Maleek, and Maleek was studying me. Worshiping me. Rewiring my entire fucking nervous system.

He made my pleasure his mission. Like nothing else mattered.

He moaned again, long and low, and the vibration against my nipple lit a fire so deep in my core I nearly sobbed. I felt the heat curling in my belly, rising fast.

"Leek, I'm... I-I'm gonna—"

It hit me like a storm.

My back arched off the bed, my hands flew to his shoulders, and I cried out as the orgasm ripped through me, deep and sudden and soul-shaking.

"That's it," he murmured, kissing a trail up my body, back to my mouth. "Yes... Mmm. There's my girl."

He kissed me like he meant it. Like he earned it. All smug and proud and so goddamn beautiful I couldn't breathe.

"I—um..." I blinked up at him, dazed. "I've never come from... from that before."

He gave me a slow smirk. "That's 'cause you never had it from me."

I rolled my eyes, about to hit him with something smart, but then his hand slipped between my thighs and pressed against my panties, and the words evaporated.

"Shit," I gasped, hips bucking up into his palm.