I couldn't deny it any longer; the tension was unbearable. I knew it, and he knew it.
The pull between us was undeniable, magnetic.
His hands were like fire, igniting something deep inside me. He moved slowly down my neck, planting soft, teasing kisses that made my breath hitch.
But when his lips found that sensitive spot, I tilted my head back, offering him all the space he needed. He sucked, hard and relentless, his grip tightening. The pleasure surged, pulsing through my veins like liquid heat.
It was so intense, I could feel the mark forming already, a bruise that would last.
I gasped, my body trembling with need. I couldn't think straight as his hands moved lower, unzipping my jeans.
Just as he was about to pull me into the abyss, my phone rang. I froze. The caller ID flashed on the screen—my mother.
"Fuck," he cursed, pulling away as if the universe itself had conspired to interrupt us.
I could feel the ache between us, a desperate hunger that hadn't been sated. He smiled, resigned, his lips brushing my cheek in a fleeting kiss before we both stood up, the heat still lingering between us.
He helped me pack my things, his touch lingering on my skin, before he saw me off with that familiar, knowing grin.
As I stepped inside my house, the silence hit me first. No one was in the living room, and as I moved toward the kitchen, I heard voices—a familiar, comforting sound.
"Maliya!" I called, a smile spreading across my face as I stepped into the room. Her arms wrapped around me, and for a moment, everything else faded. "I've missed you," I whispered, the weight of everything pressing on my chest.
"Hey, Mom," I said softly, the words laced with affection. She looked at me with a warmth that had always been my anchor. "We missed you so much," she murmured, planting a kiss on my cheek.
I felt my stomach growl, and without thinking, I asked, "So, what's for lunch? Because I'm starving." I couldn't help myself. I was always hungry.
"You see, I told you," Maliya teased, her voice light, but there was a knowing in her eyes. I laughed, the sound dark and genuine. She was right. I could never get enough.
Maliya had become more than family; she was a part of me. Her parents gone, she'd come to live with us when we were young. Our tragedies intertwined, making us inseparable. I'd always seen her as the sister I never had, even though she was only a year younger.
My mom had taken her in when there was nowhere else for her to go. I owed her everything for that.
We moved through the kitchen, preparing what little we had left.
The air was thick with the scent of cooking food and the warmth of shared memories.
When we sat down to eat, the laughter flowed. Maliya's jokes were a balm, easing the tension that had followed me through the day.
At that moment, as we sat there, I knew. There was no place I'd rather be than home. Safe. Alive. Even if the shadows outside still lingered, this was my sanctuary.