The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 73 - seventy Three

Chapter Seventy-Three

Alicia’s POV

The hotel room was beautiful. All soft lighting and expensive furniture and windows that looked out over the city. I kicked off my bare feet and spun around, taking it all in.

"This is amazing," I said, my words slightly slurred. The champagne was still making everything feel soft and dreamy.

Malachi closed the door behind us. He was watching me with that intense look he always had. Like I was something precious he was afraid might disappear.

"You should get some rest," he said.

"Rest? No way." I walked over to the minibar and opened it. Rows of tiny bottles winked at me in the light. "We should drink more."

"Alicia, you’ve had enough."

"Have not." I pulled out two small bottles of vodka. "Come on. Let’s play a game."

"A game."

"Truth or dare." I flopped onto the couch, patting the spot next to me. "Sit. Play with me."

"You’re drunk."

"So? That makes it more fun." I opened one of the bottles and took a sip. It burned going down but I didn’t care. "Are you scared? Big bad Malachi scared of a little game?"

His jaw tightened. I could see him debating. Probably thinking about all the reasons this was a bad idea.

But then he sat down next to me. Close enough that our thighs touched.

"Fine. One game. Then you sleep."

"Deal!" I handed him the other bottle. "You go first. Truth or dare?"

He took the bottle but didn’t drink from it yet. Just held it, watching me with those dark eyes.

"Truth."

I thought for a moment, the alcohol making my thoughts fuzzy but also brave. "Okay. Truth. When did you first know you wanted me?"

The question hung between us.

His eyes never left mine. "The moment I saw you in my bed the night I arrived. And I thought, she’s mine."

My breath caught. The intensity in his voice made my heart race.

"Your turn," he said.

"Truth or dare?"

I bit my lip. "Dare."

A slow smile spread across his face. Dark.

"I dare you to tell me what you really want right now. No lies. No pretending."

That wasn’t fair. That was basically a truth question disguised as a dare.

But I was drunk enough to be honest. Drunk enough to say what sober me would never admit.

"I want you," I whispered. "I want to forget everything else exists. Just for tonight."

I sat there, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Malachi leaned against the edge of the bed, his dark eyes locked on me. He looked dangerous and beautiful, like something I should run from but could not.

I bit my lip without thinking. The small pain made me shiver.

He smiled slow, like a wolf who already knew he won. "Come here, Alicia," he said, voice low and rough. "Crawl to me."

My breath caught. The room spun a little from all the wine we drank. I should have laughed or said no. Instead my knees went weak. I sank down to the carpet, hands first, then knees. The soft rug felt warm under my palms. I crawled. One slow move after another. My dress rode up my thighs. I felt the air on my skin and knew he could see my black lace panties. My face burned, but I kept going until I reached his feet.

He bent down and cupped my chin, tilting my face up. His thumb brushed my wet lip. Then he pulled me higher and kissed me. Soft at first, just lips. Then deeper, his tongue sliding in, tasting the wine on me. He kissed down my jaw, my neck, teeth scraping just enough to make me gasp. His hands stayed in my hair, holding me where he wanted.

When he pulled back, his eyes were darker. "Whine for me," he whispered against my ear.

I shook my head, cheeks hot. "I can’t."

He chuckled, low and mean. "Yes you can. I heard you teach Cassie last week. You told her exactly how to do it. How to sound needy and desperate. Remember?"

My stomach flipped. He knew about that? How? I couldn’t place it. Cassie and I had whined and made dumb noises that day.

I opened my mouth to lie, but he kissed me again, hard, swallowing any words. His hands slid down my sides, fingers hooking under the hem of my dress.

"Stand up," he said.

I did, legs shaky. He turned me around and pulled the zipper slow. The fabric slipped off my shoulders, down my body, pooling at my feet. I stood in just my bra and panties, goosebumps everywhere. He traced one finger from my neck to the clasp of my bra, then stopped.

"Whine," he said again. "Dirty this time. Like you mean it."

I closed my eyes. The room felt too warm. I pressed my thighs together and let out a small, shaky sound. It came out soft and needy.

"Louder," he ordered. "And say my name."

I swallowed. Then I did it. A long, filthy whine, high and desperate. "Malachi... please..."

He groaned, hands tight on my hips. "Again."

I whined louder, rocking forward without meaning to. My body wanted more. I kept going, words tumbling out between whines. "Please touch me... I’m so wet for you... I need it..."

He pulled me against him. I could feel how hard he was through his jeans. I rubbed myself on him like an animal, hips rolling slow. My panties were soaked already. Every grind made me whimper more. He let me do it, hands guiding my ass, but he never gave me what I really wanted.

I reached for his belt. He caught my wrists.

"Not yet," he said. "Keep whining. Keep begging."

So I did. I whined and begged and ground against him until my thighs shook. Until I felt his cock throb under the denim and my own wetness drip down my leg.

Finally he lifted me and laid me on the bed. He stripped fast, shirt gone, jeans gone. His body was all hard lines and shadows. He crawled over me, pushing my legs apart with his knees.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Soaked and shaking."

He rubbed the head of his cock against me, just once, slow, over my panties. I arched up, crying out.

He smirked. "Want it?"

"Yes," I gasped. "Please, Malachi, please."

He peeled my panties down my legs, tossing them away. Then he settled between my thighs again, rubbing himself along my slit, up and down, never inside. I tried to lift my hips, chase him, but he pinned me down.

"Stay still," he said. "Or I stop."

I whimpered, nodding fast.

He teased me forever. Sliding over my clit, pressing just the tip in, then pulling out. Over and over until I was sobbing, begging, tears on my cheeks. My whole body felt like fire.

"Please," I cried. "I can’t take it. Fuck me, please."

Only then did he push in. Slow. So slow I felt every inch stretch me open. I was dripping, but he still made me feel it all. When he was fully inside he stopped, letting me clench around him.

"Good girl," he whispered.

Then he started to move. Long, deep strokes that made my toes curl. He kept it slow, torturing me. Every time I got close he slowed even more, or pulled almost all the way out, making me whine again.

I wrapped my legs around him, nails digging into his back. "Faster," I begged.

He laughed softly and bit my neck. "No."

I let out a broken sound. My pussy fluttered around his cock, trying to pull him deeper, but he would not move. He just stayed buried to the hilt and watched me fall apart.

"Please," I whispered. My voice cracked. "Malachi, I’m so close."

"I know." He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb, then licked it off. "That’s why I’m stopping."

He pulled out slowly, so slowly I felt every ridge drag against my walls. When only the head stayed inside, he held it there. My hips jerked up, chasing him, but he pressed one palm flat on my stomach and held me down.

"Stay," he said.

I sobbed. My clit throbbed, swollen and aching. I could feel my own wetness smeared everywhere, on my thighs, on the sheets, on him.

He leaned down and kissed me, soft and sweet, nothing like the cruel way he was teasing my body. His tongue stroked mine while his cock stayed just barely inside me, not moving. I tried to rock against him. He bit my bottom lip in warning.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. I lost track. All I knew was the thick stretch at my entrance and the empty ache deeper inside. I kept whining, soft and filthy, saying his name over and over like a prayer.

He finally slid back in, one long, slow push until he bottomed out. I cried out in relief. Then he pulled out again. In. Out. So slow I could count every heartbeat around him. My whole body shook.

"Look at me," he said.

I opened my eyes. His face was right above mine, dark hair falling forward, eyes burning.

"Tell me how it feels."

"It hurts," I gasped. "It feels so good it hurts. I need more. I need you to ruin me."

He smiled, small and wicked. "Not yet."

He kept that torture going. Deep, slow strokes that never quite gave me enough friction. Every time I got close, my breath hitching, thighs trembling, he slowed even more or stopped completely. He kissed my tears, licked my neck, whispered dirty praise in my ear.

"You’re dripping down my balls, baby. Such a messy girl."