(mf) – Malia

The girl in the library wouldn’t stop staring. I was working on a novel, same as usual, but out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but watch her. Her legs were curled under her on the sofa, and the book she had open in front of her was something fantasy-based. Wide, black-rimmed glasses framed a wonderfully pretty face. She wasn’t wearing anything special, just a comfy-looking pullover and tight jeans. The stare stretched on a while, five minutes, longer again. Oh, sure, occasionally she’d glance down at her book and pretend like she was reading it. Eventually, my curiosity overcame my caution and I closed the lid on my laptop. Slipped it into my backpack, swung the thing over my shoulders. Then I got up and walked towards her. I couldn’t read those eyes of hers. They were this light, baby-blue colour, all innocence. But there was something just a little darker lurking under the surface, I was sure of it. My constant paranoia had been in pretty good swing of late. But she looked gorgeous, and if I was honest, I wasn’t really feeling writing today. My car was parked outside, and my paycheck from the last online release was sitting comfortably in my bank account. Wouldn’t kill me to take a chance that this adorably cute wallflower was interested. She swung her feet off the sofa and looked down, like she’d not been staring at all, and I just stood there, looking over her. She was tall, I realised, a proper statuesque stunner. Slim, curved out in all the right places. There were quirky green Cons on her feet, and as I glanced down at my own, I decided that we would’ve easily fallen under some hashtag on social media if we were to do some casual photo shoot. #beautifulnerds or something.

“Hey,” I finally said, and she looked up.

“Yes?”

“You got anything on now?”

“I’m reading,” she said, like it wasn’t obvious. “So yes, I have something on.”

She was playing hard to get, I just knew it. “Well, can I interest you in a coffee break?”

My attractive gazer nibbled the corner of her lip with straight, pearly teeth. “Maybe. Where?”

Perks of being a writer – you knew where to find the best coffee, everywhere. I named the place, around the corner from the library. They had a Puerto-Rican blend, the best roast that imported South American beans had to offer. She closed her book, tucked it into her bag, and then stood up. The girl was tall – only a few inches off six foot – and she met my eyes with an intriguing, half-vulnerable smile. Just a curve at the corner of her soft mouth. Beguiling.

“You normally ask girls out before you ask them their names?” she queried.

“Mostly just the mysterious ones that stare at me,” I laughed.

“But now that you brought it up – may I have the pleasure?”

“Malia.” She surprised me with a gentle, graceful bow over clasped hands. I knew the gesture. A reference to the Elf contingent in a fantasy world written by an old friend named Von Senden.

I returned the gesture, and saw her smile again, so decided to humour her and spoke to her in Elvish. My pronunciation was a touch off, but I’d only helped sketch out some of the characters. Didn’t exactly have the book-busting skills to create an entire universe with varying races and languages. Your eyes are stars, and I tremble in their light. Over the top. Cheesy. But it was my use of the Elf-speak that impressed her.

“You’ve read the Darkening World series?”

“I helped write it,” I told her with a wink.

Her jaw dropped in the cutest way. “You fucking what?”

Just the way she swore made something snarl in my gut. Someone who looked so innocent shouldn’t have had that kind of vocabulary, but that’s what I loved about it most. The subversive nature of the way it was said. I just smiled and gestured towards the exit of the library. She had this amazing, bouncing step, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her ass moved in those jeans. Round and firm, just on the right side of big, adding to the curve of her hips and thighs. Jesus. It was just her casual walk, but the kinds of things it slipped into my mind… I forced myself to focus on the other patrons of the library. Milling around, looking disinterested, reading newspapers or poking at the shelves. Then we were outside. A thought struck me and I shot her a question.

“You drive here?”

“My mum dropped me off,” she told me. “I don’t have a car.”

I unlocked mine, and the cut-rate GTI Golf flicked its lights and beeped. Stepping off my foot, I slipped past her, opened the passenger door for her. Her eyes sparkled appreciatively, and as she slid down into it, I caught a whiff of her perfume. Some gorgeously musky, slightly sweet scent that I’d never seen before. I was in the car pretty quickly after that, wanting to breathe in as much of it as possible. Started the car, and then backed us out. Malia turned, watching me through her glasses, head tilted ever so slightly to the left. She brushed a strand of straightened hair behind her ear, and then smiled at me with that wonderfully mysterious air of hers.

“So tell me about writing the Darkening.”

I shrugged as I put the car into gear. “I just worked with some of the characters. Dean did most of the work. That man… he can create worlds like you wouldn’t believe. He’ll just go off the radar for a month and then come out with an entire planet, and have three-quarters of it figured out for you.”

“What’s he like?” she asked, excitedly. “Can I meet him?”

“He lives in London,” I told her. “And even I don’t know where anymore.”

“Why?”

“Fanbases are insane. He doesn’t want to get torn to pieces for doing what he loves.”

Malia looked let down, but she just looked ahead. Thinking, was my guess. Didn’t take me long to find a park. We made small talk while I ordered coffee, found us a private, rather cosy booth in the corner. I learned that she was from out of town. Wasn’t surprised about that. She definitely didn’t look like someone who came from a large country town. Recently moved in from Sydney, as a matter of fact. One of my old haunts. She was here with her mother. No mention of a father, or siblings. What brought her to the middle of nowhere? Apparently, she was just travelling, looking for somewhere to settle down. Money didn’t seem to be an issue. And she asked me all kinds of questions, too. Like what I did for a living. Writing, mostly working with other writers or studios. Seasonal work. Lot of Skype calls. I travelled light, made my money, didn’t get tied down anywhere. I was back here presently because of my family. I gave her the light version, and our coffee arrived. She sipped it appreciatively, slender fingers wrapped around the mug protectively. Someone who enjoyed it. We flirted, unapologetically in some cases. We talked about my current project, working with an American studio on a post-apocalypse game that was apparently in the AAA range, if I was being told the right thing. I’d pinned her as a geek the second I saw her, and Malia quickly proved me right. She had an incredible knowledge of fantasy, ranging from novels to video games to tabletop. Even more than me, in some cases. We always seemed to come back to the Darkening. Seemed like it was her favourite out of all of them. I glanced at my phone after a while, and realised with a jolt that we’d been sitting there for three hours. Empty coffee mugs were strewn out in front of us. Malia was leaning forward on the table, chin in her hand, smiling at me. Playful, now, with just an edge of mystery. Those wonderful blue eyes of hers, smiling, promising all kinds of things and yet holding them back. Confident enough in herself to know what she was making me feeling. Just enough vulnerability to invite me to try and win her. To prove myself to her.
Malia was good at this.
I offered to drive her home. She accepted. And it was as I pulled into the drive of her house – a two-storey palace compared to where I lived – she casually asked me if I was busy for the rest of the afternoon. I thought about it, and then looked at her. Breathed in her scent. Felt my gut snarl at me. And I said no.
Things snowballed after that. I stepped inside her house, and she dropped her bag on the floor. Then she turned and blocked my way into her house. I paused, hesitant, and then Malia stepped forward. A little hesitant. Then she caved into some kind of decision in her mind and she kissed me. It happened so fast, I barely had time to react, or to even think. One second she was standing there, watching me. Biting her lip. And then her mouth was against mine. It was soft and warm, careful. I froze, and then relaxed into the kiss, reaching up. Brushing her cheek with my thumb… then her hands were in my hair, and she was kissing me harder. I could feel her through her clothes. The generous swell of her chest, pressing hard into mine… Malia sank her teeth into my lip, and I felt myself snarl softly at it. Her hands slid out of my hair, caressing my neck, curling around the collar of my shirt… I let my hands explore her. Run over her shoulders, down her lean, shaped back, down to her hips. Part of my mind was amazed at her. Firstly, how forward she was, christ… but the way she was built. The perfect combination of slim, lean, and curvy. Her kisses were strong, too. Fantastically passionate. My blood was flaming, and I could already feel myself getting hard. Malia could feel it too. Her hands squeezed my ass, and she pressed herself into me. Couldn’t help a soft gasp escape into our kiss. Malia’s soft, sweet mouth curved into a smile and she pulled away from me. Her nose brushed mine, just the barest contact of skin. It tickled like crazy.

“I want you,” she breathed, “so fucking badly.”

“Well, congrats. You broke through my virgin shield.”

She laughed, caught a fistful of my shirt and yanked me out of the hallway. I stumbled after her, feeling some kind of crazy grin touch my face. This couldn’t possibly have gone any better… then Malia twisted. Somehow, I managed to catch a glimpse of her tastefully-decorated lounge room, before she shoved me onto one of her couches. I covered my head, and it occurred to me that she’d done some kind of martial arts training. Unless she was secretly some kind of vampire and I hadn’t noticed… then she was in my lap, powerful, long legs pinning me to the black leather. Her hands pulled at my shirt, desperate to get me out of it, and she kissed me again. There was urgency in her movement, some kind of crazy electricity. And it was infectious. I sat up a little and she got the last button undone, yanked the shirt over my shoulders. Her hands, cool and velvety, brushed my chest. Slid over my stomach, my arms, pulling the sleeves down further… her tongue found mine. She tasted like coffee and chocolate, and I felt myself moan as she slid her tongue in, deep, exploring my mouth as she tried to strip me down. She was grinding herself on me like an animal in heat, and even through the clothes, it was incredible. I grabbed her ass, pulled her against me harder, and then my fingers slipped up and hooked around the hem of her sweater. Malia pulled her mouth away from mine, nibbled my ear. The tip of her tongue traced it, and then I heard her whisper to me. Softly and sweetly and sexily.

“I’m sooo glad you asked me to coffee.”

“Get in line,” I gasped back.

“We’re just getting fucking started, Pete. Don’t pussy out on me.”

Her sweater came off her as fast I could pull it. Underneath, the firm swell of her chest was held in place by a lacy, Victoria’s Secret item. She slid off my lap, to the floor, and then attacked my belt. I knew what was coming next, and I watched her quick, dexterous fingers slip in and out. Then my slacks were loose. She yanked my boxers and pants down in one quick movement. Her cool, soft hands found my cock, and then I was in her mouth. A snarling moan shot out of my mouth so fast I couldn’t control it. Her soft, baby-blue eyes didn’t leave mine as she pleasured me. Tongue swirling, mouth tight and wet and so, so smooth… I couldn’t do anything, just lie there and watch her, twist and buckle my hips. Try not to come. It was so fucking hard… she ran her tongue right up my shaft, and then reached behind her. I shoved myself off the couch. Caught the straps of her bra and slipped them clean off her shoulders. One easy, practiced movement, and the expensive lace was on the floor. We knelt on the lounge room carpet together, breathing hard… and then Malia was kissing me again, her hand tightening around my cock, jerking me. Trying to get me to explode early. God, she was such a tease… my hands found her chest, firm and just the right size to fit my hands. I squeezed, and then shoved her onto the carpet. I took my chest into my mouth, circled her tips with my tongue. She twisted, moaning, her hands in my hair… her long, strong legs curled around me, pulling me against her. But she was still wearing those tight jeans of hers. I needed to rip them off her, and quickly. But instead, I chose to squeeze her chest, please her with my mouth. She twisted, finding my face, fingernails slicing over my shoulders, making me hiss… I could feel Malia grinding herself against my stomach, moaning. Desperate. She leaned back and moaned and giggled as I bit down on her chest, especially hard. Then she pulled me back to her face again, and we made out on her carpet. She already had me naked, panting, ready to be inside her, and she was just lying there in those jeans of hers. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her glasses. I could taste salt in her kiss now. I could feel her fingernails still, digging into my back, dragging over my skin. Making me even more crazy for her. My pulse was slamming in my ears, and every muscle in my body felt tense from my need for her…

“Get inside me, you fucking bastard,” she moaned in my ear.

“Are you s-”

She bit my neck, hard enough to make my flinch and moan. “Yes. Right this fucking second.”

I reared back, caught her jeans. Unbuttoned them with shaking hands. Her panties were the same matching lace as the bra, but I didn’t care at this point. I bared her, pulled the whole lot down. Long, slim, tanned legs spread as I worked the jeans and the underwear out of her ankles. She was smooth-shaven, throbbing, and I ran a hand over her pussy as my other hand pulled her closer. She twisted, kicking away from me. Got her feet under her, stood up. Brushed her hair out of her face. Looked down at me, those baby-blue eyes hardening from lust, from need. I launched off my haunches and tackled her into the couch. Shoved her legs apart, and then brought my mouth to her warm, soaked folds. I licked her like an ice cream, hard sometimes, flickering and dancing over her at others. I kissed, caressed, and sucked at her, and Malia rewarded me. She moaned like an animal – deep, hard, punctuated with the occasional squeal as I slid a finger into her and explored inside. Her hands, in my hair, kept pulling my face back to her, and she ground her hips into me. Bucking. Squirming. Loving every second of what I did to her. My hands traced patterns over her thighs… every now and then, I’d take a detour. Leave teeth marks on her belly, or the insides of her thighs… and every time, she’d pull me back in to lick her again. I could feel her shivering, hear the telltale signs of her beginning to come. Her hands found the couch and curled around it… and that was when I finally pulled my face away from her thighs and slid into her. Malia was fantastically wet – I slid in so easily that I gasped. Bent over her, on the couch… her hands pulled my face down to hers and she licked the whole side of my face, like an affectionate pet. Something about the wet contact of her tongue broke whatever control I had left. I started fucking her. Her legs were spread, feet curled around my thighs, her hands on my hips, my ass, pulling me in deeper and harder with each stroke. She moaned, whimpered, took me and wanted more and more.

“Harder,” she snarled in my ear, suddenly vicious. “Fuck me right.”

I went harder. I took her harder, until the whole couch was rocking underneath us. For the first time in ages, I felt myself let go. No control, no need to please, to be careful. She was taking everything I fucking had and telling me to go harder. Her pussy was streaming wet, tight, and Malia never failed to shove herself onto me, and moan. Loud, hard, without apology. Her whole face was a picture of tortured ecstasy. I felt myself snarling as I pumped in and out of her, harder, faster…

“Fucking come,” I heard her say. “Fill me up. I need you to come inside me…”

“Malia…. shit…”
She licked my face again, and then screamed softly, spasming. I felt her cover my cock, and barely a moment later, I exploded inside her. I leaned into her and snarled like a fucking animal in her ear. Coming harder, freely, more easily than I had in months. With a girl I’d only just met, who was a seductress unlike any other I’d met. After a moment, I slid out of her and fell, buck-ass naked, onto the carpet, in the ocean of clothes that’d we created. I looked up at her, gorgeously naked, shining with sweat, panting for breath. That baby-blue gaze still fixed on me, just like it had been back at the library. Now I knew the kind of gaze it was. Now I knew exactly why she’d wanted me. Malia had planned this from the start….

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/7ybfd2/mf_malia