Mallrie presses me against a tree, and the bark scrapes against my arms. The sudden movement and pressure in my back knocked the breath out of me, my lips parted, and Mallrie is there, unapologetically taking what little air was left in my lungs. My hands fly to his hair, threading through the soft strands as I pull him tighter against me. I don’t know who needs this more, Mallrie or me. His hands move to my jeans, quickly unbuttoning them. His fingers brush against my thong, and he groans into my mouth. Pulling away, Mallrie looks down at the purple scrap of fabric peeking out of my black jeans. “Do you like it?” I murmur.

Mallrie drops to his knees, tugging my jeans as far as they’ll go before the dagger becomes in the way. A throaty laugh escapes me. “I’d think so,” I say, taking that as a yes. “After all, I stuffed them in the back of my drawer.” I can’t help but mention that he actively looked through my underwear drawer. Mallrie’s eyes go dark as his thumb presses over the fabric, and I can feel how wet I already am. Suddenly, his hands grip my ass, and my world is spinning. I scream as Mallrie lays me down over a fallen tree. The soft damp moss tickles my exposed skin.

“You can be such a brat, you know that, right?” Mallrie growls before tugging my pants around my knees, forcing the dagger and holster down too. Then he grabs my thighs and throws them over his head so they’re resting on his broad shoulders. Mallrie tugs my thong to the side, and then his mouth is against my centre, his tongue gliding through my wet folds to find my clit and circle it slowly. My back arches against the tree, and I moan loudly, unable to keep quiet despite Mallrie’s warnings every time we enter the forest.

Monsters be damned. If this is how I died, with Mallrie between my thighs, it would be a good death. Beckett never ate me out like this. Mallrie feasts on me like I am his last meal.