Chapitre 82: My Trinidadinian King

Demyan 

"Morning," Malia padded into the kitchen dressed in one of my large shirts and one of her dancing tights as penguin print socks covered her feet. Her hair was bed wild; I believed more from my fingers running through it, and her skin held a glow to it as she smiled up at me.

I could see the hickeys decorating her neck which made my stomach twist in a slight shame as she wrapped her arms around my waist, went on her tippy toes and pressed a kiss to my lips. 

Despite my moral compass disapproval, I wrapped my arms around her and deepened the kiss as I held the back of her head and gripped her hair which caused a whimper to escape her lips. 

"Why weren't you in bed?" she ran her hands under my shirt as she pressed herself against me, "You need to make up for lost time."