Page 15 of Coming for the Champion
“Rory.” Did Rory imagine the slight awe in Malcolm’s voice? He hoped so, and when he was done with his task, he lifted Malcolm’s foot and kissed it. He kissed each toe, then dragged his lips along Malcolm’s arches, over the sensitive skin, and Malcolm groaned. A deep guttural groan that sent shivers racing over Rory’s skin.
“Rory. My God.”
“You said everywhere.” Rory paid attention to Malcolm’s other foot, giving it the same treatment, until Malcolm’s head dropped backwards, and only then, did Rory use his hands and mouth to kiss and caress all the way up Malcolm’s legs, savouring those incredible thighs and finally when Malcolm was begging for it, only then did Rory flick his tongue over the head of Malcolm’s thick, dripping cock.
The salt on his tongue exploded as Malcolm cried out his name, and Rory expected Malcolm to grab his head and guidehim, even roughly, down over the thick shaft, but Malcolm did not.
“Would you please?”
“Please what?”
“Suck me.”
It was thrilling to be asked and yet it wasn’t quite what Rory needed. He needed to be used. But he waited before asking, licking his tongue up the length of Malcolm’s cock. His own had been hard and heavy throughout this whole evening, and now rubbed needily against his pants. Fuck, he was still dressed in his town clothes.
“Guide me.” Rory wanted to be used, he wanted to feel Malcolm’s cock at the back of his throat, and he wanted Malcolm’s hands—those beautiful heavy tools—threaded in his hair and holding his skull. He slowly sucked Malcolm’s cock into his mouth, moving impossibly slowly as he waited for Malcolm to decide how much he wanted.
“Like this?” Malcolm tentatively cradled Rory’s head and pushed him down. Yes. Rory moaned his agreement, his mouth deliciously full. Soon enough they worked out the rhythm together and it was all Rory could do but relax his face while clinging to Malcolm’s thighs with his fingers. He flattened his tongue and took as much as he could, and while Malcolm guided, it wasn’t quite with enough control as Rory needed. He was still the one determining how much he could take and how fast he slid up and down. And then the moment came when Malcolm finally let go of whatever was holding him back. Malcolm’s fingers dug into Rory’s temples—yes—and he pushed Rory down. His mouth was impossibly full and when Malcolm’s cock hit the back of his throat, there was nothing he could do but groan and try to beg for more with tears leaking from the corners of his mouth. This was exactly what he wanted. To be used. What a gift Malcolm had given him, and now Malcolm’s rhythmbecame desperate, and his breathing became faster and louder until Rory was just a passenger, the vessel that gave Malcolm pleasure and it was perfection. He could come right now, but he didn’t because he needed to swallow down Malcolm’s pleasure first. He slid his hands up Malcolm’s thighs, and cupped his balls, and yes, that was all it took for Malcolm to spurt into Rory’s mouth, filling him with salty seed that slid down his throat. It was the best ending for a thoroughly confusing day.
“Come up here.” Malcolm grabbed his shoulders and Rory rose off his knees, pins and needles firing in his feet, until he collapsed on the bed in Malcolm’s arms. Malcolm slid one hand between them, and the moment he covered Rory’s length with that huge hand, Rory came in a rush of blinding light. And then there were kisses and a hot heavy hug, and finally Rory’s thoughts stopped and he fell asleep surrounded by Malcolm’s weighted hands and solid comforting body.
Fuck knows how many hours later, the sun filtered through the curtains and Rory woke up alone. And for the first time in his life, it made him sad. He pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes, the pressure helping keep all emotions at bay. Malcolm had left after the best night of his life. So what? They weren’t destined to be together, like a couple, it was just sex. Amazing wonderful sex. And, his brain slowly woke up to reality—they were in Malcolm’s friend’s hotel—they couldn’t exactly wake up together. Oh no. Rory’s heart was beating like the clappers. He wanted to wake up with Malcolm. Fucking hell, this was a disaster. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love. Not so quickly and not before he’d done what he came to London to do. He was a goddamned fool.
Chapter 12
Rory learned that there was no such thing as a quick goodbye when it came to Malcolm’s friends Tommy and Gloria. They’d sent a messenger ahead to Lord Bennington to let him know that they intended to return his carriage by lunch and were still saying their goodbyes when a return message came summoning them to another meeting at the King’s Book Club.
“Remember what I said,” Tommy clapped Malcolm on the back once more as he climbed into the carriage. Rory took the basket of sandwiches from Gloria and thanked her again for her hospitality, then followed Malcolm inside. Last time they’d been in this carriage together, only yesterday, Rory had been overwhelmed by the hopelessness of his situation, and now nothing had really changed except everything had changed. All he’d needed to do was show people the reality of his situation and talk about his problems with people who understood him.
“I’m glad we did this. It’s been illuminating,” Rory reached out for Malcolm’s hands, but he drew them away with a shake of his head.
“We can’t see each other again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yesterday wasn’t real. It was temporary. A moment that can’t happen again.”
Rory’s stomach sank, a leaden feeling that stole all the relief of the morning, wiping it away like the trainer’s cloth removing blood from an eyebrow cut. But instead of leaving him clean, he was left empty.
“Why not?”
“I have a life that isn’t boxing. That...” Malcolm waved his hand in the air, the shakes noticeable even though he tried to hide them in movement. “Isn’t this.”
Rory swallowed down his hurt and instead of pleading with Malcolm, it came out in a bitter ball that left a sour taste on his tongue. “Are you a coward?”
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed and his skin darkened across his cheeks. “No. I have a peaceful life. I can’t change that on the whims of some ... Scotsman with a taste for revenge.”
Rory’s breath whistled through his teeth. “Well, if that isn’t misrepresenting everything I said.” He’d taken a risk and reluctantly told his story and now this? All the reasons why he’d not wanted to speak came flooding back. He folded his arms and closed his eyes, unable to deal with whatever it was Malcolm thought he was doing. How could he go from being so protective and, Rory bit back a sigh, so fucking wonderful to this cold monster? No, Malcolm wasn’t a monster. It merely felt that way because deep down in the clutches of his heart, Rory had started to care for him and now it hurt to be pushed away so easily.
“Do I at least get an explanation for the sudden change of heart?” Rory shouldn’t ask. It was probably pointless, but damn it, he deserved to know why Malcolm had switched his opinion so quickly.
“No.” Malcolm crossed his arms, leaning back on the chair. It was a little absurd given the lack of space in Bennington's carriage, their knees were almost touching, but the inch between them could’ve been a mile given how obvious Malcolm’s animosity was.
“I suppose you learned that from your Duke. The art of never explaining yourself?”
Malcolm’s eyes flashed open for the briefest of moments, then he closed them again, but he didn’t speak. After a long silence with only the clatter of the carriage wheels over the macadam, Rory tried to reset his expectations. He was back where he started, really. That was the likely reality of Malcolm’s change of heart. It was just him, trying to save his estate. Alone.He breathed in deep, as he realised that this meant one thing. It was up to him to talk to Bennington and stop this nonsense of a boxing match. If nothing else, he could give Malcolm that as a parting gift and protect Malcolm from any future head knocks that might make his shakes worse.
When the carriage finally pulled up, he pushed past Malcolm to get out first, then turned and spoke over his shoulder. “I will deal with Bennington. Don’t worry yourself about it. I’ll stop the fight.” He marched towards the club entrance and nodded at the grinning butler as he climbed the stairs. He banged on the office manager’s door with his fist.
