Page 54 of Phantom Faceoff
I want to witness Malachi fall apart. I want to feel him tremble and hold my head so hard it hurts. I want to taste his cum.
My eyes rise to his lips.
I want to taste mine on him.
He chuckles and steps so close his hard dick brushes my soft one. His hands slide under my shirt, fingers splayed across my ribs.
“Ask me to kiss you.”
He’s so close, and he knows he has blanket permission. I want his mouth on mine every moment he’s willing to give it to me.
He must still be punishing me, but I can’t say I’m entirely mad about it.
I tilt my head, pulling him as close as he’ll allow. When the words pass my lips, they’re hardly a whisper, more an exhaled breath. “Kiss me, Daddy.”
He obliges with his tongue instantly finding home between my teeth.
I was able to hold myself together while he blew me, enthralled by his sounds and the look of him on his knees. But now that all I have to focus on is his tongue in my mouth, his lips on mine, and his fingers tweaking my nipples, I can’t hold back the needy noises fighting their way out.
I’m loud. Too loud. Malachi brings a hand down on my ass again, but that only makes me louder.
“Fuck,” I gasp into his mouth. “Not helping.”
He laughs and tips my head back, trailing his lips across my jaw and down my neck. “No ones going to hear you, Wildfire. I promise. Be as loud as you want for me.”
I need confident, sexy Malachi in my life at all times.
“All the customers are gone. The door is locked. I told Micky he could go home.”
If it were up to me, we would have gone at it in the locker room, but all Malachi did was work me up and leave me begging to be touched. He insisted on making me wait: doing dinner with him and Julian—where he relentlessly teased me more. Then, he dragged me to The Den where I had to sit through his shift—sure it was only two or three hours—before hefinallybrought me to one of the rooms in the back and gave me my much anticipated reward.
“And if he didn’t?”
He flicks his tongue against my earlobe, catching it with a quick nip between his teeth. I suck in a breath, and his laugh cascades across my cheek.
“Well, then now he knows what it sounds like when someone owns you.”
Who knew the whole possessive act would be a turn on?
“Is that what you want, Daddy? To own me?”
I can sense his hesitation, like maybe we’ve crossed too far into unfamiliar territory.
“Do you want to get off?” I change the subject. “I don’t have to touch you. You can … use my thighs. Or just jerk one out and spray me with it. I don’t mind.”
He contemplates it. The way his hands linger on my chest, trail lightly down my sides—he’s thinking about it.
But instead of reaching for his belt, he tucks me back into my briefs and pulls them—along with my pants—up over my ass.
“Maybe next time.”
Relief I hadn’t realized I’d been holding out for floods my system. This wasn’t a one off. He wants to do it again.
He kisses me again, brief and sweet, and when he pulls away, I know he’s re-erected the wall between his usual self and who he lets himself be in bed.
I always thought Malachi was unapproachable because he was off-putting on purpose, but after spending time with him I realize it’s simply because he’s awkward. He has a chronic case of Resting Dick Face that makes him seem scarier than he is.
“You heading back to the dorms?” I ask after a bout of silence.
