Page 48 of Wild Card

“You already know I am.” I stood, heaving the new glasses out of the box then cutting into the next box.

“Yeah, but does Mallory know that? You two…you guys looked like…you looked at each other like you wanted to tear each other’s clothes off, so you might want to have a convo about this situation.”

“There is no situation. I’m only hanging around her to get to Taylor, and I owe her a story, which is exactly why she came with me yesterday.” Napkins—we had a thousand fucking unopened packages of napkins, but Geno kept ordering them. I told him we were good for a while, but the bastard added it every fucking week.

My little brother’s scoff made me see red, but he cut me off before I could put him in his place. “Even I know what you’re doing is shitty. We both know she can’t run that story…you’re stringing her along, all for your own purposes. That’s jacked up, bro.” His tone softened, which fucking enraged me further.

“This isn’t even your business, Kyle. If you’re concerned about someone, focus on Mom. She needs help around the house, paying the bills, fixing shit. I can’t do it all.” I spoke with so much venom I actually cringed.

The silence that followed nearly hollowed me out. I loved my brother. He was only sixteen; this shit wasn’t his to worry about. He should have been goofing off, being a kid, not worrying about our mother checking out or the shit around the house, but I hated how right he was about Mallory. I hated that there was a chance I cared about her more than I should.

I hated that I was essentially fucking her over where the story was concerned, but what was I supposed to do? Give up my status on the Devils? Fuck…they were all I had left besides Kyle and Mom, although my mom wasn’t really there. I was lonely, but I had the team, and they had my back. Even though some of the players were cocksuckers who called me shitty names, they weren’t all bad. I couldn’t give that up, especially since I’d be job hunting the day after I moved back home.

“Fuck you, D. You deserve what’s coming if this is how you’re going to be.”

He hung up, which didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was his incoming text. It was a picture he’d taken of me and Mallory. It was the two of us in my bed, her tucked into my chest, my arm around her, my other hand dangling over her hip. Her face was serene, a tiny smile playing along her mouth…and fuck, I looked peaceful. I couldn’t believe I had slept in my bed, in my room…during a storm. I ignored the fact that it was creepy as fuck that he’d snuck in to get the picture, although on some level, if the tables were reversed and he hadn’t slept in his room in over a year, I’d grab a picture too.

I blinked, rubbing the stress out of my eyes, taking a second to think back over the night and why I’d agreed to try to sleep up there in the first place.

Ripping into another box did nothing at all to distract me from realizing I had totally led Mallory on by taking her upstairs.

Mostly I had just been exhausted. Memories had torn at me for hours while I sat next to Mallory. Seeing her on that couch, cuddled under that throw blanket my grandmother had made…it messed with me. But I kept myself busy, trying to get the power back on and the generator running so the frozen things didn’t go bad. Once I finally did, I sat down, my fingers greedily searching for any contact with skin that they could make.

When she stood and suggested we go to the truck, there was just this need to touch her, and I originally planned to kiss her, maybe do more with her…then that fucking tattoo. Curiosity got the better of me. Fuck, what were the odds of it being something that had to do with being safe in a storm? Suddenly I just needed her, wanted to hold her all night like my own Irish rune and see if it would keep the demons at bay. Just for one night.

If I could sleep in that room, just once…

I had…and that fucking messed with my head.

So, I did what I could to feel in control.

I deleted the picture and pocketed my phone.

* * *

Mallory:Hey, I’m craving a cinnamon roll…wanna go browse books and share one?

I flipped my phone over on my knee and continued watching the game play out on my flatscreen. I’d known she would text me eventually. After we woke up early and left my house without a word and me not explaining jack shit about my mom or brother, of course she was curious. I had been mentally preparing to shoot her down, tell her I was busy and give her some kind of brushoff, but now that her name was there flashing on my screen, I couldn’t seem to do it.

Instead I ignored her.

I’d only respond if she mentioned me hanging out with Taylor. It was eating me up inside to do it, but she knew the deal, and I refused to budge…even if she was doing the very thing I had always envisioned doing when I one day found someone to actually have a relationship with. I could picture her there, those green eyes narrowed, a pair of black glasses (which I was sure she owned) perched on her face, that hair cascading down in a tangled mess of brown and reddish-gold hues. Her perfect tits would be straining against whatever shirt she wore, and those curves would be highlighted in a pair of sinfully tight jeans.

I blinked, the game going in and out of focus as I imagined Mallory smiling, leading me by the hand to an empty section of the bookstore. She’d spin against one of the stacks, bite her lip, and toss her head back on a gasp as I leaned in, capturing those luscious lips in a kiss. We’d make out for a few minutes, my hands greedily roaming her curves until I made my way down that body and slowly pulled those jeans down her thighs. Fuck, she’d be in a dark green thong, and I’d shove my nose in between her thighs, pressing my thumb against the wet spot over her clit. I’d tell her I liked how wet she was for me, then I’d throw her leg over my shoulder and dive in. I’d lick through her glistening folds, up and down her pussy, tugging her open for me so I didn’t miss a single drop of her arousal. She’d beg me for more, grip my hair, and rub herself against my face until she came hard, screaming my name.

I let out an audible groan as I fantasized about her. I was alone in the apartment, but I’d never pull my dick out while in the living room, so like I had at least ten times since meeting Mallory, I walked back to the bathroom and shut myself inside.

Unzipping my jeans, I pulled myself free of my boxers and gripped my erection. Shutting my eyes tightly, I pictured her falling to her knees in front of me, eyes on mine the entire time she gripped my dick, her red lips skimming the underside of my shaft, licking away the precum on the tip then taking me fully into her mouth.

Moving my hand up and down my cock, I kept imagining the sound she would make while choking on my length. I’d grab the back of her head and shove my hips forward, fucking that pert little mouth of hers while those big green eyes stayed glued to me.

“Fuck.” My voice was raspy as I furiously jerked my dick.

I imagined stripping her bare. She’d hold her breasts together, pinning those lips in between her teeth, and I’d fucking come all over her chest and face.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” Ribbons of white landed all over the counter and inside the sink as a spine-tingling shudder ran through me, forcing an audible groan from me. I usually did this in the shower, which further demonstrated that I was losing control of my feelings for her. Jerking off to images of having Mallory was occurring too frequently. I needed to get a grip, get her out of my system. Maybe if I kept enough distance, these feelings and urges would start to dissipate.

They had to.

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