Page 39 of Phantom Faceoff
He explores me like a canyoneer: tongue sweeping into my mouth, hands digging into tense muscles along my back.
I don’t know what to do with mine. I don’t know where I’m allowed to touch or what will spook him.
Eventually, my hands take hold in his hair, not pulling but holding myself steady.
I feel Malachi growing hard beneath me. The longer we kiss, the more apparent it becomes. All those earlier thoughts come flooding back, and my own cock fills as the passion heightens.
“I want to see you come,” I break away from his mouth to say, but not for long because he claims me again, swallowing my pathetic attempts at protest. “Malachi.”
A growl sounds deep in his throat, and I can practically feel myself leaking through my sweats. He grips my hips in both his hands and grinds me down on his lap, eliciting a sharp moan from my mouth as our covered cocks rub together.
There’s no reprieve from the kiss. Malachi makes it clear that for right now, I’m his to use. And use he does.
He rocks his hips up at the same time he pushes down on mine, and if I try to alter the rhythm in any way, he stills us both until I’m practically begging him to move again, and then he picks up. Slowly at first. Then, more forceful.
Nothing in the world exists except for our bodies and the burning pressure building in my groin. Malachi must feel it, too, because his breaths start coming out in shaky pants, and his hands dip to my ass to further trap me against him.
One more rough roll of his hips and Malachi stills. He tries to clamp his mouth shut, but I thrust my tongue inside and taste the cry he wants to hide.
I kiss him languidly as his body trembles, until he comes back to himself enough to move his mouth on mine. I don’t push any further, even as my cock pulses and weeps for attention.
When he breaks away, his hands fall from my ass to the backs of my thighs. He holds me there, not pulling me closer, but not pushing me away.
“We can’t do this again,” he says.
Why not?I want to ask, but I’m too busy staring at the dusting of maroon expanding across his cheeks to say anything at all. I could kiss Malachi for an eternity and never get tired of it.
“The kissing or the getting off?”
There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Either. Both.”
“Because of Julian?”
He knows we aren’t serious, but I understand not wanting to sleep with the same guy your best friend is hooking up with.
He shakes his head. I want to ask him then why the hell not, but the words get tangled up in my throat.
If it isn’t Julian, then the answer is obvious.
He doesn’t wantme. This was a one-off to relieve a couple years worth of sexual tension. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.
I’m used to people using me for my body. I hook up way more often than I enter relationships.
Still, I want to kiss him again.
The way his eyes gaze into mine, searching for god knows what, feels anything butcasualandfun, but I’m not going to push for what he’s not willing to give.
I swallow the hurt and force out a smile. “Sure thing.”
He cups the back of my head, and before I can protest, his lips are on me again. My mouth. My jaw. My neck.
Confusion swims in my brain, but I don’t move. I don’t pull away, and I don’t lean in.
“Malachi.”
He stops, and after a couple of deep breaths, peels himself away from me. He eases me off of his lap and stands, pressing himself as close to the tree as he can.
