Page 55 of Phantom Faceoff
“Oh. Um, yeah. Jules is waiting up.”
Are you going to talk about me? Tell him how you had my dick in your mouth?
Surely not, but normally I’d joke about it anyway. The air is weird. It’s the first time we’ve gone beyond kissing, and I can’t help but wonder how Malachi really feels about it.
How cheesy is that?
“Malachi.”
“Hm?”
“You want this too, right?”
He cocks his head. “I sucked your dick.”
Yeah, I know how ridiculous I sound, but my heart is beating so hard my chest hurts. I need to clear the damn air.
After a minute, Malachi smiles. It’s small and soft, but it’s there. “It was good, Wildfire.”
I don’t mean to look down—more away to keep myself from putting on an all out grin—but I catch him adjusting his still-hard dick behind his fly.
“You sure you don’t want help with that?”
Malachi’s cheeks heat up in an instant, and it dawns on me that maybe—and my obnoxious ass should have thought of this sooner—he isn’tready.
He’s not a virgin; both he and Julian have made that clear, but he hasn’t slept around in years. While I don’t know the reason, I suspect there’s more to it than lack of interest.
When we’re both ready to walk out the door and silently make our ways back to our separate housings, Malachi wraps his fingers around my wrist and mutters, “wait.”
His face is contemplative yet still beet red. I turn my hand and tug it slightly until I can slide my fingers into his and give them a comforting squeeze.
He laughs—barely audible—and meets my eyes.
“I’ll record myself getting off,” he says in one breath, knocking mine out of my lungs. “Pass your next test, and I’ll send it to you.”
If that’s not the most motivating sentence ever spoken, I don’t know what is.
I don’t pass the test.
It ticks me off for more than just the fact that I won’t get to watch Malachi touch himself—though that is a travesty. I’vebeen studying and working hard as much as I can between practice and other coursework, but I had already fallen behind, and even with Malachi’s helping hand, catching up is still a bitch.
Which means I kind of am too, and everyone has been more than willing to let me know it. Which makes me even crankier.
Usually I’d blow off steam with Julian—a good make out session usually winds me right down—but I promised Malachi if we were going to fool around it would just be the two of us.
Even with all the static dancing under my skin, that’s not something I’m willing to give up.
Instead, I go for a run and find myself smack dab in front of The Den. It’s like the place is taunting me. Reminding me of our dirty endeavor inside it’s walls and mocking what I fucked myself out of.
“What did the shop ever do to you? Other than house your annoying ass for every single shift Malachi has.”
Micky is standing in the entryway, arms crossed and hip cocked on the frame.
“I’m not here that much.” I swipe at the swear on my face with the bottom of my tank top.
“I beg to differ. You’re here more than I am.”
I shrug. “Malachi here?”
