Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
B ull was pretty sure he was having an out-of-body experience.
That or someone had drugged him at the clubhouse, and he was hallucinating his wildest dream come to life.
Malcolm—the same Malcolm he’d been obsessed with and doing his fucking best to not let know just how deep the obsession went—was gripping his cock and jacking him.
There was no way this was happening.
He squeezed again, and Bull grunted, fire racing through him.
It was not even a good hand job, but it was perfection because it was Malcolm.
His sweet face was staring at Bull’s junk like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening either…
but he didn’t stop. He didn’t pull away in disgust or fear at the size of him.
Malcolm leaned closer, his warm breath lighting up the sensitive skin of Bull’s glans, and he needed to stop this. Or come. Or beg Malcolm to grip him tighter, spit on his dick, and go faster .
No, he should definitely stop it. Before he shot come all over his employee’s face for fucking breathing on him too hard.
“We should—” His thick words turned garbled when his dick disappeared from view, the wild hair at the back of Malcolm’s head the only thing he could see, and then wetness . “ Christ .”
“Do you want me to keep going?” Malcolm asked, his lips brushing against the crown of Bull’s cock, and he was about to spank his perfect ass for teasing him and throwing his own words back at him.
“So you do have some brat in you,” Bull rumbled, tentatively carding his fingers through the wild waves he couldn’t look away from.
Malcolm shivered at the touch.
God damn.
“Ollie said being a brat is more fun than being sweet,” Malcolm whispered, rubbing his damp lips up and down Bull’s throbbing shaft. “Thought I’d try it out.”
“I regret letting you meet him.”
Malcolm lifted his head, and Bull sucked in a breath at the sight of him: flushed cheeks, wet mouth, and pupils blown to smithereens. “Really?”
There was an edge of… something in his voice, like he was honestly worried Bull could regret a single fucking moment of the night. He traced the shell of Malcolm’s ear. “No, baby boy. But don’t let him convince you to be anyone but who you want to be.”
A shy, beautiful smile broke over his face. “I won’t.”
“Good.” He licked his lips, wondering if it would be too much for Malcolm if he guided his face back down and encouraged him to go back to exploring Bull’s cock. Probably. No, definitely. “Do you want… What do you want?”
The flush in Malcolm’s cheeks deepened. “I don’t know. Can I just… do what feels right?”
“Of course.” Even if it killed Bull from a massive case of blue balls.
Smiling again, Malcolm shifted so he was on his knees, then leaned over the center console—the worst invention in the history of the world, Bull decided—and licked across his tip again, humming thoughtfully.
“I thought it would taste different.”
Bull thunked his head back onto the headrest, his thighs tensing automatically when Malcolm planted a hand on one to brace himself. “Different?”
In the dark corners of his mind, the places he liked to pretend weren’t there, he’d imagined having a moment like this with Malcolm. Fuck, he’d imagined a hundred different variations of Malcolm suddenly showing interest in sucking his dick.
But he never could have anticipated how chatty it would end up being.
For some reason—or at least a reason he wasn’t interested in examining too closely—he always imagined it being quick and furtive and dirty and then them going their separate ways.
This was a million times better.
Malcolm shrugged, his other hand disappearing and wrapping around the base of Bull’s dick. He bit back a groan, holding his hips still from sheer terror he’d freak Malcolm out if he tried to thrust into his face.
“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he said unsteadily, sliding his hand down to Malcolm’s upper back, not wanting him to feel trapped by the hold in his hair.
“I didn’t say that.” Then he wrapped his lips around Bull’s head and sucked lightly.
Lightning shot through him, and he couldn’t completely keep his hips from moving, a ragged groan slicing the steamy air of his truck cab. “Fuck, baby. That feels so good.”
He felt Malcolm shudder at his praise, his legs shifting restlessly, and Bull zeroed in on that tiny movement. Was Malcolm aroused too? Was he really getting off on sucking him?
Or was it just the pet names and praise? A reaction he couldn’t help, just the submissive in him craving the attention, even if it was coming from a man.
He didn’t know how to be sure, but he wouldn’t deny Malcolm something they both enjoyed.
“You’re a natural at this. Fucking perfect for me.”
Malcolm gasped around his dick, hips swiveling.
Yeah, he liked that a lot. Bull wanted to shower him in praise, fill him up with kind words and unending affection, but before he could say anything else, he nearly swallowed his tongue as Malcolm took more of his cock into his warm mouth and moaned.
The vibration cascaded down his shaft and landed in his balls, drawing them up.
“Fucking fuck,” Bull groaned, fingers diving back into that soft hair all on their own.
“Your mouth is…” He grunted, Malcolm’s hand sliding up and down again but now so much easier with his slick spit smoothing the way.
“That’s it. Use your tongue on— yes , just like that, baby.
God, you’re so good at this, made to suck this big dick. ”
Malcolm’s movements quickened, tiny whimpers filling Bull’s ears and driving him out of his mind.
He was going to blow any second—he couldn’t hold back, not when he had the perfect boy eagerly sucking him.
The same one he’d dreamed about for months, had imagined getting to have a million times.
He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve getting Malcolm, but he’d thank every deity he could think of just as soon as his balls were empty.
That cute, pert little ass he’d done his best not to stare at shifted in the air again, and he couldn’t help but slide his hand down Malcolm’s firm back, pausing at his hip. Would he want Bull to touch him like that?
Slowly, he crept his fingers up and over the small curve of Malcolm’s ass, then squeezed.
Jolting, Malcolm lifted his head, wiping at his mouth in an obscene way that had Bull’s dick throbbing . He didn’t move his hand though, waiting to see what Malcolm would say.
“Okay?” Bull asked softly.
“Um.” Malcolm glanced away, eyes dropping to Bull’s chest and teeth sinking into his swollen bottom lip. He could almost hear his brain working, trying to decide if he liked the possessive touch or not. Raising his gaze, he nodded. “Only seems fair since I’m touching you.”
Bull lifted his hand away, frowning. “That’s not how consent works, baby boy. You’re allowed to say no to anything you don’t want, same as me.”
A soft smile graced his lips. “I know, Bull. I was teasing.” Then he pursed his lips in thought. “Wait, is there something you don’t want me to do?”
Bull snorted. “I literally can’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t let you do.”
Malcolm ducked his head, but Bull caught his grin. Cupping his adorable, pointed chin, Bull lifted his face, holding his eyes as he dropped his other hand back onto his ass. His lips parted, eyes wide, but he didn’t try and look away.
“You sure this is okay?”
His pink tongue peeked out, swiping at his distracting lips. “I’m sure.”
“What if I want to slip my fingers inside these jeans?” Bull asked, pressing his fingers into the sensitive underside of Malcolm’s cheek through the rough material. “What if I want to come on your gorgeous face as I touch your sexy little ass?”
Malcolm sucked in a breath, lashes fluttering as he blinked quickly. “I don’t… I’m not sure…”
Bull nodded. “It won’t happen, then.”
The conflict in those pretty eyes would be enough for him, the knowledge that Malcolm was even tempted to let Bull grope him like that and leave his mark on his skin. He’d take whatever he could get because he knew there was a pretty good chance he’d never have another opportunity like this again.
“Um.” Malcolm couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “You can… on my face though. If you want to.”
He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
“You don’t have to— I thought you— It’s okay if?—”
Bull pressed his thumb against his lips, silencing the tumble of words. “I want that. More than you can possibly understand.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“I never really got that,” Malcolm said, voice soft and confessional. “The need to come on someone else.”
Bull shrugged. “Some guys just like how it looks, others… like the power trip. For me…” He pictured white streaks on Malcolm’s flushed face and shuddered. “I don’t think I should tell you.”
“Why not?” Malcolm whispered, smirking and giving Bull a couple of quick strokes, nearly taking his brain completely off-line at the easy way he did it. Like it was nothing to casually stroke Bull while they chatted.
“I don’t want to scare you off.”
Eyebrows winging up, Malcolm shook his head. “If sucking you hasn’t…”
That might be true, but since Bull wasn’t really sure why Malcolm was doing it or what he was really getting out of it, he couldn’t say with certainty that some of the more…
depraved things he imagined doing to Malcolm wouldn’t send him running.
His desire to leave something behind on Malcolm’s skin wasn’t so bad, but hearing it might push him over the edge and stop whatever was happening between them.
“I can be really possessive,” Bull said slowly, watching Malcolm carefully. “I like the idea of marking… someone as mine.”
Could Malcolm tell he’d almost said you ? Almost admitted he’d dreamed of leaving come and bruises all over his sexy little body?
Swallowing, Malcolm whispered, “Oh. Okay.”