12. Malcolm #2
That reset feeling? It’s also the feeling of a moment passing, and I want to hit rewind and start over. I fucked this up. I made it weird and unsexy, and now he’s barely touching me. Probably second-guessing everything when he did everything right and then some.
He stretches out on his side, facing me and rests his head on his arm. I stare back at him, afraid to say anything else.
He looks good, though. Really good. Warm and big, and I want him back. Back in my arms. Back in my life . “Are you pissed at me?” I ask.
“No,” he says on a heavy sigh.
“Can I kiss you?”
His eyes widen slightly. “Kiss me where?”
I focus in on and touch his bottom lip.
“Don’t do me any favors, Mal. I don’t need a pity peck.”
“What about like…a gratitude grope.”
His lips twitch out of their sour pout for a split second. “Don’t grope me. I don’t want to come in these pants. ”
“What’s so great about these pants?” I ask, then register what he’s saying. “Wait, are you close?”
“I was …”
In whatever way I can, I scoot closer. It involves rolling onto my side and slinging my leg over his hip, but I make it. “Pity peck it is,” I say, planting my lips on his and making a loud smooching sound before I draw back a few inches.
“You can show yourself and your dog out now,” he says.
“I want a good night hug.”
He rolls his eyes. “I knew you were gonna say that. You know, I don’t think you grew up much at all.”
I grin, sensing he’s going to give me what I asked for…
again. I like this side of him. This indulgent side.
It’s grudging, but still. The way he acts like he hates it makes it sexier.
I put my hand on his waist, and he drops one of his to hold the back of my arm. “Seriously,” I say. “How’re you doing?”
He breaks eye contact. “I’m fine.”
“Can I come back again sometime?”
He shrugs.
I think I understand what’s happening. I kissed his neck, but he sucked my cock. It’s the whole I was hugging him and he said he loved me all over again. He thinks he got ahead of himself—that he showed his hand. He’s embarrassed. I can’t have that. Not again. This isn’t like last time.
“Hey. Look at me.” I give him a shake, my hand moving from his waist to his hip.
With the way he’s stretched out, my thumb grazes a slip of exposed skin, and I feel a ridge of oblique muscle that makes my heart thump harder.
Jesus, he gets hotter by the second. I knew sexuality was a spectrum, but I didn’t expect it to be a journey .
This feels like being on a fast-moving train headed straight for the guy with the sword tattoo.
“Are you good? Because I’m great. I promise. ”
He hugs me, and it comes on quick. One second, I’m staring at him not staring at me, and the next, we’re in full frontal contact again.
He holds me tight. I feel all his muscles clenching.
I feel his rock hard cock jamming my abs, his hair covering my face.
And then, there are his eyes again, a gentle touch lighting up my cheekbone, and his mouth on mine.
It’s barely a kiss, but I’m absolutely counting it.
My lower lip is slotted in the crease between his, and he lingers there, like he’s letting me get used to it.
I nip at him, a little like I did at his neck earlier, but with less lip.
Less mess. His mouth caresses mine, closed and soft.
We kiss like that repeatedly, and it should get old, but really doesn’t.
I love it. I love it so much, I never want to stop.
But then it gets a little wetter. He’s barely opening his mouth, but it makes a huge difference, and I love this way fucking more. I let my lips part and actually kiss his mouth like I was kissing his neck. “Mal,” he whispers with an urgency I’m not feeling, but makes my dick react.
“Don’t stop, please.”
“Fuck. Mal …” He opens my mouth with his and sweeps his tongue across the surface of mine.
I grip the waistband of his jeans and hang on because my body responds to this kiss like someone just turned on my ignition. I roar to life, taking every inch of space between us and my own taste of his tongue.
I get what the urgency was about now. He was warning me.
He was trying to let me know he was about to take me the fuck apart.
Maybe he thought I wouldn’t let him? But if there’s a line I was thinking about crossing earlier, I am fucking leaping over it now.
I give him whatever he wants, opening for him, tousling with him, leaning in when he sucks me closer.
His teeth get involved, tugging at my lower lip and making me hurt for him.
Our bodies rub and rock together as the kiss goes from dirty to fucking filthy .
There are strands of saliva, tongues in mid-air, pornographic grunts and a full takedown of the mask I’ve always worn while I clutch at him, begging without words for more and everything .
He breaks back on a harsh breath, his cock hard against my own, and his body shakes—almost like it did when he was laughing earlier, but the sound he makes isn’t anything like a laugh.
He’s coming. He’s fucking coming , and I am elated. High off the fact that my gratitude grope was a huge success, but still sorry about the pants he didn’t want to mess up.
He doesn’t seem to care, though. He’s already kissing me again, and I’m right back in it. I am not going to make this weird. This has to happen again. Soon. Honestly, I don’t see any reason for it to stop.
He’s slowing down, though. His grip on me is loosening. I get it, I do. I got my hug and then some, but he’s gotta be second-guessing everything. I flipped our life script on him tonight, and while it might make perfect sense to me, I haven’t exactly given him a thorough explanation.
When he pulls away, I lean in and give him one final kiss. “That was like…the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I tell him.
He groans, putting his hand over his eyes. “Shut up, Mal.”
“Seriously,” I say.
He shakes his head, refusing to accept the praise or the compliment or whatever this is bursting from my chest that needs to be acknowledged. He needs space.
“I’m going,” I tell him. “I promise.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“No, I’ll show myself out and let you change your pants in peace.”
He nearly smiles.
“And I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say. “At work. ”
He nods without taking his hand off his face.
“I might record some content after I take a shower,” I tell him.
“Make sure Stephanie looks wet, too.”
I laugh because that’s a funny idea. She looks ridiculously tiny when she’s had a bath.
“You should do one, too…after I post mine.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
He finally takes his hand off his face and looks at his watch. “Feels later.”
“No makeup, okay? You look good like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like you just kissed someone till you came.”
He shoves me in the chest. “Go.”
I zip up my shorts and struggle my way off the beanbag chair. I hate my life slightly more the second I’m not touching him, knowing what I’m going home to, which isn’t much.
“Come on, lady.” I scoop Stephanie off the floor and kiss the top of her head. She’s been very patient with me tonight. Suffering silently while I let someone else get up in my space.
I look down at Ryan, sprawled out and disheveled. Thirst trap? Fact check: true.
It’s not until I’m halfway home that I remember he used to be my stepbrother, and I’m not supposed to be gay , and that shouldn’t have happened .
What in the actual fuck is happening to me?