Chapter Ten
Malik had given up gambling. It hadn’t been easy, and he still struggled at times, but Indy could see the effort his mate was putting into it.
Warm breath hit the side of Indy’s throat just below his jaw, followed by the press of lips. Malik’s mouth was doing something distracting with his pulse point.
“I’m working,” Indy said, attempting to sound stern, but tilted his head to give Malik better access.
Teeth grazed skin, and Indy’s knees wobbled. He reached back with one hand, trying to push Malik away, but his mate caught his wrist and held it, pulling him until Indy’s back was pressed against the solid wall of Malik’s chest.
“The shop is closed,” Malik murmured, his hand sliding around to rest low on Indy’s stomach. Heat radiated through his body.
“That doesn't mean—” Malik’s tongue traced a path from collarbone to jaw, frying Indy’s brain cells. The clipboard clattered to the floor. “Someone could come by. Mrs. Park sometimes—”
Malik pulled him back harder, and Indy felt the unmistakable evidence of his mate’s arousal pressing against him. His own body responded immediately, his own cock hardening.
“Office,” Malik growled, already steering them toward the back room.
Indy stumbled as Malik walked them backward through the doorway. The cramped space smelled like soil and cut stems, familiar scents that mixed with Malik’s wild scent and made Indy’s head swim. His hip bumped the edge of the desk, rattling the empty coffee mugs from that morning.
Indy yelped, then laughed.
Malik grinned. “Need me to kiss your boo-boo?”
“It hurts right here.” Indy smacked his own ass.
Malik grinned. “Drop your pants and I’ll kiss away the pain.”
Turning in Malik’s arms took effort in the tight space, but then Indy was facing him, looking up at his mate’s face.
Malik’s eyes had gone dark, focused on Indy with the singular attention that always made breathing problematic.
Large hands framed Indy’s face, thumbs brushing across cheekbones, and then Malik was kissing him.
The kiss started controlled but quickly became something else.
Malik’s tongue swept into his mouth, claiming and hungry, and Indy grabbed at his mate’s shirt for balance.
The desk edge pressed into the backs of his thighs as Malik crowded him against it, the wood creaking under their combined weight.
Breaking the kiss, Malik moved to Indy’s jaw then lower, teeth and tongue working against sensitive skin.
Each point of contact sent heat pooling in Indy’s stomach, his dick straining against his jeans.
When Malik sucked hard at the junction of shoulder and throat, Indy’s hips jerked forward involuntarily.
“Someone’s going to see that mark,” Indy managed, though his hands were already working at Malik’s belt buckle.
“Good.” The word rumbled against Indy’s skin, possessive and satisfied.
Malik’s hands found the hem of Indy’s shirt, pulling it up and off in one motion. The cooler air hit bare skin, immediately replaced by the heat of Malik’s palms sliding up his ribs. Thumbs brushed across his nipples, and Indy bit his lip to keep from making noise.
“Let me hear you,” Malik said, pinching one nipple between thumb and finger.
The sound that escaped Indy’s mouth was embarrassing, high-pitched and needy. His hands fumbled with Malik’s zipper, managing to get it down before Malik was spinning him around, pressing him forward over the desk. Papers scattered. A pen rolled off the edge and hit the floor.
Indy’s palms flattened against the wood surface, his breathing already ragged. Behind him, he heard Malik’s belt sliding free, the soft sound of fabric. Then hands were at his waistband, efficient and sure, working his jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh.
Cool air hit exposed skin. Indy pressed his forehead to the desk, arousal and vulnerability warring in his gut. The position left him completely exposed, bent over his own desk in his own shop, ass in the air while Malik stood behind him fully clothed except for what mattered.
A drawer opened. The familiar snap of a cap—lube he’d stashed there weeks ago, optimistic and slightly mortified at himself for it. Now gratitude replaced embarrassment as slick fingers traced down, finding him and pressing.
The first finger slid in easily, his body opening for Malik like it remembered, like it had been waiting. Indy pushed back against the intrusion, wanting more immediately. A second finger joined the first, stretching and working him open with practiced skill.
“Malik,” Indy breathed, his dick leaking against the desk edge. “Come on, I need—”
A third finger, crooking just right, and Indy’s words dissolved into a moan. His thighs trembled, muscles tight from the position and the pleasure coursing through him. Each press against his prostate sent sparks up his back, his cock throbbing untouched.
The fingers withdrew. Indy heard more lube being squeezed out then felt the blunt pressure of Malik’s cock pressing against him. The stretch as Malik pushed in was perfect, that edge between too much and exactly right. Indy’s mouth fell open, silent for a moment before a low groan escaped.
Malik didn’t wait. His hands gripped Indy’s hips, holding him in place as he set a rhythm that had the desk creaking with each thrust. The angle was perfect, hitting that spot inside that made Indy see stars.
His own cock rubbed against the desk edge with each movement, the friction not quite enough.
Reaching down to touch himself proved impossible with the angle and Malik’s grip. Indy could only take what his mate gave him, bent over and spread open, making sounds he’d be embarrassed about later. The slap of skin against skin filled the small office, obscene and perfect.
“Touch yourself,” Malik commanded, his voice rough.
Indy’s hand flew to his dick, stroking in time with Malik’s thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building fast and inevitable. His other hand scrambled for purchase on the desk, knocking over the pencil holder.
Malik’s rhythm faltered, becoming harder, faster. One hand left Indy’s hip to press between his shoulder blades, holding him down against the desk. The dominance of it, the weight and control, pushed Indy right to the edge.
“Close,” Indy gasped, his hand moving frantically on his cock. “So close, gonna—”
Malik’s teeth found the back of his shoulder, biting down as he drove in deep. The combination of sensations—teeth and cock and his own hand—sent Indy over. He came with a cry, spilling across his fingers and the desk, his whole body clenching.
His mate followed immediately, hips stuttering as he pressed deep and stayed there, heat flooding inside as Malik groaned against Indy’s shoulder. They stayed frozen for a moment, both breathing hard, the office air thick with sex and sweat.
Slowly, carefully, Malik pulled out. Indy stayed bent over the desk, his legs unsteady, feeling thoroughly used in the best way. Tissues appeared, Malik cleaning them both before pulling Indy upright and turning him around.
The kiss was softer now, languid and satisfied. Indy melted into it, his hands finding Malik’s shoulders for balance. When they finally separated, Malik’s expression had shifted to something tender, his thumb brushing across Indy’s swollen lips.
“You have inventory to finish,” Malik said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
Indy looked at the desk—papers scattered, pencils everywhere, suspicious stains that would need immediate attention. His clipboard was still on the floor by the cooler where he’d dropped it. The shop smelled like sex now, unmistakable and slightly mortifying.
“You’re helping me clean up,” Indy said, pulling his underwear and jeans back up with as much composure as he could manage. “And you’re buying me dinner after. A good dinner. The kind where they have actual napkins.”
Malik’s laugh was low and warm, filling the small space. He reached for the paper towels, already moving to help restore order to the chaos they’d created. Outside, the late afternoon sun slanted through the shop windows, painting everything golden. The street was quiet, peaceful.
Normal, except for the pleasant ache that would remind Indy for hours exactly what had happened in his cramped office. He grabbed the cleaning spray from under the desk, actively not meeting Malik’s amused gaze.
“Stop looking smug,” he muttered, though his own mouth was fighting a smile.
“I’m not looking at anything.” Malik was clearly looking.
The normalcy of it—the teasing, the casual intimacy, the lack of danger lurking—felt precious.
A month of quiet was nice after so much chaos.
Their life together had an easy rhythm now, comfortable in ways he’d never imagined.
It hadn’t been a perfect start, or even a perfect in between, but Indy loved his mate beyond measure, thankful for the rain that had sent his mate running to his shop.
THE END