20. Mal
I don’t know who shuts the door. Just that the sound of it flips a switch and we collide with more force than we ever have.
He’s on me.
Or I’m on him.
Doesn’t matter. Never has. We crash together with that need to hurt, because we want it—we chose it—and there’s nothing gentle or sweet in how we unravel.
Skylar tastes like blood and broken things. His teeth scrape my bottom lip and he shoves me against the door.
My back hits wood, and I grin, because fuck , I like it. Chasing freefall has always suited me, but this is the most alive I’ve felt since I woke up in Germany with a broken heart.
Pain.
Pleasure.
I find a thrill in how tightly entwined they are, and I see the same silent intensity in Skylar, eyes dark, lips caught in a faint snarl.
We kiss again, hips grinding together, no resistance, no holding back, and yet still I want more . I want him , and the weight of him pressing me against the door is so fucking good a raw moan escapes me.
Skylar answers with a rough exhale. He bites my neck, and I thread my fingers into his shower-damp hair, twisting just enough to gauge if he’s craving a hit of pain too.
I feel his response in my own dick, that surge. The guttural shock of attraction so strong it feels like a dare.
We’re both wearing sweatpants and nothing else. His fit him. Mine are Jack’s and so low on my hips I feel the fucking breeze. I feel him as he presses harder, wrenching his mouth free of mine to give me a slow burning up and down.
I return the gesture, and the madness that’s taken hold of us allows me not to think about the absence of an ounce of spare flesh on his efficient frame. Instead I trace his inked skin with only want on my mind, and I let my hands wander to his waistband. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
Aye, that’s right. That single item needs to go .
“Take them off me then.”
Fuck. We’re really doing this. The gravity of it pokes at my common sense, but desire overrides my cognitive function and I ease his sweats down just enough to free his dick.
Hardness fills my fist, long and thick.
Hot.
I wrap my fingers around him and squeeze with a bare twist of friction, and I get my reward in another sharp breath. Another inhale that seems to get stuck.
Need to fix that.
I don’t want him throttling his own pleasure. I want him to let go, and if I give him nothing else before I leave Porth Luck, I want to give him that.
I need to.
My free hand finds its way to Skylar’s throat, where it’s been before. I squeeze his dick again, and his gaze darts to where I’m holding him, watching my hand shift and flex, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
I apply more faint pressure to his neck, tracking his reaction. The way his breathing heavies as I bring my mouth to his. “You like that?”
Skylar laughs, harsh and short. “Of course I fucking like it.”
Good to know. I do it again, fascinated by every snatched inhale, smothering the coolness that seems to plague him when he’s not lying in the sunshine beside me or going hell for leather in the gym.
I grasp his throat harder and kiss him again, deepening it, stealing the breath from his lungs for as long as he lets me, before he surges back stronger and his hands slide lower, making tracks down my overheated skin.
My breath is already laboured, but with Skylar’s touch gaining purpose, urgency steals over me. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I already fucking love it. I’m already arching into his grip as he frees my cock and bands his fingers around it.
It’s my turn to stare down and watch him work his magic. Watch him push my hand aside and take us both in his.
We look good together.
My pulse quickens, thumping in my ears in a way that has fucking frightened me recently. But as I shiver to the slow rhythm he sets, my body flexing in time with his, real life and all that comes with it is a long way from my mind.
I groan into his mouth.
He bites me again, his hand moving faster, and fuck, he’s good at this, but I’m not surprised. I don’t know what other people see when they look at Skylar, but I’ve seen pure sex in him from day one.
It starts to get messy. I could come like this, but I don’t want to. Not yet. I tug his hair again and use his momentary distraction to spin us.
I lose the magic of his hand gripping my dick, but I can live with that. I shove him against the door, revelling in his spiked reaction.
Fight me, I’ll let you win.
Unless he kills me first.
I work my mouth along his jaw, finding a spot on his neck that has him tipping his head to give me better access, another rough breath escaping him.
He likes that.
I file it away for later. Dig my teeth in a little harder. Then my hand returns to his throat. Briefly. “Fuck my mouth.”
Skyler smirks. “Really? You’re gonna get on your knees?”
“You think I won’t?”
“I think a lot of things about you.”
By his tone, I can tell they’re not all good, but I can live with that. It’s fair. He’s probably not wrong. But he’s fucking misguided if he believes I give a single shit about sinking to my knees in front of him.
I do it, and the complexity of our connection crackles, buzzing in my ears, searing the skin where we touch.
It’s hard to break his gaze.
So I don’t. I hold it as I take him into my mouth, surrendering to the sweet burn in my thighs and the stretch in my lips as I swallow him down.
He’s heavy on my tongue and I love it. I love his hands in my hair as his blistering stare intensifies, anchoring me with enough sharp pain a light comes on inside me.
My jaw works and my vision blurs. Throat open to him, I take everything he has, and the unguarded sound he makes is a wild rush I never want to outrun.
I push him harder, chasing his edge, searching for it. His breathing labours and his head tips back to thud against the door behind him.
A dull noise. I barely hear it. His suppressed moan is louder to me, but still I want more.
I scrape my teeth on his dick, testing him. He’s stoic as fuck, but I feel the restraint simmering in every part of him I can reach. His thighs, his hands in my hair. Against the palm of the hand I snake up to splay across his taut abdomen.
“Fuck.” His voice cracks, reverent and dark. “ Fuck .”
Skylar’s pelvis bucks a little and he tugs my hair, pulling me off him. His stare burns , like it always has. But something else simmers there, and I grasp his thigh, digging my fingers in.
“What is it?”
Skylar shakes his head, tapping my lips with the swollen head of his dick. “I fuck people and throw them away.”
He says it like he wants to scare me. Like I’m on my knees with a diamond ring instead of dizzy from him filling my throat. Like I’m not exactly the fucking same as the heartless bastard he thinks he’s describing.
“Aye, well.” I rise, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I fuck people and leave.”
I brace an elbow on the door, over his head. I don’t kiss him again, but fuck I want to. I want everything, but I can’t tell from his tight jaw and depthless gaze if he wants it too.
So I wait. Counting my own pulse, and the one I see thrumming in his neck. I wait forever and a day before his voice finally cuts the air.
“Go on then, Mal. Fuck me .”