8. Chapter 8
Henrik
I ’m wearing a hole through the hardwood floors when the elevator whooshes open. Finally .
I know I’m being irrational, but Mal has been gone for hours.
And ever since I listened to him leave from the confines of my cracked bedroom door like a creepy fucking stalker, I’ve been on edge.
I wanted him back here, and that’s not like me.
I’ve never had a problem with my companions coming and going as they please.
Maybe I’m still reeling after Mal’s confession about the bruises around his neck. Maybe I’m worried he’ll be taken advantage of again.
Maybe whatever instincts I’ve been warring with that have been pulling me toward this man have finally stretched taut.
Tight enough to snap.
Mal comes padding softly into the penthouse, stopping, I presume, when he catches sight of me at the opening to the hallway.
“Henrik?”
I stride forward, halting a few paces shy of where Mal should be because I don’t want to actually bowl into the man. He seems to read my intent, however, and closes the distance between us. As soon as he touches my arm, I inhale a sharp breath.
That was a mistake.
Trailing my hand up Mal’s arm to orient myself, I grip the back of his neck and tug him in close. Mal gasps as I lean forward and run my nose along the side of his head. He smells like sweat and a dizzying array of different colognes, barely a trace of his coconut scent remaining.
My spine stiffens as I retract my head.
“Why do you smell like other men?” I ask tersely.
“I was dancing,” Mal says tentatively, his breath fanning along my collarbone in short bursts.
“Just dancing?” I ask, the words slipping out past gritted teeth. Fuck , I need to get control of myself.
Mal gasps again. “I…”
When Mal doesn’t go on, I run my hands up into his hair, curling my fingers around the soft strands. I lean in close, lips above his ear. “Tell me, Mal. Did you break my rules?”
His chest heaves against me, but Mal doesn’t move an inch. “No. Of course not,” he says breathlessly.
I hum at that, this ridiculous territorial side of me mollified by his admission.
It’s not like I should care about Mal going out to a club.
I never cared about Denny hanging out with his friends.
But the fact that Mal smells like a hundred different guys, not his usual coconut scent, and not me , has me grinding my molars together so hard it’s making my jaw ache.
“I didn’t do anything except dance,” he adds, seeming to take my silence as disbelief. “I wouldn’t. I don’t want them anyways.”
“And what do you want?” I ask, nuzzling into his soft hair as my hand travels down Mal’s body, landing on his hip.
I can’t decide if I’m trying to pull him closer or getting ready to push him away.
I feel way too unhinged right now. I wouldn’t hurt Mal; I was deadly serious about that.
But the way I’m feeling right this instant is so far out of my controlled little box I can’t even find the walls.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Mal asks quietly as he presses forward, his erect cock grinding against the inside of my hip.
My breath catches. “Say it.”
“I want you .”
A groan rips from my throat, and my fingers spasm against Mal’s body.
I wasn’t lying when I told Mal I’d be able to tell if he wasn’t being truthful with me.
I’ve always been adept at sensing that sort of thing, even before I went blind.
It’s a skill that has helped me in business and in life.
I don’t need to see to detect the minute shifts someone makes with their body when they lie, or hear how their breathing changes.
And Mal isn’t lying. I might not be his first choice in the grand scheme of things. He didn’t pick me, after all. But right now, in this moment, he wants me, and that’s all I need.
I tuck my face against the smooth column of his neck and breathe deeply. Once again, I’m disappointed by the unfamiliar scent of him. “ Fuck .”
Mal’s pulse thunders under my lips, but he leans more of his weight forward, pressing his erection against my hip shamelessly.
With a near growl, I pull back.
“Come on,” I say, finding Mal’s hand and tugging. My other hand skims the wall as I lead us toward my bedroom. “There isn’t enough room for this in the hallway.”
Mal’s breath hitches, but he follows me without complaint, his palm tucked against my own.
“Is there anything you don’t like? Any limits you have?” I ask on our way toward the bed.
“Not really,” he replies.
“No?” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re giving me carte blanche?”
“It’s what you paid for.”
I hum, letting Mal go once we bump into the bed. He scrambles upwards as I work on the buttons of my shirt.
“Can I see you?” he asks.
I huff. Right.
Backtracking, I flick the lights on. The shadows that make up the remainder of my vision become marginally brighter, like the sun rising behind a heavy cover of clouds. But it’s all still gray.
Mal’s breathing stutters as I pace back to the bed, shirt open now.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You…you look hungry.”
Hungry? Possessed is more like it. At least, that’s how I feel with the near-compulsory urge I have to claim this man, even temporarily.
I imagine what Mal looks like right now, spread atop my bed, his long limbs draped gracefully across the duvet. His head is probably thrown back against my pillow, long blonde hair spiraling around him like a halo.
I need my hands on him. Mouth, too.
I drop my pants with no finesse whatsoever, leaving them puddled on the floor as I stretch forward, checking Mal’s position before I hike myself onto the bed.
“ Jesus ,” he says softly.
“What?”
A leg, that’s where I am. I roam upwards until I find Mal’s waistband. I flick the button, pull down the zipper.
“You’re…”
“What, Mal?” I ask again, tugging his pants free. Goddamn it, I need him naked now .
He pants, squirming a little. “You’re really fucking sexy, Henrik.”
I pause, pleased beyond measure at the sincerity in his tone.
“Lean up,” I say, pulling Mal’s shirt up his torso. He does, allowing me to divest him of the last of his clothing, underwear withstanding.
I run my hands over his skin as I straddle his body, not actually putting too much of my weight on him because I know I’m a bit stockier than he is. But I need the closeness. Knowing he’s between my legs, under my body, soothes the restless beast inside.
Mal’s hands drag up my thighs, his touch soft and warm. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he says softly.
“Mm.” I slip lower, and Mal’s clothed erection presses against my stomach as I bring my lips to his sternum, kissing the smooth skin there. “I haven’t decided yet.”
And that’s the problem. I want Mal every which way.
I want to fuck him into this mattress. Into the couch.
Against the kitchen island. I want my dick in his mouth.
I want his dick in my mouth. I want my tongue buried so far up his body that he’s out of his mind with pleasure, forgetting all those boys he was dancing with.
I want him to desire only my hands on his body.
I want him to come to me when he’s hot and horny.
I want him to know that, for now, he’s mine. And I want him to goddamn smell like it.
I pull back and flip Mal onto his stomach. He lets out a soft yip of surprise that turns into a mewl when I drag my hands up his back, not stopping until I’m draped over him with my lips at the back of his ear and my cock nestled against his ass.
I brush his hair back. “You drive me goddamn wild, you know that?”
Mal lets out a strangled laugh. “No, I didn’t. Not until I came home and you all but pissed on me.”
I growl against the shell of his ear, nipping the lobe lightly before dropping my mouth lower to suck a kiss against the sensitive skin of his neck. Mal squirms under the pressure, his ass rubbing against my crotch.
I like the idea of marking him.
“I don’t want them touching you,” I grit out once I’ve released his flesh. Mal pants as I drag my lips lower, sucking small kisses against the side of his neck.
“I get it now,” he breathes out. “The exclusivity thing. You’re a territorial motherfucker.”
I huff, trailing my hands over Mal’s body, getting a better feel for his shape, trying to find the spots that make him squirm. “That a problem?”
It sounds as if Mal turns his head, presumably following my descent down his body. He has dimples on either side of his spine, right above the waistband of his briefs. I press my fingers into the grooves before snagging Mal’s underwear and dragging them down.
“No. Not a problem,” he says, voice a little strained. “Unless you actually piss on me.”
I raise a brow, shucking his briefs away to deal with later. “I thought you said you didn’t have limits.”
Mal laughs. “You know, contrary to what everyone thinks, I’m not into watersports.” His voice breaks into a whine when I drag my stubbled lips along the smooth expanse of his ass cheeks.
“Common misconception, is it?” I mumble, preoccupied by the firm globes under my fingers. Fuck , he has a nice ass. A definite weakness of mine.
Mal huffs another laugh. “You could say that.”
I’m barely following the conversation as is—all of the blood in my body concentrated in my dick and my hands otherwise occupied with Mal’s generous behind—but when I bury my face between his cheeks, all remaining rational thought flees my brain.
His smell is strong here, heady, and it’s all him, undiluted by the asshats from the club.
I breathe it in, humming low in my throat before I lick a broad stripe across his asshole.
Mal jumps, a noise of surprise leaving his lips before he presses back against my face, meeting me eagerly. I span my hands across his hips, feeling the quiver in his body as I hold him still enough to take what I want. And what I want is for Mal’s sole focus to be on me. I need it.
I run circles around his rim with my tongue, loosening him, listening to his whimpers and exhalations as my hands roam whatever skin I can reach, avoiding his cock for now. Mal rides back on my face, and when my tongue slips within the heat of his body, he groans out, body arching.
“Jesus, Henrik. Most guys don’t bother with the detour before they fuck me,” he says, voice half breath.
I make a sound of displeasure at that. I don’t like the idea of Mal never being savored. I especially don’t like the idea of other men fucking him, period.
“You’re not a one-and-done, Mal. I’m damn well going to enjoy you whenever I please,” I grumble before spearing my tongue back inside his body.
“Yeah, okay. Mhm,” he says, squirming.
“Grab the lube,” I tell him, pulling back. “Nightstand drawer.”
Mal twists away from me for a moment, and when he comes back, he slaps the bottle down near my hand.
I flick it open, leaning forward to give Mal one more long lick before I coat my fingers and slide two inside his body.
He moans happily, shifting so his ass is high in the air.
I pump my fingers as my other hand roams downwards, cupping Mal’s smooth balls and tugging gently.
“You did say you were bare,” I comment, remembering Mal’s rambling during our interview of sorts.
“For work,” he replies, pressing back to take my fingers further into his body. I add a third.
I idly wonder if Genevieve requires it, or if it’s simply a preference of the clients Mal sees. Saw .
“You don’t have to do that here. If you don’t want to,” I tell him, twisting my fingers around, spreading them.
Mal doesn’t answer me, but he does whimper.
“Something you want to say?” I ask, sliding my hand up the velvety surface of his cock and finding a healthy dose of precum slicking his crown. I rub it over the surface before dragging my palm back down, pumping him lightly.
He blows out a breath. “Just wondering when you’re going to fuck me.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask, twisting my fingers further, finding Mal’s prostate and pressing firmly as his dick jumps in my grip.
He whines. “You are a tease.”
His goading makes me grin, and Mal’s breath catches somewhere underneath me. I remove my fingers and give Mal’s thigh a little slap.
“Turn over,” I tell him. “And grab a condom.”
Mal scampers away from my hands, grabbing a wrapper from the drawer and slapping it into my open palm. He lies on his back, sliding down the duvet until his legs drape over my shoulders.
I raise an eyebrow as I roll the condom down my dick. Cheeky fucker.
“You’re smiling,” he notes.
“Just thinking about where I’m going to be buried in ten seconds,” I tell him flatly.
Mal chuckles, allowing me to bend his legs forward as I scoot into position.
And I want to tell him to stop being such a smartass, except I kind of like it.
There’s something inherently charming about this man, and as much as his presence coils something in me tightly, like a snake ready to strike, now that he’s within my grasp, I feel settled.
That angry edge I had before is long gone, leaving only a strong and steady desire for this man.
“Hen.”
“Hmm?” I ask, notching myself against his entrance.
“Will you fuck me already?”
I can feel my grin overtaking my face, stretching my cheeks tight as I shake my head. “My pleasure,” I say, surging forward.