32. Connor
Chapter 32
Connor
Malachi doesn’t realize what he’s just done to me. The second that “Yes, sir” fell out of his mouth, unfiltered and perfect, it was like setting a match to gasoline. My obsession with him—the way he fights, the way he sasses, the way he burns so fucking brightly—it’s always been bad.
But now? Now, it’s worse.
I tighten my grip on his waist, dragging him forward until he’s straddling my lap. His towel is gone, leaving him bare and vulnerable, and fuck, he’s so hard it’s almost painful to look at. Thin, curved and cut, his cock is just begging for my mouth.
My hands slide up his thighs, deliberately avoiding the place I know he wants me to touch. “You’re a fucking brat, but tonight, you’re my good boy, and you’re gonna get rewarded for it.”
His breath catches and his hands come up to grip my shoulders, but he doesn’t pull away. I can feel the tension rolling off him, the way his body trembles under my touch, and it only makes me want to push him further.
“You’ve been good, haven’t you?” I ask, my lips brushing against his skin as my hands slide higher, skimming over his ribs.
He glares at me again, but his hips shift instinctively, pressing closer. “Don’t start,” he snaps, though his voice cracks slightly.
I smirk, dragging my nails lightly down his sides just to hear the way his breath stutters. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little praise?”
“Fuck off,” he growls, his tone warning, but it only makes me laugh.
“Relax,” I murmur, leaning back slightly so I can look up at him. “I’m just going to make you feel good. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
His jaw tightens, his pride warring with his desire, but I can see it in his eyes—he wants this. He just doesn’t know how to admit it yet. I slide a hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his cock, and his breath hitches, his nails digging into my shoulders. Then I lean forward to spit on his pretty dick and stroke it.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his head tipping back as I stroke him slowly.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice low as I watch him come undone in my lap. “Let me take care of you, pet.”
His hips buck into my hand, his breath coming in shallow gasps, but he doesn’t fight me. If anything, he’s leaning into it, his body betraying him even as his pride tries to hold on.
“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” I tell him again, my thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smearing the precum that’s already gathered there. “So responsive. So desperate. Look at you, already fallin’ apart for me.”
“Shut up,” he snaps, his voice shaky, but there’s no real bite to it.
I grin, leaning forward to press a kiss to his chest, my free hand sliding up to grip his waist, keeping him steady. “Why? Because you know I’m right?”
He doesn’t respond, his nails digging into my shoulders as I pick up the pace, stroking him with deliberate precision, knowing exactly how to push him closer to the edge without letting him fall.
“You want to come, don’t you?” I tease, my lips brushing against his skin as I tighten my grip on his cock, stroking faster now. “You’re already so close. I can feel it.”
His breath catches, his head tipping forward as he glares at me through half-lidded eyes. “Connor—”
“Say it,” I interrupt, my tone coaxing. “Say you want it. Say you want to come for me.”
He hesitates, his pride clinging on by a thread, but then I twist my wrist just right, and he breaks.
“Please,” he whines, his voice barely audible, but it’s enough to make my blood run hotter. “Please, I want it. I need it, Connor. Please make me come.”
His hips buck against my hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fights to hold on, but I can feel how close he is. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, and all it takes is one more push.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” I growl, my hand working him faster now, relentless as I coax him closer and closer to the edge. “Give me my prize, baby. Make a mess of me.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before he breaks, his body tensing as his release spills over my hand and splatters onto my chest. He moans my name, the sound raw and desperate, and I fucking live for it.
“God,” he breathes, his voice wrecked as he collapses against me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
I stroke him through it, milking every last drop as I press soft kisses to his neck, his jaw, his temple. “That’s it,” I praise, my voice rough but soft. “That’s my good boy.”
He groans, burying his face in my shoulder, and I smirk, licking his release from my fingers as he tries to catch his breath. When he finally pulls back, his cheeks are flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and he looks so fucking wrecked and beautiful that it almost hurts.
“Thank you,” he mutters, his voice quiet but sincere, and the words hit me like a fucking sledgehammer.
This fucking brat just thanked me.
A slow grin spreads across my face, and I tighten my grip on his hips, my thumbs brushing over the curve of his waist.
“Oh, Malachi,” I murmur, my voice low as I grip his chin, forcing him to look at me. “You’re a natural fuckin’ submissive, aren’t you?”
His cheeks flush as he glares at me. “I’m not—”
“Don’t even try to deny it,” I interrupt, my smirk widening as I lean in, my breath warm against his ear. “You just thanked me for makin’ you come. That’s not something a brat does. That’s somethin’ a good boy does.”
He scowls, his hands pushing weakly at my chest, but I don’t let him go. I keep him right where he is, straddling my lap, his body pressed against mine.
I chuckle, my grip on his chin tightening as I lean in, my lips brushing against his ear. “I’m gonna have so much fun makin’ you realize it,” I whisper, my tone dripping with promise. “I’m going to break you in the best fuckin’ way.”
He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to. I can see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at me like he’s already halfway there. And fuck, I can’t wait to take him the rest of the way.
I smirk as he continues to glare at me, his breathing still uneven, his cheeks flushed from everything I’ve just done to him. The sass in his eyes hasn’t dimmed, even though he’s slumped in my lap, bare and spent. That little defiance of his only makes me want him more.
“You look pissed,” I tease, dragging my thumb over his swollen bottom lip. “What’s wrong, Babyface? Can’t handle being called out?”
“Fuck you,” he snaps, though the bite in his voice is weak. His glare, however, is sharp as ever.
I laugh, my fingers tightening on his waist. “Not yet, but don’t worry. We’ll get there.”
“Keep dreamin’,” he mutters, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—uncertainty, maybe even curiosity.
I tilt my head, studying him for a moment before my grin widens. “Alright, Malachi. Since you were so good for me, I think you deserve a prize.”
His eyes narrow, his body tensing slightly, but he doesn’t respond.
“Get on your knees,” I command. “Right here, in front of me.”
His jaw clenches, and for a second, I think he might argue, but then he moves, sliding off my lap with a huff. He kneels between my legs, his back straight and his eyes blazing with defiance as he looks up at me.
Fuck, I love his fire.
“Happy now?” he snaps, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Gettin’ there,” I reply, leaning forward to grip his chin, forcing him to hold my gaze. “But if you’re going to glare at me like that, I might have to do somethin’ about it.”
Malachi’s glare is sharp enough to cut glass, but the way he kneels there, defiant yet obedient, makes me grin like the smug bastard I am. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to me just by being like this—so full of fire but still following my lead. It’s fucking perfect.
I lean back slightly, spreading my legs wider, and his gaze flickers downward for just a second before snapping back up to meet mine. His cheeks are flushed, but his scowl doesn’t falter.
Without breaking eye contact, I slide a hand down, pushing my sweatpants lower until my cock is free, hard and aching, and Malachi’s reaction is immediate. His eyes widen, flicking down to my thick length, and the sharp inhale he takes makes my grin stretch even wider.
“Speechless?” I ask, my tone dripping with amusement as I stroke my cock. “That’s a first.”
Malachi’s jaw tightens, and he tears his eyes away, glaring at the floor like it’ll save him from what’s happening.
“No, no,” I say, and grab his chin, forcing his gaze back to me. “Eyes on me. You don’t get to look away.”
His gaze flickers between my face and my cock, his lips pressing into a thin line like he’s trying to keep himself in check, but the way his breath quickens gives him away.
I grip myself, stroking slowly, my gaze locked on his as I let out a low groan. “You see this? This is what you fuckin’ do to me, Malachi.”
His breath catches, his lips parting slightly as his eyes track my movements, and fuck, the way he’s watching me is almost enough to push me over the edge right then and there.
I smirk, dragging my thumb over the head of my cock and I groan again, louder this time. I meet his gaze, watching the way his eyes flicker between my face and my hand. His defiance is crumbling, piece by piece, and it’s intoxicating to watch.
“Be a good boy and spit on it,” I murmur, tightening my grip on my cock. His eyes widen with shock, but that fire is still there, burning hot beneath the surface.
His jaw tenses like he wants to tell me to fuck off, but I see it—the hesitation, the way his gaze flickers to my cock, the way his breathing stutters.
“What’s the matter, Babyface?” I taunt, stroking myself slowly, making sure he sees every slick, needy movement. “Too scared?”
His hands curl into fists against his thighs. “I’m not fucking scared.”
“Prove it,” I challenge, my thumb swiping over his bottom lip. “Come on, baby. Spit.”
Malachi’s jaw flexes, his nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t move. His chest rises and falls in quick, uneven breaths, and I can see the war going on inside his head.
But he still doesn’t do it.
I smirk, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh as I slow my strokes. “Well, that’s a shame,” I say, shaking my head. “Guess I’ll have to call one of my ex-subs. Need someone to take the edge off, since you won’t.”
His head snaps up so fast that I almost laugh. His blue eyes blaze, his lips parting like he can’t believe I just said that.
“No one else is allowed to touch you.” His voice is dripping with venom, and his fists are clenched in his lap like he’s trying to hold himself back. Fuck me, the way he’s just claimed me makes me want to shove him to the floor and take him.
I raise a brow, tilting my head as I stroke myself lazily, watching him unravel. “Yeah? And why not?”
His jaw tightens, and then, with a glare so fierce it could burn me alive, he spits and it lands perfectly—right on the head of my cock, slick and warm, and fuck, if that doesn’t make me groan.
I grin, stroking the spit down, spreading it slowly as I watch him through lidded eyes. “Good fuckin’ boy,” I murmur. “Knew you had it in you.”
Malachi still glares at me, but his breath is coming quicker now, his thighs pressed tight together like he’s trying to fight whatever this is between us.
I lean in, my hand still working myself slow and steady, and grip his chin again, forcing him to hold my gaze. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you’re pissed off,” I murmur. “But you know what would look even prettier?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, his pupils blown wide. I smirk, dragging my cock against his lips, smearing the spit there. “You. With my cock in your mouth.”
Malachi’s breathing is uneven, his cheeks flushed, but he keeps his glare locked on me, waiting for my next move.
I stroke myself again, spreading the slickness of his spit, letting out a deep, satisfied groan. “You watchin’, baby?” I groan, my voice low and taunting. “You see how fuckin’ hard you make me?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, his pupils blown wide. I drag my free hand into his messy red hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch.
“You want it, don’t you?” I push, stroking myself again, slow and teasing. “Bet you’re gettin’ hard again just kneelin’ there, watchin’ me.”
His breath shudders, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t deny it. His lips press together, his glare burning, but I see the way he shifts slightly like he’s trying to find some relief without me noticing.
I yank his head back just a little, forcing him to look up at me properly. “You think I don’t see you squirmin’? Such a desperate little thing.”
His breath is shaky now, his body tense beneath my touch, and fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything prettier than Malachi like this—on his knees, cheeks flushed, caught between stubbornness and submission.
I smirk, stroking myself faster now, letting my grip in his hair tighten as I hold him there. “If you’re gonna be down there lookin’ so fuckin’ pretty,” I rasp, my voice rough and teasing, “you might as well put that mouth to better use.”
His cheeks flush deeper, and when I feel myself getting close, I let out a sharp breath, my hand tightening around myself as I lock eyes with him.
“Open your mouth,” I command.
His eyes widen, his lips parting slightly as if on instinct before he snaps them shut again, glaring at me. “Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I’m fuckin’ joking?” I growl, fisting my cock harder, my chest heaving as I edge closer to release.
His gaze flickers down, his breathing uneven, and after a long beat, his lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them.
“That’s it,” I rasp, my voice thick with satisfaction as the pleasure rips through me, my release spilling into his mouth, streaking across his lips and freckled cheeks.
The sight is fucking filthy—his pretty mouth wrecked, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he takes everything I give him.
He flinches slightly but doesn’t pull away, his tongue darting out to catch the remnants, swallowing like it’s nothing. I groan, the sound ripped from somewhere deep, somewhere primal, my chest heaving as heat surges through me.
Then, the little shit flicks his tongue out again, swiping at the corner of his mouth like he’s savoring it, like he fucking enjoys being covered in me.
My vision blurs with lust, my blood burning in my veins. But he’s not done.
To my fucking shock, he leans toward my chest and his tongue flicks out, cleaning me up, slow and thorough, like he’s savoring the taste of me. I curse under my breath, my hands instinctively threading through his hair, my fingers gripping tight as I try to process what the fuck he’s doing to me.
“Malachi,” I growl.
He hums, looking up at me with those goddamn blue eyes, full of mischief and my vision goes hazy, but I force myself to look down—to watch as he licks me clean, his lips brushing against every inch he’s claimed.
Then he takes my hand, his blue eyes still locked on mine as he pulls my fingers into his mouth one by one, sucking, licking the mess I made, his tongue tracing between them like he’s making a goddamn point.
I can’t fucking breathe.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, my body twitching as he wraps a hand around my cock and gives it the same treatment, his tongue working over every inch of my length while his eyes stay locked on me still.
It’s fucking obscene.
It’s fucking mesmerizing.
I groan, my head tipping back, my entire body locking up at the way he’s fucking worshipping me.
I thought I had control. I thought I was the one calling the shots. But I was so fucking wrong.
Malachi Dawson owns me.
My hands are trembling as I pull him back, forcing him to look at me. His eyes are hazy, his cheeks flushed, and the blissed-out smile tugging at his lips only makes my chest tighten.
“Better?” he asks, his voice shaking.
I smirk, leaning forward to grip his chin again, forcing him to look at me. “Much,” I murmur, my voice fucking wrecked. “But you? You’re in so much fuckin’ trouble, Babyface.”
His lips part like he’s about to argue, but he doesn’t. He just stares at me, his blue eyes wide and searching, and for once, he doesn’t fight me.
And fuck, I think I might be done for.