Page 51 of One-Time Shot

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Jizz jetted across his lower abs, but I didn’t stop. I bucked and pistoned, grasping his shoulders for purchase as pleasure tingled along my spine. His hole quivering around my cock was too much, though. White lights blinked and pleasure tickled my spine and…I was a goner.

I roared like a wild beast, pumping everything I had into him.

It took a lifetime to catch my breath and float to Earth. My gaze swept over his chest, his semi, and the space where we were still joined.

My skin was a few shades darker than his, my thighs were more muscular, my chest was hairier. I had tattoos, and he was a blank canvas…miles of smooth surface dotted with adorable freckles. We looked good together, I mused…complementary opposites.

“Are you okay?” I asked, slowly pulling out.

“Mmm. Yes.”

“Shit, we made a mess. Be right back.” I fetched a towel and a couple of water bottles.

We cleaned up and settled next to each other, my knee nudged between his.

“We’re good at this,” Malcolm commented in his most matter-of-fact voice.

“We are. This is where I say we should have been doing this all along.”

“Maybe so.”

“I kind of like that we didn’t. It felt…perfect.” I winced, scrubbing my hand over my face. “Meh…don’t listen to me. I say stupid shit when I’m wrung out in a sex haze.”

He grinned. “Understood. But if it’s any consolation…I agree. This was perfect.”

It was.

And I wondered why—why him, why this, why now? No, this wasn’t a hearts-and-flowers sentimental bullshit moment. I didn’t do those. But I felt something for Malcolm that teetered between friendship and an unknown quantity I wasn’t prepared to examine. It had been there for a while, and lying here with him naked in a dimly lit room that smelled like sex made it difficult to shy away from the truth.

Ireallyliked Malcolm. I liked his smile, his honesty, his odd mix of gullibility and genius, and I liked the way he looked at me…as if I were someone special.

Me.

Not the me who played hockey. Just me. I could get used to that look.

CHAPTER17

MALCOLM

One might learna lot about a person over the course of a two-and-a-half-hour drive. What type of music they preferred; how they handled traffic on the long, lonely stretches of a two-lane interstate; and if they obeyed the laws of the road or were speed demons.

If you’re curious, Jett liked hip-hop, jazz, and classic rock. He was cool under pressure and unperturbed by fellow drivers, and he seemed to appreciate the endless ribbon of evergreens along our route. He was also a pleasant conversationalist. We discussed a medley of topics ranging from world politics to places on our bucket lists, and our thoughts on the latest in intergalactic spinoffs.

I suspected the steady repartee was in part a deliberate ploy to distract me from checking the speedometer. Let it be known that Jett Erickson had a lead foot.

“You’re exceeding the speed limit,” I noted, leaning across the console of his Tahoe. “Again.”

Jett tossed a careless sideways grin my way. “Relax. We’ve got the road to ourselves, Maloney.”

“I’ll have you know, there are deer in these woods, and they’ve been known to dart in front of unsuspecting motorists. It’s quite unsafe.” I was aware that I sounded like a Victorian schoolmaster. I curled my pinky around his as if to counter my fuddy-duddy tone.

“True. They’re majestic and all that, but they can be a fucking menace. One ran into Ty’s truck a couple of years ago. He swerved to avoid hitting it and slammed into a tree instead. Totaled his truck.”

I huffed. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“He was driving half this speed, and it was pitch dark. The roads near his parents’ cabin are windy and narrow. It’s a beautiful place on the lake, but it’s a schlep,” he continued in an obvious effort to steer my attention elsewhere. “A bunch of the guys were heading there this weekend to fish and chill.”