Page 15 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

Chapter Fifteen

Zander

Malachi Blanchard gives incredible head.

I’m not just talking about how sexy he looks on his knees with his hair pulled back and cheeks hollowed out—but that definitely adds to the appeal.

He’s meticulous with his tongue, careful with his suction, and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive the way he squeezes my balls when he takes me to the back of his throat.

My hands itch to grab onto his shoulders, his hair, any part of him, but each time I reach he pulls off and directs them back to my sides. That’s it’s own kind of torture.

“Let me touch you,” I whine under my breath, careful not to be overheard.

When I look down, he’s smiling with the tip of my dick in his mouth.

Hot.

He drags his lips down the side of my length then torturously slow back up. There’s pure satisfaction in his eyes as he pops off.

“Want another prize? Win another game, Wildfire.”

My eyes widen, and an impatient whine leaves my throat.

“That’s not playing fair.”

He flattens his tongue on the underside of my cock, cradling it and closing his mouth around the tip—all while his eyes stay locked on mine. The sensation is a cruel torture, suckling on the head and making a show of swallowing the precum that leaks out.

“If you need something to focus on,” he says, replacing his mouth with his hand, the other latching onto one of my thighs. “Fuck my mouth. I can take it.”

I’m not sure I can.

But I’m not going to pass up the opportunity.

With nothing to hold onto, I clasp my hands behind my back, letting the tense muscles keep me balanced.

Malachi grins, pleased with himself—or with me—and agonizingly slow takes my dick down to the base. He’s still gripping me, keeping his own balance.

I pull back and give an experimental thrust of my hips, eyes on Malachi as his flutter closed and a moan rumbles around my cock.

Oh. He likes this.

That’s all it takes to erase any hesitation. My hips rock in a steady motion, tip kissing the back of his throat and throbbing with each guttural moan he makes in response.

It’s a slick, messy glide, and I can feel his spit dribbling down my balls. As my movements become more erratic, the hand on my dick lowers to cup them and squeeze with just enough pressure that I lose all rational thought and thrust my hands with a bruising grip to his shoulders.

“Gonna come,” I choke out, rocking my hips faster. “Please don’t stop.”

Both of his hands move to my thighs, and just as I feel the orgasm cresting over there’s a hard thwack right across my ass.

My cock jumps in Malachi’s mouth, cum spurting in heavy ropes straight down his throat. He takes it without resistance, sucking me dry of every drop before letting my softening cock slip from between his lips.

My whole body tingles, nerves on the fritz, but I manage to stutter out the words, “You fucking spanked me.”

He wipes his thumb across his chin, and his tongue flicks out to lick the smear of cum from it.

“I told you not to touch me.”

I close my eyes and rest my back against the wall. “You didn’t use those exact words.”

When Malachi stands, it’s impossible to miss the erection straining down the leg of his jeans. I’m still catching my breath, and when I bunch the fabric of his shirt in my hand, he doesn’t stop me.

“Can I return the favor?”

I want to witness Malachi fall apart. I want to feel him tremble and hold my head so hard it hurts. I want to taste his cum.

My eyes rise to his lips.

I want to taste mine on him.

He chuckles and steps so close his hard dick brushes my soft one. His hands slide under my shirt, fingers splayed across my ribs.

“Ask me to kiss you.”

He’s so close, and he knows he has blanket permission. I want his mouth on mine every moment he’s willing to give it to me.

He must still be punishing me, but I can’t say I’m entirely mad about it.

I tilt my head, pulling him as close as he’ll allow. When the words pass my lips, they’re hardly a whisper, more an exhaled breath. “Kiss me, Daddy.”

He obliges with his tongue instantly finding home between my teeth.

I was able to hold myself together while he blew me, enthralled by his sounds and the look of him on his knees. But now that all I have to focus on is his tongue in my mouth, his lips on mine, and his fingers tweaking my nipples, I can’t hold back the needy noises fighting their way out.

I’m loud. Too loud. Malachi brings a hand down on my ass again, but that only makes me louder.

“Fuck,” I gasp into his mouth. “Not helping.”

He laughs and tips my head back, trailing his lips across my jaw and down my neck. “No ones going to hear you, Wildfire. I promise. Be as loud as you want for me.”

I need confident, sexy Malachi in my life at all times.

“All the customers are gone. The door is locked. I told Micky he could go home.”

If it were up to me, we would have gone at it in the locker room, but all Malachi did was work me up and leave me begging to be touched.

He insisted on making me wait: doing dinner with him and Julian—where he relentlessly teased me more.

Then, he dragged me to The Den where I had to sit through his shift—sure it was only two or three hours—before he finally brought me to one of the rooms in the back and gave me my much anticipated reward.

“And if he didn’t?”

He flicks his tongue against my earlobe, catching it with a quick nip between his teeth. I suck in a breath, and his laugh cascades across my cheek.

“Well, then now he knows what it sounds like when someone owns you.”

Who knew the whole possessive act would be a turn on?

“Is that what you want, Daddy? To own me?”

I can sense his hesitation, like maybe we’ve crossed too far into unfamiliar territory.

“Do you want to get off?” I change the subject. “I don’t have to touch you. You can … use my thighs. Or just jerk one out and spray me with it. I don’t mind.”

He contemplates it. The way his hands linger on my chest, trail lightly down my sides—he’s thinking about it.

But instead of reaching for his belt, he tucks me back into my briefs and pulls them—along with my pants—up over my ass.

“Maybe next time.”

Relief I hadn’t realized I’d been holding out for floods my system. This wasn’t a one off. He wants to do it again.

He kisses me again, brief and sweet, and when he pulls away, I know he’s re-erected the wall between his usual self and who he lets himself be in bed.

I always thought Malachi was unapproachable because he was off-putting on purpose, but after spending time with him I realize it’s simply because he’s awkward. He has a chronic case of Resting Dick Face that makes him seem scarier than he is.

“You heading back to the dorms?” I ask after a bout of silence.

“Oh. Um, yeah. Jules is waiting up.”

Are you going to talk about me? Tell him how you had my dick in your mouth?

Surely not, but normally I’d joke about it anyway. The air is weird. It’s the first time we’ve gone beyond kissing, and I can’t help but wonder how Malachi really feels about it.

How cheesy is that?

“Malachi.”

“Hm?”

“You want this too, right?”

He cocks his head. “I sucked your dick.”

Yeah, I know how ridiculous I sound, but my heart is beating so hard my chest hurts. I need to clear the damn air.

After a minute, Malachi smiles. It’s small and soft, but it’s there. “It was good, Wildfire.”

I don’t mean to look down—more away to keep myself from putting on an all out grin—but I catch him adjusting his still-hard dick behind his fly.

“You sure you don’t want help with that?”

Malachi’s cheeks heat up in an instant, and it dawns on me that maybe—and my obnoxious ass should have thought of this sooner—he isn’t ready.

He’s not a virgin; both he and Julian have made that clear, but he hasn’t slept around in years. While I don’t know the reason, I suspect there’s more to it than lack of interest.

When we’re both ready to walk out the door and silently make our ways back to our separate housings, Malachi wraps his fingers around my wrist and mutters, “wait.”

His face is contemplative yet still beet red. I turn my hand and tug it slightly until I can slide my fingers into his and give them a comforting squeeze.

He laughs—barely audible—and meets my eyes.

“I’ll record myself getting off,” he says in one breath, knocking mine out of my lungs. “Pass your next test, and I’ll send it to you.”

If that’s not the most motivating sentence ever spoken, I don’t know what is.

I don’t pass the test.

It ticks me off for more than just the fact that I won’t get to watch Malachi touch himself—though that is a travesty.

I’ve been studying and working hard as much as I can between practice and other coursework, but I had already fallen behind, and even with Malachi’s helping hand, catching up is still a bitch.

Which means I kind of am too, and everyone has been more than willing to let me know it. Which makes me even crankier.

Usually I’d blow off steam with Julian—a good make out session usually winds me right down—but I promised Malachi if we were going to fool around it would just be the two of us.

Even with all the static dancing under my skin, that’s not something I’m willing to give up.

Instead, I go for a run and find myself smack dab in front of The Den. It’s like the place is taunting me. Reminding me of our dirty endeavor inside it’s walls and mocking what I fucked myself out of.

“What did the shop ever do to you? Other than house your annoying ass for every single shift Malachi has.”

Micky is standing in the entryway, arms crossed and hip cocked on the frame.

“I’m not here that much.” I swipe at the swear on my face with the bottom of my tank top.

“I beg to differ. You’re here more than I am.”

I shrug. “Malachi here?”

Micky rolls his eyes and thumbs toward the alley. “On break. Bother him at your own risk, though.”

Warning me against doing anything is the most surefire way to make sure I do it. He should know that about me by now.