Page 17 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

Chapter Sixteen

Zander

Malachi kisses me a little more liberally now.

Not in the passionate way we do on game days, but when I say something stupid that makes him roll his eyes or when I’m talking too much and he wants me to shut up.

He’ll press his mouth to mine just long enough to shift my focus and then pull away all sneakily satisfied.

He still doesn’t let me touch him, preferring to offer blowjobs or humping sessions—and I have no problem grinding our bodies together until we both come in our pants—but I’m determined to lay hands on him this time around.

We’ve been kicking ass and taking names; we’re even on track to make it to the Frozen Four. Which means I’ve gotten lots of rewards and might even be a bit spoiled.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy,” Micky says from beside me at the buffet-style pizza shop a couple of us decided to hit up after annihilating another game.

Usually I fuck off with Malachi at the first opportunity, but he had work and the guys have started getting huffy that I never celebrate with them.

“Getting laid will do that to you,” I say, shoving a piece of piping hot cheese pizza in my mouth. What’s life without a little danger?

“You’re always getting laid,” he says with a snort. “What’s different about this one?”

I like to think Malachi and I are a well-kept secret, but I know better. I’m not subtle; I spend most of my free time with him and Julian, and I’m certain Micky has caught us making out at The Den a time or two; though, he hasn’t said anything.

What’s different?

He calls me Wildfire. Kisses me like I’m important.

Draws out the parts of me I don’t let other people see.

Not that I’ll say any of that out loud.

“Has the great Halefire finally caught feelings?”

I roll my eyes and backhand his shoulder. “I can’t like someone I’m seeing now?”

Two slices of pizza down and Micky’s stare is almost its own entity. “What?”

He drops his chin into his open hand, green eyes analyzing me to an unnerving degree.

“Is that what this is? You’re seeing him?”

“Oh, c’mon. You know what I mean.”

Micky laughs, short with an edge of sarcasm. “I don’t think you do, man. Answer me this: are the two of you exclusively hooking up?”

I don’t like this line of questioning. “Yes.”

“Okay. Do you hook up every time you hang out?”

“No.” Though, not entirely by choice. I would have my hands all over Malachi if he’d give me the chance.

“Do you talk—often—even when you aren’t hanging out?”

“That’s kind of how friends work!” I throw my hands up. “You know my MO. Friends with benefits until the benefits wear off, and then … eventually so does the friends part.”

The words leave an icky taste in my mouth.

“How do you feel about that? Losing out on everything that isn’t sex.”

We haven’t even had sex yet. I haven’t even seen him naked.

I know what he’s asking, and even thinking about it causes a pain in my chest.

“It’s okay to have a crush,” Micky says, patting me on the back. “Just make sure you know where he stands, too.”

Until just now, I didn’t even know where I stood.

Me having a crush on Malachi? Like genuine romantic interest?

If I suggested taking him out on a date, I’m pretty sure it would freak him the hell out. A few weeks ago I may have thought he’d murder me at the idea, but now? After spending time with him?

I think I’d be the one scaring him.

Normally, I’m jumping on Malachi the second he’s available, but now I’m standing outside The Den while he locks up for an entirely different reason.

He smiles at me over his shoulder, and it’s a genuine one. I’ve been getting more of those lately.

“Thought you were stopping by in the morning.”

A waif of cold air makes my skin feel hot. At least, that’s what I blame it on.

“Is it so strange that I wanted to see you sooner?”

He steps forward, fingers gripping my wrist and sliding up to my elbow. The gentlest tug pulls me into him, his free hand cupping my chin and his mouth descending on mine.

I open up for him right away, inviting his tongue to explore mine as if there’s any ground left to cover.

Why does kissing him feel like such a relief? When did that happen?

“Wanted to see me or wanted your reward?” he asks on a breathy exhale after pulling away.

I don’t even entertain teasing tonight. “You. We need to talk.”

“Uh oh. Bored of me already?”

If I didn’t know him better, I would miss the muscles in his jaw tense and his gaze drop away. I wouldn’t read them for the insecurity they are.

People think I keep everything surface level, but I pay attention.

“Nah, definitely not. Just … not here. Can we go back to your dorm?”

His brows pinch, but he nods. We walk in relative silence. Not holding hands. Not bickering like usual. Just stewing in the tense atmosphere I can’t get myself to dispel.

It’s not like he makes any steps to close the gap either, so by the time we make it up the stairs of his dorm there’s a cloud of dread and anticipation that makes a sickening mix in my gut.

He flicks the light on and strides with a purpose to his bed. At first all he does is stand there, back to me, but he finally decides to take a seat on the mattress and motions for me to do the same.

My chest tightens, shoulders drawing up as I clench my fists in my pockets. Heat builds up in my cheeks, only getting worse by the look in Malachi’s eyes when he notices.

“Wildfire.”

Burn me up. Turn me to ash. I want to take you with me.

Micky is right about one thing: these feelings are unique to Malachi. I’ve never wanted to weigh my burdens on someone else like this.

I keep this part of me separate from the rest of the world for a reason.

My feet follow his silent directions, letting my weight drop heavy and hollow on the bed beside him.

“You’re freaking me out,” Malachi says, stretching his arm around my back to squeeze my shoulder with his steady fingers.

A dry laugh scrapes out of my throat, and I clasp my hand over his, grateful that he doesn’t pull away.

“Don’t be. I—I have a hard time being really … vulnerable, I guess?”

The intense attentiveness that Malachi displays does good to settle the bundle of nerves tangled in my chest. He rubs his thumb along the curve of my neck, pressing into the groove where it and my shoulder meet.

“Do you need …” Malachi trails off, fingers gliding along my skin with feather-light pressure. “Here.”

His other hand tangles into my hair, firm yet gentle. He turns my head, pulling the strands just hard enough to make me gasp, and then he swallows the sound with his mouth over mine.

Everything falls away while we kiss. The coil wound tight in my body loosens. A brazenness comes alive with every swipe of his tongue.

I swing my legs over his hips and nudge his shoulders until he lays himself back. He grabs onto my waist, holding me close—as if I have any intentions other than grinding my body on top of his.

Why can’t everything be as simple as kissing Malachi?

My hands find the hem of his shirt and slip underneath. He’s been more willing to let me explore lately, but he still keeps me on a tight leash.

Now, they travel up his stomach, and I relish in the hitched breath he huffs into my mouth. My fingers find his nipples, and when he doesn’t push me away, I rub them with the pads of my fingers.

Malachi’s moan is a deep, erotic sound, and his body aches into the attention. My mind is fuzzy and focused solely on dredging more of those noises out of him.

I shove his shirt up his chest and leave his mouth to pop one of the buds in mine. A scratchy sound leaves his throat and a hand comes around the back of my neck.

All I want is for him to feel good. The way he makes me me good.

My hips move in soft, circular motions over his. His dick swells against mine. He pushes his chest out with every suck and flick of my tongue.

I litter his chest with little bruises, his pants and broken cries spurring me on. When I pull away to look at him—to see the evidence of my rampage and the wrecked expression on his face.

His chest is red in all kinds of ways, and it hits me like a brick wall all of a sudden that I’ve never seen him shirtless before.

How is that possible?

Ink decorates his skin in a swirl of letters. Stanzas. There’s an elaborate piece on his ribs of detailed headphones with wings tangled in a bright red ribbon, the only color to the work aside from streaks of red dripping from the wings and pale pink scratch marks that look like scars.

I run my fingers over them for the peace of mind that they’re actually a part of his ink and not real scars.

Malachi audibly gasps at my light touch, shivering and clenching the bedsheets in his fists.

There’s no counting the tattoos—they’re too numerous, weaving into each other. Lyrics. Tiny drawings that tie them together.

They’re mesmerizing. Consuming.

I’m so busy touching him—appreciating him—that I don’t hear the door open, I don’t notice footsteps or the squeak coming from the other side of the room. It’s Malachi’s hands closing over my own that breaks me out of the trance.

When I look up, his face is a deep rosy hue, and I finally catch a glimpse of Julian out of the corner of my eye.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says with a slight giggle. “They’re beautiful aren’t they?”

There aren’t words for what I think about his body right now, so I simply nod and drag my hands down Malachi’s chest to rest on his hips.

Julian bounds over and hops onto the bed beside us, seeming to have no care for the scene he just walked in on. His face is split in a grin, and he leans down to Malachi, faux whispering, “Did you ask him?”

Instantly, my curiosity is piqued. “Ask me what?”

Malachi curses under his breath and throws an arm over his eyes, which only makes Julian giggle again. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Julian says, turning those bright eyes on me. “It’s hot.”

Over the last few weeks, Malachi hasn’t asked a single thing of me sexually. If he’s got something on his mind, I damn sure want to know it.

“Now you have to tell me.”

What could fluster him like this?

He huffs in surrender, tense shoulders deflating, but he keeps his eyes covered. I watch his throat bob, watch his tongue and teeth worry his bottom lip.

I give the barest rock of my hips so he’ll feel my hard cock on his thigh—so he’ll know that whatever is on his mind, I’m interested.

“Jules and I were talking …” his voice trails off, and after a moment he clears his throat. “You want to have sex. And I’m not there yet.”

I swallow around the dryness in my throat. “If you’re trying to give me permission to sleep around, I don’t want that. You were clear about wanting this exclusive.”

“I know.” He sighs and moves his hips under mine, a reciprocated interest. “It’s not sleeping around. It’s more … I want to watch you fuck.”

My ears ring as blood rushes to my head. My actual head this time, though my dick is also throbbing with the thrum of excitement.

“You and Julian,” he clarifies, finally dropping his arm and gazing between us. “I trust him. You’re comfortable together.” He shrugs.

The words twist and turn in my brain, creating a myriad of images that only serve to both confuse and turn me on more.

“Wait. Is this what you have in mind for …?”

“Your reward? Yeah.”

I don’t mean to whine; it just slips out.

“I want to touch you.”

Malachi’s face grows warm again, and I flatten myself over top of him, ghosting my mouth along his jaw.

“Daddy,” I whisper in his ear, feeling him shudder and his cock jump against mine. His arms come around me, one resting on my ass where I know he’s dying to smack.

“You can touch me,” he says quietly, stroking a hand up my back. “But nothing below the belt. The rest of me is fair game.”

I kiss along his neck, hips working against his because he’s right—I want sex. More importantly, I want to have sex with him , but if he’s not ready, I’ll take whatever he’s willing to offer.

“Um.”

I startle at Julian’s timid voice, remembering that Malachi and I aren’t alone.

Unable to convince myself to give up Malachi’s warmth, I sit back up and give Julian an apologetic smile.

“Zander,” he says in that soft, seductive way of his. “Is that something you’d like to try?”

Would I like to be buried in Julian while Malachi watches?

“How would it work? Where would we … what would we …?”

Malachi’s hands find my waist and squeeze, bringing my attention to him.

“I was thinking we could rent a motel room. Sit down. Hammer out some rules and expectations.”

The muscles in his face are tense, but he tries to smile for me anyway.

“One last time. Because I can handle a dry spell, you know. Let me make sure I understand.”

I take in a breath, focusing on Malachi’s fingers stroking my skin.

“You want to watch while I fuck your best friend?”

His eyes come to life in a way I’ve only seen when he’s on his knees, or when he’s got me shoved against a wall, lips pressed so tight to mine I can barely breathe.

It’s dark. Lustful.

“Let me make this clear, Wildfire.” The way he says the name sends tendrils of electricity down my spine. “I want to watch you fuck my best friend while we both know what you really want is to be fucking me.”

My heart pounds so hard my chest might explode.

We’ve never talked about who would do what when we got that far, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t fantasized about burying myself in his ass.

I want to fuck him.

I want to hear him beg me to hit that sweet spot—No, I want him to order me to fuck him until he comes on my cock.

“I think he likes the idea,” Julian says with a quiet snicker, and I don’t bother denying it.

I meant it when I said I’m up for whatever Malachi has in mind.

Whatever he wants me to do.

However he wants me.

As long as he wants me.