Page 24 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

The condoms take me a minute longer to find, but as soon as I do I thrust my underwear down and slip one over my leaking cock. It’s not sexy in any way; it’s frantic and downright comical how I try and step out of my boxers without falling over.

As soon as I’m fully gloved up, I march back to Malachi an yank his face to mine. I press my cock into his stomach, and then line our dicks up and hold them both in my hand. He groans and gasps into my mouth, and as I rut us together, his hand comes down on my ass.

Hard.

He’s told me what he wants. Stop overthinking it.

“Impatient,” I mutter and take a step back. “Are you going to get on your knees, or do I need to put you there?”

His eyes flash with a deep arousal, one that burns in my own gut and spurs me on to weave my fingers into his hair and pull until he shudders and drops down.

I smack my dick on the side of his face, rubbing the latex covered head over his lips but not asking for entrance.

“You’re so pretty,” I say softly more for myself than him. I’ve always thought it, but didn’t dare say it out loud.

Now that I have, the blush on his cheeks emboldens to say it again.

“So pretty on your knees, waiting to be fucked.”

At the edge of my ability to hold out, I circle around him. My fingers find his name and trail down. Over each bump and ridge of his spine. Into the little dimples on his lower back.

He shivers, either from the cold or my touch, but I know I’ll have to save the exploratory play for later.

I brace my hands on his shoulders and shove. He catches himself on his elbows, digging into the dirt and knees scrapping forward a few inches at the force.

There’s no complaint, just air hissing through his teeth.

I grab the bottle of lube at the base of the tree and coat my dick until I feel it dripping down my balls. Then, I crouch down and spread Malachi’s cheeks, pressing a finger into his hole to make sure he’s still good and open.

He moans like he’s trying not to, and I pour some extra lube down his crack just to be safe.

I notch my dick at his hole, spreading his cheeks with my hands. It’s so fucking hot to watch my tip sink into him, to hear his breathing stutter as his body accepts me.

The whole head pops in, and I pause, giving him time to adjust. Once his breathing sounds less labored, I rub a hand up his back to grip his nape and use him as leverage to push in deeper.

He grunts, lowering his head to his arms, but as I work myself in deeper, his noises become less pained and more needy.

“That’s it. Good, Daddy.” His hole tightens around me as I bury myself to the hilt, and I can’t stop the grin that takes over. “Oh, Daddy.”

I drape over his back to press my lips to his ear. “You like that? Being a good little cock slut for your boy?”

He squeezes me again, and I bite down on the shell of his ear. “This is gonna hurt. But you can take it, Daddy, right?”

I roll my hips a few times until a moan slips past his lips, and then I grab his face and yank it to the side to taste the noises as they come out. Even as my thrusts get harder, I keep us connected until he’s panting so hard he can’t keep up the kiss.

I straighten and grab onto his thighs, pounding so hard my balls ache and my skin stings from being slapped together.

His ass is red, and his legs shake, and maybe he’s a fucking masochist after all because when I wrap my fingers around his throat and lift him up until his back hits my chest, he fucking whimpers of all things.

“You feel so good.” My pace has to slow because I don’t have the leverage to go at it as hard like this, so I focused on getting deep and staying there, rocking my hips but not creating friction.

“Zander,” Malachi rasps, and I know he wants me to move again. And I will, after I’ve teased him a little.

I gather his balls in the palm of my hand and give them a light tug. “Do you want me to touch your dick?”

He shakes his head almost immediately, and I squeeze him tighter until his entire body trembles.

“Baby,” he whispers, and that word— that one word —breaks what little control I have left.

Baby. Baby boy. I’m his baby. He’s my Daddy.

It doesn’t make sense; it just is, and I don’t want to question or fight it anymore.

I let go of his throat and push his shoulders down. He goes easily back to all fours, but it isn’t enough. Isn’t good enough.

With my dick pulled mostly out, just keeping him stretched with the head in his ass, I grasp a handful of his hair and shove his face into the ground. He gasps and jerks, but the most I let him do is turn his head to the side.

There’s dirt covering his cheeks and nose with an angry red scratch across his forehead. It’s not bleeding, though, so I don’t panic and trust that if he needed me to stop, he’d tell me.

I let him catch his breath, easing a hand onto his hip and rubbing it in soft circles as an apology for what I’m about to do.

My other hand stays firmly clenched on his hair, and when I thrust my cock back inside of him, I push on his hip until he collapses fully on the ground.

I’ve never heard him shout so loud, but it’s not a cry of pain if the rocking of his hips into the goddamn dirt is anything to go by.

I can’t take it anymore. I grip both of his shoulders, embracing the bite of the ground beneath my knees, and fuck into him with everything I have.

He never stops screaming, not even when his voice is broken and hoarse, and I don’t stop until my balls tingle and tighten, ready to blow.

I slip free of his ass and listen to the quiet whimper his voice becomes, stripping the condom from my dick an tossing it behind me.

“Hush, Daddy, you’ll like this.”

I barely catch the glare he throws my way, leaning my weight on his back and jerking my dick until I cum in thick streams all over his skin.

The cooling sweat on my body as I breathe and recover starts to feel like I’m covered in ice, so I move to the side and plop down on my ass. I gently nudge Malachi, and he grunts, but not much else.

When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to get up on his own, I force myself back to my knees and gently turn him onto his side.

Those stormy gray eyes open, and a smile appears on his lips. “I’m alright, Wildfire.”

He doesn’t look it, covered in dirt and scratches, but he raises a hand and cups his fingers over my cheek.

“Good boy.”

And if that isn’t the nail in the metaphorical coffin.

My chest feels light, and my eyes burn with unshed tears. I don’t understand, but I also don’t care.

“Thank you, Daddy.”