My Dark Jock: The Complete Series (My Dark Jock Series)

by Arden Long

He swims into my vision, and my mind finally clears, taken up entirely by thoughts of him, my guilty pleasure.

The things I would do to him. I’d make that dopey grin twist into a cry of agonizing pleasure. I’d make his bright blue eyes roll back in his head. I’d coat that tan skin in a slick layer of sweat and cum, until it was pink and flushed.

If he knew I thought about him like this, his pretty head would probably explode.

Malcolm Blackwood has always hated me, and I don’t know why. And, as much as I wish it didn’t, it bothers the hell out of me.

Everyone loves me, because, well, I’m lovable as hell.

What would that feel like? To be fucked by Malcolm Blackwood?

“Shit. Come on. Becki’s nice.” My cock doesn’t listen to me.

The joke’s on me, because my life does not, in fact, go back to normal.

“I didn’t tell you to put your dick away,” he growls. At his tone, my cock stiffens even more. What the fuck is happening?

“Nah I can’t,” I say, desperately trying to think of an excuse that’s not “I need to go beat off over Malcolm Blackwood before I pass out.”

Unknown Number: Use it straight away and don’t stop until I see you. Do not touch yourself.

I don’t do that kind of thing. I play football and study, and flirt with girls. I’m straight and, to be honest, pretty vanilla. I don’t shove butt plugs up my fucking ass.

But it looks like the puppy-dog jock has more metal in him than I’d given him credit for. And a dark side. I still can’t quite believe that he’s not only apparently very into me, but also has natural sub tendencies too.

He glares at me, his cheeks bright red, his eyes challenging. I can see the fight there, but I can also see the hunger, the excitement, and it makes the dark possessive streak in me crow with victory.

I smirk. Nice try girl, but North is mine right now.

THAT ASSHOLE. I’m tempted to pull the plug out and stuff it into his locker, unwashed. Or even better, throw it at his stupid, smug, sexy face.

have a crush on him, but that’s it. He doesn’t mean anything to me. This is just some fun to help me clear the buzzing in my head.

“What makes you think you get to kiss me?”

It’s a struggle but I still don’t move or make a sound. I follow his instructions, and he’s rewarding me.

And there was me thinking he was actually being nice to me. This is Mal Blackwood, I remind myself, of course he wouldn’t be nice to you.

You’re only here because he enjoys tormenting you, and for some reason, you get off on it.

“If you can’t take my fingers, there’s no way you can take my dick,” he says. It feels like a threat. I can take them, I want to shout. I suck with renewed vigor, desperate to show him I can do it, desperate for the chance to taste his dick.

“Why did you come here?” This again? I want him to hurry up and fuck my mouth already, let me taste him. “Because I wanted to,” I say.

It’s so much bigger than his fingers, and my lips stretch around it as I suck it in, obscenely grateful for the honor.

“This is to make sure no one gets you off but me. Your cock belongs to me now, and you don’t come, you don’t even get hard, without my permission.”

Do I like being treated like this? Being given terse instructions and expected to follow? My dick tells me I do, but my heart tells me I want something more from him. I’m just not sure what it is.

This is probably a terrible idea. He’s so beautiful, and nice, and good. And messy, and impulsive. Everything I’m not. Everything I don’t let myself get involved in. And when he tried to kiss me I felt my control slip for just a moment .

Because there’s a part of me deep down that wants more from him, more than I’ve ever wanted from anyone else.

He’ll give me all of himself and receive nothing of me in return. He will be mine.

Like, desperate for more, eyes rolling back, “fuck me harder, daddy” loved it.

I get that he’s not the cuddly type, and to be honest I don’t really know what the protocol is when you fuck your straight teammate into oblivion, but a little bit of something would have been nice.

And then I’m going to ask Becki out and have nice, normal, boring sex with her. And I’m never going to fantasize about Mal tying me down and fucking me into a gibbering mess ever again.

He’ll stick his whole dick in my mouth, but the thought of kissing me is too repulsive?

My head can’t take it. Why is he playing with me like this? Why is he tormenting me? And why do I want him so badly?

One with a big dumb smile. And I could wipe that smile away and make that face crease with pain and pleasure.

“Get away from me,” he says. His voice is raw and dangerous.

“Not until you fuck me, asshole,” I pant.

My tongue plunges into him, tasting every part of him as I inhale desperately through my nose, taking in the smell of his blood and sweat and dark deliciousness.

“Shut up, you fucking slut,” he hisses, and his harsh words only make me moan more. I am a slut, a slut for him and no one else.

“You fucking . . . golden boy . . . you’re nothing but a . . . slut. Begging for me to . . . fuck you hard. Is this . . . what you want . . . Nolan? You want to . . . squirm on my . . . dick. Fuck.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been this intimately close to someone before and it makes my chest feel warm and fluttery at the same time. I don’t like it.

Under that dopey grin and those puppy dog eyes, he’s not as innocent as he appears.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask. I don’t want to care, but I fucking do. He grins, and wipes at the blood on his mouth. “Just enough. But this isn’t mine, it’s yours.”

“Why did you do that?” I ask. “Punch you?” “Make me fuck you.” “I told you, I need to concentrate,” he says. “And you weren’t going to help me out.”

Deep down, part of me is hoping it’s because he needs me as much as I need him, and part of me is afraid of that.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I say. “I’ll help you with your grades, I’ll make sure you pass. And you give me what I want.” He eyes me warily. “What do you want?” “You. I want all of you. Anywhere, and anytime I want.”

THE MOONLIGHT glints off Mal’s face, and I can’t help but feel like I’m making a deal with the devil. My heart flips.

“You’ve been such a good boy this week,” he murmurs into my ear, before taking the fleshy lobe between his teeth and biting down hard.

See, I’m good, I say with my eyes. See how good I am?

He fastens it around my neck, the stiff leather snug against my skin. I swallow and feel the way my throat moves against it. God damn, it feels so kinky, so dirty, so amazingly, deliciously wrong.