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

by Arden Long

At least my mind is clear now; Malcolm has been jerked out of there, and I can get back to living my life like normal. One and done.

He did as he was told, such a good boy. He obviously likes being tortured.

he wears a silky black shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his elbows in a way that says he’s ready to get to work. Only, “work” is me.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Yes,” I say, not caring how wrecked I sound. “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.

“Don’t look so happy with yourself. I haven’t finished yet.” As if that’s a bad thing.

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

So, that’s new.

My dick is an idiot, and I’m not listening to it.

even though we’ve only had sex once, what just happened feels far too much like a breakup. Does that make him my crazy ex?

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.

Part of me bristles at how stupidly cute he looks like this. No one has any business looking this cute first thing in the morning after rolling out of bed.

it’s a glorious fucking morning. One that I shouldn’t have to see because I should still be asleep.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re such an asshole.” “Did I ever give you any indication that I wasn’t?”

How are you meant to behave when you wake up with someone clinging to you like an abandoned baby monkey?

“It’s ok, I’m not going to start calling you my boyfriend or anything. Or expecting you to be any less grumpy.” I grunt into my mug. “Good, because I’m not going to be.” “Good,” he says. “Good.” He’s grinning far too cheerfully. “Good.” He raises his eyebrows at me and swirls his mug. “Because I like my guys like I like my coffee, dark, bitter, and—no wait, that doesn’t work. I like my coffee sweet as hell.”

We just need a little longer to allow Mal to fully inch out of his shell. Like an adorable little bad-tempered hermit crab.

How many times can you fuck in one morning? Asking for a friend.

“Good morning,” says a bright and cheerful voice that I instantly recognize and hate. How can he be so chipper when the world is literally heaving apart. “No, it isn’t,” I croak.

Does he have some kind of dildo Tardis?

He looks suitably fucked. In other words, he looks perfect. “That’s better,” I say. “Right then, let’s go.” His face is absolutely priceless as I open the door and step out into the insipid morning light.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just tell us. You know we’d be cool with it.” “I know. I was just worried you guys would think differently of me.” “Different how? You’re a pussy magnet. Makes sense you’d be a dick magnet too.”

“He fucked with you. And no one fucks with you.” He grins slowly. “Yeah. That’s your job.”

“Oh, yes. Fuck me, I love you,” he says to the burger, then looks at me and adds around a mouthful of food. “I was talking to the burger by the way.” “Clearly,” I say.

A hedgehog! That’s it. He reminds me of a hedgehog today. A grumpy, spikey hedgehog who won’t admit he needs support. I cover my mouth with my hand and try to pretend I’m smiling at something on my phone.