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

by Arden Long

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

They’re intrusive thoughts, not fantasies, because I don’t want him to do those things.

I peek under the covers at my offending semi. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss at it. “He’s a dude. And he’s scary as shit.”

I don’t know how it came to this, but I know deep down that I already have no control over it, all I can do is hold on tight as I’m swept along in the hurricane that is Malcolm Blackwood.

He has the key to my fucking cock cage around his neck, but he won’t let me kiss him. I’m even more confused than I was before I came here.

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.

“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.” Is it just me, or is this not making any kind of sense?

“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.”

Do I make a deal with the devil? Everything inside me is telling me it’s a very bad idea. Which is kinda funny considering I just hunted him down for a rough fuck like a starving addict.

He sounds like he’s reading from an instruction booklet—How to Dom Your Straight(ish) Teammate Who You Might Or Might Not Hate

To be honest I’d do almost anything if it means he keeps giving me his cock. It’s my drug of choice. Mal is my dealer, and he’s got me good and hooked.

He’s like the world’s most confusing, infuriatingly sexy puzzle.

Self-preservation? I don’t know her.

I will never get over how good he looks. Did I really go through my whole life thinking I was straight? Because wow

One minute I was feeling ridiculous in an outfit clearly three sizes too small for me, and the next, North was looking at me with that soft hot look he gets where his eyes go all gooey. Like I’m the best thing to ever crawl out of god’s glorious ass.

I close my eyes. God, I wish he wasn’t drunk right now. I wish he meant all this stuff he was saying. I want it so badly it hurts.

“Ok,” he says. “And you’re a fucking hot cowboy.” He won’t remember this tomorrow, but I smile. “So are you. You’re the yee to my haw.”

His breath is musty with stale alcohol and spicy pizza, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck. He’s always up and ready before me so I never get to experience his morning breath. It’s such a private, honest thing. Yeah, call me weird, but I guess I’m well and truly smitten.

The air is crisp and cool which helps my head, but the clear sky does nothing to block the light, and the sun has decided it hates my retinas. The feeling is entirely mutual.