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

by Arden Long

The small voice at the back of my head tells me what I already know: Only one thing will do.

I groan, close my eyes, and think about the one person that I told myself I wouldn’t think about; his dirty blond hair, his lean body, that ridiculously bright smile, and his puppy dog eyes. North Nolan. The popular, cheerful, and very straight, star player of our team. Golden boy of the college.

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.

To be honest, he scares me a little bit. He’s so big and grumpy, and super intense, something about him just feels kinda—well, not really dangerous but . . . raw. I’m a confident guy, no one could argue with that, but he makes me nervous.

The image is primal, almost violent. And fuck, I’m transfixed. My whole body is frozen in place, so even if I wanted to look away, I can’t. But . . . I don’t want to.

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

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.”

The harsh florescent lights wash out his skin even more than it already is, making him look like some kind of ominous apparition towering over me, even though I know logically he’s only a few inches taller.

Viiibes.

If I do this, what does it mean? Am I gay? Bi? Am I a sick freak who spies on people and jacks off?

“What the fuck are you doing?” I jump. The phone drops from my fingers and clatters across the floor, landing screen up. At the same time, I spin, dick in hand. Malcolm Blackwood is standing in the entrance to the shower stalls, staring at me.

He keeps me pressed against the wall as I work myself up into a frenzy, his eyes burning into me. A strange mix of shame and arousal spreads through me, bringing me to life in a way I’ve never felt before.

Still staring into my eyes with a predatory fire, he makes the smallest noise in his throat as my hand closes around him. This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me. That has ever happened to anyone in the history of existence.

I’m reeling with humiliation; I’ve just made a massive asshole of myself, Malcolm knows I’m a pervert, and now he has a photo of me. Karma is the worst bitch.

Unknown Number: If you want to finish what we started and find out what the handcuffs are for, come to my place tomorrow evening.

Fuck. Malcolm wants it inside me. I don’t understand why but that means I need it inside me, like right now. I’m so fucking hard.

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 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.

He looks so pissed off and it makes my heart sing, because that means he hasn’t taken the plug out all day. It’s confirmation that all of my fantasies actually happened, and it’s so hot I feel my face start to heat too.

I wait for him to speak again, but there’s only silence. I glance over my shoulder at him and see his face is flushed just like mine, his pupils blown wide. He likes what he sees. But he catches me looking and his face hardens in an instant.

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.

“Keep quiet while I play with you, fucktoy.”

Malcolm Blackwood is allowing me to suck on his cock, something that up until yesterday I didn’t know I wanted.

“Why did you come here?” he says for the third time. I don’t even try to think before I answer him this time, and the truth spills out of me. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.” He blinks a few times. But he doesn’t comment. “Why did you record me?” “Because seeing you like that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and I want you to fuck me.” It comes out all strangled and desperate, and to my surprise, I sound like I’m about to cry.

I’m overcome with the urge for him to lie down and throw his arms around me, cuddle me, kiss my trembling lips. But instead of his warm grip, I feel cold metal.

It’s a top and jeans, similar to mine in style, but they’re brand new, still with the tags on. “Yours were no good,” he says shortly. “Wear these.” No good? I unfold the clothes, completely confused. I don’t know if I should be offended, pissed off, or grateful. They’re well-made, thick and durable, but still soft. They’re much nicer than anything I’ve ever owned. I run my hands over the fabric and look up at him again. “Thank you,” I say. He stiffens and doesn’t say anything.

I frown. 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.

He has the key to my fucking cock cage around his neck, but he won’t let me kiss him.

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. A kiss on the cheek maybe. Or even just a goddam smile. But nada.

I jerk back around, stuff my phone back in my pocket, and stare straight ahead. Nope. Not today, Satan.

Psycho: I’m going to fuck your tight little asshole so hard you won’t be able to walk for a fucking week. Jesus. Why does that make my balls ache? There’s something very wrong with me. At the bottom, I read his most recent message: Psycho: Make an excuse to leave and meet me in the restroom. Now. I lick my lips and glance around to make sure no one’s looking, then type a speedy reply. Me: no leave me alone

But the more I try to concentrate the more my mind wanders and the more my hunger grows. I’m like an addict, hooked from just one taste of a drug I never knew existed until a few days ago. And just like an addict, I can feel myself getting desperate. I need relief and there’s only one place I can get it.

“Fuck your hole is greedy.” His voice is strained and wobbly. It’s taking a lot for him to keep hold of himself. I wish he wouldn’t bother.

“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.”

He’s watching me closely; he’s got that predator look back in his eyes again. Maybe I do need him to control me, I obviously have no clue how to run my own life. And what other choice do I have? I can’t get kicked out.

I stare at him. His deep-brown eyes are heated. I always thought they were almost black, but now I can see that they’re warm with flashes of amber radiating out from the center. I’ve been staring at him a whole lot in the past week, how did I never notice that before?

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.

I look up through my damp hair. He’s watching me with a ravenous look on his face, like he wants to completely devour me. Take me apart. His hands grip the couch cushion, like he’s having to use a great effort to stay seated. Like he wants to run over here and tear me apart. I want it too.

“Do you like this, North? Do you like when I tie you down and fuck you with my toy?”

“You hide it so well from everyone else. Your friends, the guys on the team. But you can’t hide it from me. I can see how much you need to be dominated. I own you, and I can do whatever I want with you, and you’ll love every fucking second of it because you’re my cum whore. Isn’t that right?”

Then he shifts, and I feel his lips drag across the skin at the back of my neck as he moves away.

“I’m in charge of all aspects of your life, not just studying and sex. I want full control. You can still tap out at any time, but when you’re with me, I’m your master.”

NORTH’S SNORING wakes me up. Someone might read something into the fact that I put him in the spare room that’s closest to mine, but it doesn’t mean anything. It was purely convenience. And now I’m wishing I’d stuck him as far away as possible.

His blond hair is messy and his face is marked with the lines of sleep. 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.

As we play a game of cat and mouse through the trees, I actually feel the thrill of fear, like I’m a rabbit running from a wolf. But this wolf already owns me, and I know it.

This is revolutionary. I’m starting to think that Mal might be a bit of . . . a nerd. Mind blown.

“I didn’t tell you to suck me off. Keep still. I just want to keep my cock warm with your mouth.”

I spank his red ass again, enjoying the way it makes his body ripple and clench. Fuck he looks so good like this, his lean powerful body bare, on his knees for me, collared and obedient and all mine. How did I get this lucky?

He looks over at me and I can’t tell if he’s hesitant or amused. I don’t like it when he isn’t easy to read. I want to know what he’s thinking at all times.

Everything is basic, nothing so out of his comfort zone that he’d feel off wearing them, but they’re all well-made—the cuts are astoundingly good on him. Seeing him in them fills me with a strange warm feeling that makes my cheeks prickle.

“So . . . why are you buying me clothes and lunch?” North asks. “How does this all fit in with your rigorous training regime?” I purse my lips. “Because I like nice things. And since you’re one of my things, I want you to look nice. Otherwise, people might think I’m hanging around with a hobo.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re such an asshole.” “Did I ever give you any indication that I wasn’t?”