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

by Arden Long

“You’re not satisfied with our arrangement?” “No, well, I mean, yeah the . . . sex,” he looks around and mouths the word like an old woman. “The whole Dom/sub thing we’ve got going on, yeah. Great. Amazing. Ten out of ten, would recommend.” He gives a nervous laugh. “But, I mean what are we personally? like, are we going out? Am I your boyfriend?” He flicks the straw again and drops his eyes. “Because, like, I’m cool with that if we are.”

“Your life is worth more than a fucking EpiPen, North!”

I’M SO mad. I’m so fucking mad. I’m mad that he would be so fucking stupid. And I’m mad that he can make me feel like this. And I’m mad that I can’t keep a hold on myself.

The butt plug is on the bed. He’s taken it out and cleaned it. Does that mean something?

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

“I want to own you on the field tonight. No one will know that under your clothes you’re filled and mine.”

But then he tilts his head and looks up at me, his fierce eyes hot under his lashes. My brain short circuits, and I can’t stop a shuddering groan from escaping my loose lips.

There’s something delicious about him tied up, helpless and squirming in the dark, while the rest of the team go out to celebrate his big win.

When I’m done there’s a livid red mark halfway up the side of his neck. It’s high enough that it’ll be hard to conceal. I look down at it. Why did I do that?

I’m getting everything I want from North, in exactly the way I want it, so I’m not going to spare another second for Becki and her kiss. “So, what did Becki say to you?” I ask.

He dries himself off and I watch his hands work over his body. That smooth tanned skin with a dusky sprinkling of hair that marks so perfectly under my hands. My mark on his neck is bright red and speckled with burst blood vessels. Mine.

Mal: You left your running shoes here. Kinda random. I frown and type out a quick reply. Me: ok

“I dunno there’s this weird energy between you guys. Like, he’s always looking at you in bio class.”

I STOP pacing, throw my book down, and glare at the wall. I’m edgy as hell, my body feels like it’s full of thousands of fire ants and my head is buzzing like a fucking hornet’s nest.

I could drive around different restaurants until I find somewhere that I want to eat. I’m in an uncharacteristically indecisive mood, so I’d have to try quite a few. Maybe peer in the windows to see what the vibe’s like, if anyone inside looks interesting . . . I dismiss it instantly. That’s idiotic.

“I don’t get why you can’t just do us both. You never had a problem with it before.” “Because I don’t want to.” “Why? What’s changed?” “Nothing,” I snap. “Then why won’t you do me too?” I snap and turn on him. “Because I’m not interested in you, Paul! I don’t want anyone else. I only want him!”

I don’t want anyone else but him. All this time I thought as long as I had him that would be enough. But it’s not, I don’t just want him, I want only him, and there’s a big fucking difference. Everyone and everything else pales in comparison to North.

For a split second Malcolm’s glare cracks and he looks like he’s going to laugh, but then his face hardens again. His dark eyes are wild, he looks manic.

“You’re mine, and I never”—I bite down for emphasis—“want to see anyone with you like that ever again.”

“Say my name while you get yourself off,” I say. “Malcolm,” he gasps. But that’s not right. That doesn’t hit the spot. “No. The name you call me.” He opens his eyes and looks at me, biting his lip, and then groans, “Mal.” My chest tightens. Yes. That’s it. Only he can call me that. That’s his name. It belongs to him. “More,” I say. “Mal. Mal. Oh fuck, M-Mal.”

He nods, his mouth hanging open, hopelessly aroused. He looks so fucked out. My perfect golden boy.

“What did you do?” Malcolm smothers a smirk as he says, “Nothing he didn’t want.” My whole body flushes hot.

The gravel shifts under my feet and I slam against the wall of the diner with an oof. Malcolm moves in a blur. One second he’s standing with his fists clenched, barely holding himself back. The next, his fist cracks into Paul’s face, with his full weight behind it.

“Do. Not. Touch. Him.” He throws Paul down again. “Now get the fuck out of here, before I break your fucking jaw.”

He’s waiting for me just where he should be in the hallway, on his knees, naked, with the band of leather around his neck. He looks up at me and smiles as his face turns that shade of pink that does unspeakable things to me and makes me want to do unspeakable things to him.

The only thing better than perfection is being the one to ruin it.

“God, you love it when I fuck your throat until you cry, don’t you?” He moans, spit slipping out between his lips. I can feel his hips bucking beneath me as he tries to get some friction on his leaking dick. “Fuck, Nolan, you look so good choking on my cock.”

He laughs. It’s raspy from the savage throat fuck, and so fucking good. I don’t have a favorite noise but if I did, this might be it.

I never knew feeling trapped and powerless could feel so good.

“I’m going to make you come over, and over, and over. Everything you have belongs to me, and I’m going to milk you dry until I’ve got every last drop of your cum.”

He looked so good, ruined and debauched, so needy and . . . open. Like he was showing me his soul through his blue eyes. I couldn’t not kiss him. And I don’t know if I’m scared or not.

His thoughts, his body, and each and every one of his desires—I need them all.

He can deny it all he wants, but I know I mean more to him than he’ll admit. He tries to be cold and distant on the outside, but I know him now, and he can’t hide his true feelings from me. Even if he can hide them from himself.

As I took him apart and claimed him as my own, piece by piece, I swore to myself that I was never going to hurt him again.

I swear, the more time I spend with him the less immune I become. God damn cheerful asshole, making me feel relaxed when I should be agitated.

He’s made it clear I’m not his “boyfriend.” We just spend all of our time together, sleep in the same bed, fuck like rabbits, and absolutely obsess over each other. We don’t need a label for this, other than “fucking great.”

he trails off and tips my head up with his finger, exposing my neck and the bite marks littering my skin—his new favorite hobby.

“It’s disgusting. I want this room kept tidy from now on.” “Seriously, Mal, if you don’t want me to call you daddy you’re going about it the wrong way,” I groan.

“Safe signal?” he asks. I snap my fingers and give an enthusiastic thumbs up for good measure. “Good.”

This feels more real and vital than anything else in my life. I belong to Malcolm completely and wholly.

His face is tight with concentration as he eases his cock inside me, and my legs shake as I stretch around him. “Too much?” he checks in. I shake my head. “Want it hard?” Oh god yes. I give him a jerky nod. He draws out, then slams back in, filling me all the way in one thrust. I throw my head back and scream into the gag.

“The gag stays in. You’re going to clean this room on your hands and knees with that dildo up your fucking ass and stuffed full of my cum.”

He has his grits plain, like a true psychopath, but he puts out honey and a bowl of sliced fruit for me. I pile it on.

Ewwwww. No! Grits are savory! Butter and cheese!

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

Why is it that Mal can do all kinds of filthy things to me without blinking an eye, but say something nice to him and he shuts down?

“I like to keep things easy.” I can’t help snorting at that. “Right. So is this easy?” I say, because it’s been anything but. This is the most stressful, complicated relationship I’ve ever had with anyone. “No. But also, yes.” He clears his throat and stares into his bowl like the pale sludge in it is the most interesting thing in the room. “It’s too easy being with you. I’m not used to it being like this.” Oh. My heart.

“I enjoy myself all the time. At home. Why do you want me to go so badly?’ “Because I like you. And I don’t want to go without you.” I sigh. Growing feelings is a pain in the ass.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I brought this on myself. I flew too close to the sun, and now I’m paying the price; I have to go and socialize.

I add the gun belt to the pile and wave the golden card he gave me under his nose. “You told me I had to use this more, didn’t you? I’m just doing as I’m told.” “I hate you,” he growls. I grin back at him. “Nuh-uh.”

I purse my lips. I honestly don’t know why I was ever afraid of him. It’s the funniest, cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. This moment must be dedicated to memory.