7

-MALCOLM-

HE SAYShe kept the plug in and he didn't touch himself, and judging from the impressive bulge in his pants, I believe him. He did as he was told, such a good boy. He obviously likes being tortured.

The sight of North standing on my doorstep, flushed and sexy as sin, has my heart racing at an alarming rate. The skin of his arms and face glisten with a layer of sweat that I want to lick off, but I hold myself in check. He raises his chin, trying to look confident, but I can see the tension he's carrying in his body. He's usually so cocksure. It's almost endearing.

I step aside and he practically jumps through the door, then stops in the hall and spins toward me as I close it. He looks feral and jumpy, a million miles away from the sunny, put-together jock he normally is. I like him like this, he's less perfect, more touchable.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I say.

His jaw clenches, rebellious. "I can take anything you dish out."

I bark out a laugh. I doubt that very much. His mouth tightens, like it's a personal challenge. Obviously, there's some kind of battle raging inside his head, but I'm not forcing him to be here, he's chosen to come. It's not my job to make anything easy on him. Let him fight his own inner demons, I have enough of my own to deal with. And anyway, it's not my problem.

He glances around the hallway and I know what he's thinking.

"My family owns it. I stay here when I'm in town studying," I fill in.

He nods, but his eyes are still wide. I know enough about him to know he lives on the rough end of town in what amounts to a trailer park—a hardworking boy from a poor family. How quaint.

Well, he's in my world now.

"Baseball," I say, and his eyes snap to me.

"What?"

"You need a safeword. I use baseball, but you can pick something else if you want."

His throat bobs as he swallows, no doubt having second thoughts. But then he squares his shoulders off and says, "Baseball is fine."

His voice is hoarse.

"You can tap out anytime you like. I'm not going to go easy on you."

His eyes are round saucers, his body rigid. I want to take him and make him writhe, I want to wring screams out of that corded throat, see those built shoulders bunch and strain.

I rush forward and push him up against the wall, one arm barring his chest. He lets out a startled noise when his back hits the brickwork.

"Hey!" He pushes at me, but he's not using his full strength, the strength I feel when we're out on the field.

"You want me to stop, use the safeword," I snap, and he bares his teeth at me, but he doesn't say it. I grin then snake a hand down to his groin and squeeze his dick through his pants. It's already rock-hard and he gasps.

I'm purposefully rough, it's how I like it, but I also want to show him how I do things before we're in too deep. I shove him and grab him. Twist and squeeze. Take what I want without asking and wait for him to use the safeword.

He still doesn't.

Ok.

When I pull back and release him he slides partway to the floor, gasping and red in the face, eyes heavy and spaced out with arousal.

"Do you want to stop?" I ask again.

I don't know why I'm asking so much and delaying, he knows he can say it if he wants to. I don't want to think about the small voice inside me saying that it's because if we get into it and I let myself go, really let myself open up, and he backs out, it'll hurt in a way that I don't want it to. No. I squash it down because that's stupid. He's just a dumb, beautiful jock with a stunning smile and the body of a Greek god. I 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.

"No," he says.

I stare into his eyes for a moment and then break away, ignoring the twist in my chest.

"Fine."