Page 105 of Iced Out

“What’s going on, Oak?”

I take a deep breath and utter a sentence I never thought I’d speak.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Twenty-Nine

Quinton

“What?” I ask, not sure if I heard him right. Because I swear to God, Oakley, who might be the mosttopguy I’ve ever met, just asked me to—

“Fuck me, Quinn.”

Yeah, that.

Holy mother of shit.

I gape at him from my place on the bed, unclear how to respond when this has never been on the table for him. It’s not something we’ve ever discussed, and honestly, I’ve been fine with keeping it the way we have.

But apparently the guy who loves nothing more than following the rules is looking to throw every fucking one of them out tonight, leaving me stunned silent.

He doesn’t wait for me to respond, grabbing the lube from the other side of the bed and dousing my cock with it. A soft sigh leaves me as he strokes me from root to tip, getting me impossibly hard before climbing over me and straddling my waist.

And just like that, I’m brought back to reality. Nervous energy floods me, and I grab his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze.

“Have you ever—”

“Once,” is all he says before he reaches behind him with one hand, the other resting on my chest for balance. A brief flicker of pain crosses his face when he must slip a finger or two past his rim. My chest aches at the sight of it. But soon enough, pleasure takes over his features before he abruptly stops to position my cock at his entrance

I can tell from the set of his jaw, he’s about to sink down on me without a second thought, but I stop him before he does. My hands latch onto his waist, holding him in a hover over me.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

He shakes his head. “No talking, Quinn. I promise, I want this.”

Something in his expression is unreadable, but there’s one thing I can tell with absolute certainty. He’s telling the truth.

This is something he wants. Something he wantsfrom me.

And I’ll be damned if I can deny him a fucking thing anymore.

“Okay,” I whisper, releasing my hold on his hips.

He takes it as permission to proceed, and without another moment to second guess his decision, he drops down onto my cock, impaling himself with half the length on the first go. And he makes no sign of stopping until I’m fully seated inside him.

“Shit,” he hisses through clenched teeth. The hand resting on my chest balls into a fist as he pauses all movement, adjusting to my intrusion.

“You good?” I ask, though I’m not sure why. I’m barely holding it together myself down here, the tight sheath of his ass gripping and clamping around my cock making it nearly impossible not to come on the spot.

A sharp exhale leaves him and he nods. Shifting his pelvis, he rises up before sinking back down on me all over again.

“Oh, my fuck,” I murmur. “You’re gonna kill me by the end of this.”

His tongue darts out over his bottom lip, a lusty, potent look in his eyes. “Now you know how it feels every time I’m inside you.”

Do I fucking ever. It’s like dying and going straight to my own filthy heaven.

He finds a rhythm quickly, every rise and drop of his hips drawing out more pleasure from me until I can’t possibly take any more.

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