Page 52 of Iced Out

“You fucking killed it tonight,” he says, grabbing the arm of my suit jacket and hauling me to him until we’re chest to chest. “I think we’re gonna be celebrating more than anything tonight.”

“Oh, really?” I counter, setting my duffle on the desk.

He gives me ayou’re kidding melook, brows arched so high, they might as well be in his hairline. “You don’t think your third hat trick of the season is something to celebrate?”

“It definitely is.” My blood heats as he helps me out of my jacket and tosses it to the bed. “But it’s awfully forward to think I’d want to celebrate with you.”

A smirk sits on his lips as he works to open my shirt buttons. “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t a little too sure of myself, right, Reed?”

He’s got me there.

Hell, he’s been unruffled by this entire thing between us, which is more than I can say for most baby bi’s I’ve known through the years. The couple I’ve been with in the past—and the reason I made it a rule not to get with them anymore—were always hesitant in making moves or acting on instinct, the whole “is this too gay for me” thought usually causing them to falter. And not that I can blame them, but it usually takes away from the whole hook-up.

It’s never happened with Quinton. Not once.

He’s taken everything I’ve thrown at him in stride, unfazed at each turn, and usually ends up asking for more when it’s all over. Which only adds to his ridiculous amount of sex appeal.

“You might have a point.”

He tosses my shirt to the bed with my jacket before starting on his own clothes. “I know I do. Just like it’s something you like about me.”

Nail on the head.

“I wouldn’t go that far with it,” I say, trying to play off his comment.

Disbelief crosses his features. “The tent pitched in your pants begs to differ.”

And would you look at that, he’s right. The traitorous appendage between my legs made me a liar.

“I’m gay and you’re an attractive man currently stripping in front of me. Of course I’m going to get hard.”

“The only reason?” he counters, now shirtless and working the belt free from the loops. “Pure, carnal instinct? Nothing else?”

My cock throbs behind the zipper of my slacks, and not just because Quinton is now down to only his underwear. Apparently, his taunting is yet another thing capable of turning me on.

“Nope. Nothing el—”

“Just shut up, Oakley.”

Without any preamble, he hauls me in from the back of my neck until our lips collide. His tongue teases along the seam, coaxing me to open. The second I do, it’s an all-out war.

He fucks his talented tongue against mine, and my dick grows impossibly harder in my pants. Aching to be released from its confines and have its own turn with Quinton’s mouth.

“Fuck,” I mutter, anchoring my fist in his hair as I explore his throat. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know, but believe me, the feeling’s mutual.” His hands coast down my back, and he arches his neck into where my lips are brushing against his skin. “Is it weird to say I’ve missed you?”

I grin before moving to capture his bottom lip between my teeth. “You’ve been with me almost all day.”

Though I have to admit, I understand completely. The time we’ve been spending together has become this weird security blanket, and it’s becoming a bit of a problem.

I guess it’s more than just the sex that’s addictive. He is too.

“I’ve missedyou.” His arm snakes between us, palming my cock through my pants. With a naughty smirk resting on his lips, he lifts his gaze to meet mine. “I’m planning to fucking worship this tonight.”

I hum, my hips seeking more friction from his hand. “Using me for sex, de Haas?”

He chuckles, a dimple popping in his cheek, and I nip at it. “Could be using you for a lot worse things.”

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