Page 41 of Iced Out

I expected words. A simple yes or no to be his answer. But instead, he leans down, closing the gap between us with a single move until our lips meet for the second time tonight.

The action alone surprises me, but not as much as the soft, sweeping pressure of his mouth. It’s slow and tentative, his kiss, when I was expecting something more brash to match the recklessness I’ve come to associate with Quinton.

It’s the complete opposite of the way we went at each other back in the locker room.

But sweet and gentle don’t last longer than thirty seconds before he asks for more.

One hand anchors in my hair, tilting my head back before tracing the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips. They part automatically, and the first swipe of his tongue against mine is a taser to the balls, sending me into action.

All nerves gone thanks to the taste of his tongue, my arm wraps around his waist as I pull him into me more. Closer and closer, until not an inch of space separates our bodies. Until my back lands against the leather cushion, dragging him down with me and giving my earlier fantasy life.

Until I’m consumed by his touch, his taste. Just him.

My hands work their way beneath his shirt, dancing up and down the smooth expanse of his back. He shudders under the touch, goosebumps rising along his skin, and for whatever reason, I find the slight sign of vulnerability even sexier.

Quinton’s tongue rolls against mine in time with his hips while his thumb runs the line of my jaw in a feather-light touch. Still keeping a touch of sweetness amidst the ferocity he kisses me with, and I realize it’s the very thing putting me more at ease. I have no idea how he knows it’ll help keep me from losing my shit and bolting, or if maybe it’s a coincidence.

Either way, it makes my heart pound harder in my chest.

Our mouths stay damn near glued together as we pick up where we left off earlier tonight. Clothes make it harder, forcing us to settle for sneaking under waistbands, groping asses, and shamelessly exploring each other as best we can.

But it’s not enough for me.

From the way Quinton’s eyes smolder like two balls of blue fire when he rips his mouth away, it’s not enough for him either. Not even close.

“If that didn’t make my answer obvious, I’m okay with kissing,” he pants against my lips. “So fucking okay with it.”

We both groan when he presses his hips into me, the thick ridge of his cock rubbing against my own erection. The pressure combined with the heat of his mouth lingering a breath away has me burning from the inside out.

“And from the feel of it” —he rolls his hips into mine again— “so are you.”

Okay with it?

Um, yeah. To repeat his sentiment, I’m so fucking okay with it.

“You’re ridiculously good at that,” I murmur, nipping at his throat because I’mobsessedwith it. “Like, how? You’ve been into dudes for all of five minutes.”

“Mmm, yes, that you know of,” he teases, fingers tweaking one nipple beneath my shirt. And again, that one little action goes straight to my balls. “But sex is sex, Reed. I don’t need experience with a dude to know how to dry-hump one. I know what feels good to me, so it’s a safe bet it’ll feel good to you too.”

I pull back enough to meet his gaze, floored by what he just said. “And you just applied the same theory to blow jobs?”

He gives me a sheepish look. “Yeah, am I wrong?”

I laugh and shake my head, pulling him back in for another searing kiss and slipping my hands back into his sweats. Gripping at the firm muscle in each palm, I let my fingers drift in closer to his crease while he fucks my mouth with his tongue some more. I expect him to flinch or shy away when my middle finger brushes against his rim, but he just moans with pleasure and kisses me harder.

So, I push further.

We said no anal, which is fine. As someone who tops ninety percent of the time, I can respect that. But maybe he’s down for some backdoor play not involving my cock. Slowly, I press my finger against the tight ring, massaging the opening lightly as I thrust up into him.

“Fuck,”he groans, ripping his mouth away from mine. His eyes burn with lust as he pants out, “You. Me. Bedroom. Now.”

I lick my lips and smirk, kneading his ass in my palm. “You think you’re the one in charge here, de Haas?”

Our gazes lock in challenge, the way they usually do when we’re about to enter one of our verbal sparring matches. The grin on his face is filthy, full of delicious, sinful promises.

“Until you show me differently? Yeah, I think I am.”

He doesn’t give me a second to form a rebuttal, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down the hall toward his room.

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