Page 68 of Iced Out

His lips skate over my shoulder and up my neck, tongue lapping at the water pouring over my skin. Every flick is a wicked lash, lighting my body up, turning my blood to liquid fire coursing through my veins.

I’ve been dying to touch him whenever and however I want since our day spent downtown; kissing not once, but twice, when our arrangement didn’t call for it. But it was an entirely different circumstance. It was just…a moment. The kind that presents itself and you just can’t help but take it.

All of me wants this to be one too.

“God. You drive me fucking crazy,” I groan when his teeth nip at the crook of my neck, soothing the bite with his tongue after.

“The feeling’s more than mutual.”

His mouth moves, brushing teasing kisses between my shoulder blades as he crowds into me more. The length of his cock presses against my ass, sliding right between my cheeks as his hand reaches around to grip me in his fist. I’m already harder than granite from his taunting alone, but with his hand on me and his dick right there against my ass, it’s a wonder I haven’t come already.

I turn slightly, just enough to get a look at his face. Which is a mistake, because as water pours down his cheeks in tiny rivulets and cascades over his jaw, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more stunning.

I’m sure that’s the reason my voice comes out like shattered glass.

“What happened to the rules?”

He licks the water dripping off his parted lips. “Fuck ‘em.”

It comes out gruff and gravelly, thickened with enough lust to drown us both as his lips come crashing into mine. His tongue slips into my mouth as he rocks into me from behind, rolling his hips in time with each pass his palm makes over my cock. Long, languid strokes, like we have all the time in the world, send zaps of pleasure rippling through my body at hyper speed.

It’s a juxtaposition I’ve never experienced: the hunger and need he kisses me with paired with the leisure in his touch.

It ignites something inside me until I’m engulfed in flames and burning alive.

And I love every single second of it.

Reaching back, my fingers knot in the wet strands of his hair and I push for more. Our tongues war against each other, lashing and thrusting in time with his hips until we’re both lost in the feel of each other. But it’s not enough.

I need him inside me. And I need it right fucking now.

A groan escapes me when his thumb teases the sensitive underside of my cock, and he breaks away, returning to my skin as he continues to torture me with his hand around my dick and every seductive roll of his hips.

“Want you,” I mutter when his teeth nip at the junction of my neck and shoulder. “Want you so fucking much.”

I know he wants me too. I can feel it with the way he rocks into me, his cock slipping and sliding between my ass cheeks. Rutting against me with long, measured thrusts that have me begging for more.

More contact, more heat, more friction.

More lingering caresses and scorching kisses and harsh bites.

My entire body screams for it, and with every addictive taste or blistering touch, he unravels me further. Groping, grasping, driving me fucking wild with desire the way no one ever has before.

“How much? Because…fuck, Quinn.” He sighs, his forehead pressing between my shoulder blades. “I’m hanging by a thread here.”

“I’ve never needed something more in my life.”

The thought of him fucking me? It scares me, yeah. Maybe more than anything else in the damn world. Yet, it also sends a thrill racing through me I’ve never felt before.

It’s new and exciting, and Iwant it.

His breath comes out in hot pants against my skin as he rolls his hips again. He’s not doing more than pressing against the tight rim, but I can feel the stretch already. Like all it would take is one smooth thrust and he’d be buried inside me.

Oakley’s made me more than acquainted with my prostate over the few weeks before our break started, but only ever with his fingers. Yet all I can think about now is the head of his cock brushing against the little pleasure button while he fucks me.

I’m vibrating with anticipation, waiting for him to do just that. If he did, I can’t even say I’d be mad about it, because I want him more than I want my next breath. More than I want to prove myself to my parents.

Hell, I want him more than I want that stupid trophy at the end of the season, and that’s just insane.

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