Page 82 of Iced Out

Oak nods and offers me a smile before grabbing my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I keep hold of him as I drag him up the stairs, the heaviness in my chest quickly subsiding as we near the only place I care about bringing him.

My bedroom.

Pushing the door open, I lead him into my only sanctuary as a kid; complete with twelve-foot ceilings, wall-to-wall windows, and a massive, king-size bed in the center of the room.

“Thisis your room?” he says slowly, eyes taking in the space.

And yeah, it’s nice. Big and spacious, lots of light during the day.

But it’s cold. No photos or memorabilia anywhere in sight. It’s been that way since I left for college. My parents had Marta clear out the room, box up all the things I didn’t take, and shove it in the corner of the walk-in closet off to the left of the en-suite.

Now it’s just another one of their five guest rooms, any traces of my existence wiped clean from the space.

Oakley’s expression gives little away as he looks around the room, but from the set of his spine, stiff and rigid, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. But rather than mentioning it, he crosses the room back to me, a seductive smirk on those sinful lips, and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Are you planning to let me do dirty, despicable things to you in your childhood bedroom?”

My teeth scrape over my bottom lip. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

One hand shifts up to the back of my neck, pulling me in until our lips are a breath apart. “Good, because I think I’m ready to claim my prize from our race.”

He doesn’t give me time to think, his mouth slamming to mine with a ferocity like no other. His tongue prods at the seam of my lips before sliding through to find mine. They twist and mate together while his fingers anchor into my hair, and he uses his grip to tilt my head, gaining better access to pillage my mouth as he sees fit.

He holds me so tight against him, I can barely breathe.

Or maybe he’s stolen all the oxygen in the room.

He breaks our kiss far too soon for my liking, and I try to reel him in for more, but he shakes his head.

“Strip,” he murmurs against my mouth.

I’m almost ashamed by how quickly I rip my body from his and shed my clothes. Within a blink of an eye, I’m down to only my underwear. Oakley’s not far behind, naked from the waist up and already working his belt open.

After shucking my last remaining layer of decency, my hands are on him. Unbuckling the damn belt, I shove his pants and underwear down in a single fell swoop. I go with them, my knees crashing to the floor, about ready to take his thick cock in my mouth when he wraps his palm around it, effectively keeping me from getting a taste.

“What the—”

“Not happening,” he scolds, pulling me back to my feet with his free hand. “It’s my prize, remember? Now get on the bed.”

Fucking hell. Leave it to him to wanna claim that shit at the most inopportune time.

And if this is gonna go anything like the shower did, I doubt I’m gonna survive it.

He practically throws me onto the giant mattress, sending pillows flying from impact before he covers my body with his own.

And then, with absolutely zero dexterity or self-control, we maul each other.

Oakley’s lips trail down my throat, biting and nipping along the way. My hands anchor in his hair, his grab me by the hips, and we grind our bodies together. The ache in my balls is already present, and I know it’ll be too much to bear soon.

I capture his lips again, spearing between them to take needy pulls of his tongue. He meets me with his own carnal lust, dragging moans and pants from deep within my chest as his hips rock against mine.

I’m enamored by him. Touch, taste, scent. All of it.

Every part of me craves every piece of him.

Shifting again, he positions his cock between my cheeks and slowly ruts against my skin and the silken sheets below. A slight flutter of panic races through me when his crown brushes against my hole. But still, the want and desire are there.

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