Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(34)

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’m obsessed with 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.

“Someone doesn’t know patience.”

Once we’re through the door, he kicks it closed behind him and shoves me down onto the bed. His lips are raw from our kiss, neck red from where my stubble and teeth have been scraping at his skin, and hair on the top of his head a mess from my fingers knotting in the long, silky strands.

I don’t think he’s ever looked sexier in his life.

“Never claimed it to be one of my virtues, Reed. Now strip.”

My stomach flips when he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it in the hamper in his closet. Hard muscle and smooth skin covered in ink are exposed, and instantly, what little remains of my nerves are completely gone. In its place is a shot of adrenaline zipping straight to my dick at the sight of him half-naked.

My eyes trace and map over every inch of his body, taking in the ink covering his back and the length of his arms, trying to figure out which I want to explore first. Something I’ve never dreamed of doing with him, nor the number of filthy images currently in my head right now.

But while we’re within the parameters of this deal, there’s nothing stopping me from doing all those things to my heart’s desire.

Shedding my shirt, I toss it to the ground at the end of the bed. My hands quickly move to my belt, desire coursing through me as I struggle threading the leather out of the loops. Quinton’s already stripped down to his boxers, watching me in amusement as I fumble miserably.