Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(55)

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.

It should be enough to make an excuse for not having sex with my stupidly hot teammate. The guy I’m so in lust with, I can’t think straight. Or be straight, either.

But it doesn’t matter.

“Please,” I pant, pushing back toward him more. “Put me outta my misery. For the love of fucking God.”

“No condom.”

“You know we’ve both been cleared,” I say in rebuttal, knowing there’s no reason we can’t go without. Especially when the situation is this dire.

“True. And I’m sure sinking into you barrier-free will be nothing short of heaven. But we don’t have lube either.” He brushes a kiss on the back of my neck. “I’m not about to fuck you for the first time with body wash. That shit will sting like a motherfucker.”

My heart hammers in my chest, ricocheting against my ribs, and if I wasn’t so stupidly turned on, I’d come to my senses enough to say anything other than what I do next.

“Just do the tip. Give me something. Fuck.”

A stifled laugh comes from him, the heat of his breath against my skin sending lightning bolts down my spine. “Just the tip? Is that what you used to tell all those puck bunnies?”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “Actually, you’d be the first.”

Something about my answer lights a fire in his eyes. They burn with smoldering intensity I’ve only ever seen from him on the ice.

“You wanna play Just the Tip with me, de Haas?” Oakley arches a brow at me as he presses the head of his cock against my ass more. Enough to feel the rim stretching again, and God, if I don’t welcome the burn.

“I’ll take what I can get. Unless your infamous self-control can’t handle it.” My pulse pounds in my throat quick enough, I think the artery might burst. “Let’s put it to the test.”

His teeth skate along my shoulder before sinking into the muscle. The sharp bite of pain sends a zap of desire straight to my dick, making it ache for more. His mouth, his hand. His cock inside me. Anything would be better than the sheer torture he’s putting me through.

“Egging me on doesn’t work. You should know that by now.”

Well, that’s a blatant fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one, but two can play at that game.

“Mmm. But a guy can dream.”

And it might not be a dream at all. Because, to some extent, it’s working. I’m almost positive of it when I hear the telltale sound of him spitting right before I feel his fingers rubbing where his head presses against my hole.

“We’ve gotta work on your priorities if getting dicked down is high up on your list of aspirations. Now relax and let me in.”

He squeezes my shaft, rolling his thumb over the nerve just below the head, and it’s enough to ease the tension. The burn gets worse as he gives a couple more tentative thrusts before finally easing past the rim.

My ass clenches around the head like a vise, and I hiss out a low, “Fuck me.”

“Hmm,” he hums softly. “Maybe another time.”

“Or right now,” I counter, attempting to rock back into him. But his hands land on my hips, already one step ahead of me, and preventing me from taking more of him.

“Don’t move.” His tone leaves no room for debate on the matter. “If you start moving, I’ll pull right back out.”

“Fucking sadist.”

The hand around my cock squeezes again, this time hard enough to lean more toward pain than pleasure, earning him a glare. But he’s already glaring right back, brown eyes burning with more than just lust.

“You want a sadist? You want me to hurt you? Torture you? Fuck you so hard, you’re nothing but a bloody mess on the fucking tile floor afterward? Because that’s exactly what would happen if I pound into you the way you’re asking.”

“You’re already torturing me,” I pant, giving another push back, only to be immediately met with the resistance of his hold.

“You’re not ready,” he murmurs. “But I’ll make the wait worth it.”

He fucks into me slowly, stretching me with the thick head before easing back again. Each time, I beg him silently to lose control and slip in a little bit deeper. Honestly, I’m not above asking him to pound me into the shower wall; I’m that keyed up.

Fuck if I care about a little blood and pain. It makes the pleasure all the better.

But true to his word, he doesn’t do it. Doesn’t take me the way we both want, and it’s fucking infuriating. Only once does he slide in a little bit more, and the burning sensation starts all over again. Yet, it’s gotta be one of the best types of pain I’ve ever felt.

If only he’d give me more of it.

I let out a frustrated groan, more irritated at this point than anything else. But it quickly turns into a moan when the ridge of his tip brushes over the little magic spot inside me.