“What?” I ask, not sure if I heard him right. Because I swear to God, Oakley, who might be the most top guy I’ve ever met, just asked me to—
“Fuck me, Quinn.”
Yeah, that.
Holy mother of shit.
I gape at him from my place on the bed, unclear how to respond when this has never been on the table for him. It’s not something we’ve ever discussed, and honestly, I’ve been fine with keeping it the way we have.
But apparently the guy who loves nothing more than following the rules is looking to throw every fucking one of them out tonight, leaving me stunned silent.
He doesn’t wait for me to respond, grabbing the lube from the other side of the bed and dousing my cock with it. A soft sigh leaves me as he strokes me from root to tip, getting me impossibly hard before climbing over me and straddling my waist.
And just like that, I’m brought back to reality. Nervous energy floods me, and I grab his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze.
“Have you ever—”
“Once,” is all he says before he reaches behind him with one hand, the other resting on my chest for balance. A brief flicker of pain crosses his face when he must slip a finger or two past his rim. My chest aches at the sight of it. But soon enough, pleasure takes over his features before he abruptly stops to position my cock at his entrance
I can tell from the set of his jaw, he’s about to sink down on me without a second thought, but I stop him before he does. My hands latch onto his waist, holding him in a hover over me.
“Shouldn’t we talk about this?”
He shakes his head. “No talking, Quinn. I promise, I want this.”
Something in his expression is unreadable, but there’s one thing I can tell with absolute certainty. He’s telling the truth.
This is something he wants. Something he wants from me.
And I’ll be damned if I can deny him a fucking thing anymore.
“Okay,” I whisper, releasing my hold on his hips.
He takes it as permission to proceed, and without another moment to second guess his decision, he drops down onto my cock, impaling himself with half the length on the first go. And he makes no sign of stopping until I’m fully seated inside him.
“Shit,” he hisses through clenched teeth. The hand resting on my chest balls into a fist as he pauses all movement, adjusting to my intrusion.
“You good?” I ask, though I’m not sure why. I’m barely holding it together myself down here, the tight sheath of his ass gripping and clamping around my cock making it nearly impossible not to come on the spot.
A sharp exhale leaves him and he nods. Shifting his pelvis, he rises up before sinking back down on me all over again.
“Oh, my fuck,” I murmur. “You’re gonna kill me by the end of this.”
His tongue darts out over his bottom lip, a lusty, potent look in his eyes. “Now you know how it feels every time I’m inside you.”
Do I fucking ever. It’s like dying and going straight to my own filthy heaven.
He finds a rhythm quickly, every rise and drop of his hips drawing out more pleasure from me until I can’t possibly take any more.
“Fuck, baby, look at you. You take my cock so well,” I murmur, watching as he impales himself on my length. The sight alone is so erotic, it’ll probably live rent-free in my head for the rest of my damn life.
A sensual grin crosses his face when I roll my fist over the head of his cock, and his head drops back like he’s staring up at the stars. Except the only ones he’s seeing right now are behind his eyelids as I drive up into him at the same time he drops down onto me.
“Do that again,” he demands, arching his hips forward to seek more of my touch.
I do as he asks, twisting my wrist around the crown of his cock, lavishing it with attention as he quickens his pace.
“Trying to top from the bottom there, Oak?” I pant, lost in the way he’s moving over me. Completely enthralled by him.
Another grin appears on his lips, this one more playful. “Technically that’s what you’re doing.”
Well, we can’t have that, can we?
One hand moves to behind his neck, the other latching tighter on his hip before I flip us without warning, all while keeping my dick buried deep inside him. His back hits the mattress below us with a thud, and a low groan rumbles from deep within his chest.
“Good?”
I pull back to search his face for signs of pain, but he offers me a nod of assurance as he grips my bicep for dear life.
“Holy shit, yes. Fucking perfect,” he whispers as I roll my hips into him again.
My hips piston into him again, the new position not letting me go as deep, but it must peg his prostate just right from the euphoric expression on his face. All lips parted and hazy-eyed, like he’s dick drunk on my cock.
“Good. Then fuck your fist, baby. I’m not gonna last much longer.”
His fingers curl around his shaft at my command, stroking his length in time with every thrust. I watch his face as he takes himself higher, edging closer to the promise of release. Soft pants leave him with every pump of my hips, turning into full out gasps when the head of my cock brushes against his prostate some more, lighting him up from the inside out.
It’s intoxicating, seeing him like this.
My hand wraps around the top of the headboard as I drive into him, grabbing his waist with the other hand. I anchor him in place as I take everything he has to give, and he doesn’t fight me on it. Doesn’t protest as I take control from him. And it’s crazy to see the guy who loves to have a hold over every situation, with his rules and regulations, hand the reins to me without a second thought.
It’s trust and respect, and earning those things from him is a feeling like no other.
“God, I can’t wait to feel you clenching around me when you come,” I growl, my hips snapping up into his harder as I find my rhythm. “It’s gonna be fucking amazing.”
It already is amazing. Everything about this moment is utter perfection, and while I’m growing more and more desperate for release, I also never want it to end.
I could stay here, just like this, wrapped up in him forever.
“Oh, fuck. Right there,” he utters as I swipe over his prostate again. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as I continue brushing against it, the pace of his fist moving over his cock becoming more hasty and erratic.
He’s wrecked beneath me. Ruined in a way I never thought I’d see.
And he’s never been more perfect.
The need to kiss him becomes overwhelming, and I close the gap between us, taking his lips in the same way I’m taking his body. Methodically. Thoroughly. Leaving no part untouched.
“Come for me, baby,” I coax, my lips a whisper against his. “Come.”
Oakley’s mouth crashes back into mine at my command, once again fighting for dominance, while still relinquishing his control. A sharp twinge of pain sends a bolt of lust straight to my cock when his teeth sink into my bottom lip until he draws blood.
It’s ruthless and carnal, yes.
But it’s also us.
My tongue flicks over the wound, the coppery tang flooding my mouth as his own dives past my lips for another taste. He invades my every sense as we grind and thrust and fight and fuck. I might be the one inside him, but he might as well be the one exploring every single inch of me.
“Fuck,” he utters on a tortured breath, his head thudding back against the pillow as he reaches the point of no return. Baring his teeth, he strokes faster and harder until cum jets from his cock, covering his hand and stomach. He works himself through the orgasm, his ass constricting around me, sending me into a spiral of my own. Heading into freefall, the tension at the base of my spine builds and builds until it can’t possibly anymore.
And then I shatter.
Break.
Completely fall apart as I lose myself inside him.
My orgasm slams into me at full speed, my cock almost bursting at the seams as I fill him with my cum. He clenches around me, drawing out my climax until I’m left a panting, breathless mess above him.
Exhaustion takes hold of me, and I collapse over his body. Too high on my orgasm and him to hold myself up any longer. His release spreads where our torsos connect, mixing with the sheen of sweat coating our bodies.
I kiss him once. Twice. Three times before dropping my forehead to rest against his, our breaths mixing in the sliver of space between our lips as we float back to Earth.
“You’ve just given me keys to a goddamn kingdom,” I whisper against his lips. “You know that, right?”
A husky laugh comes from him. “Don’t be getting any ideas.”
Oh, but I’m full of ideas now. After that, how can’t I be?
But with all these ideas comes errant thoughts. Ones I know I shouldn’t be having. Not post-sex, not ever. Not when it comes to the way I feel about Oakley. Because I shouldn’t be feeling anything for him. Certainly not the emotion currently cycling through my bloodstream like a drug.
Three naughty words sit on the tip of my tongue, begging to be said. Waiting for me to breathe life into them by letting them break free from the solitude of my brain.
But I can’t do it.
Falling in love wasn’t part of the deal. Hell, I was the one who went and told him not to fall in love with me, yet here I am doing exactly that. Catching feels in a fuck-buddy relationship, like a goddamn amateur.
And while we might’ve tossed out rules left and right, I doubt this is something we can overlook. Not for long, or I’ll risk shattering my own heart for a few minutes of temporary bliss.
So I keep those naughty, errant thoughts locked up tight and do my best to throw away the key before they ever see the light of day.
I place a soft, lingering kiss to his lips before pulling free. It takes an obscene amount of effort to peel my body off the bed and away from him, but somehow, I manage. He’s quick to follow, rising off the bed in search of a towel to clean up.
And I have to admit, the view of my cum leaking from him, dripping down his leg as he wipes off his stomach is…fucking unreal.
“Are you planning to force me into cuddling?” he asks.
When I don’t answer right away, he turns, only to find me staring at his ass. It takes a minute for me to remove my gaze from the creamy white liquid marking his skin, giving him my full attention.
“Absolutely,” I tell him, slipping back into my underwear like I wasn’t caught ogling my handiwork. “There’s no way you’re getting out of it after that.”
He just smirks and rolls his eyes as he continues wiping himself down.
I continue preparing for bed, piling my clothes together and shoving them into my bag before peeling back the covers. The action causes the bottle of lube still sitting on the bed to fly to the floor, and I snag it. The nightstand where he grabbed it from earlier is still partially open, and I’m about to drop it back where it belongs when I notice something inside the drawer.
A pill bottle.
The golden yellow prescription kind, with maybe one or two tablets left inside.
My hand shakes as I lift it from the drawer to read the label.
I find all the usual information on it, Oakley’s name, his doctor’s name—the team doctor, actually—and the name of the drug.
Vicodin.
Which I happen to know is…an opioid.
