Iced Out (Leighton U Book 1)

We won the first winter break game by a landslide, and the second one tonight is no different. I’m running on an adrenaline high, having gotten my first hat trick all season, and to top it off, Coach called me into his office to talk after the game about agents.

Specifically, ones asking about me. Something I hoped would happen eventually, but now that it actually is…I honestly can’t even believe it.

By the time I’m out of Coach’s office, my head’s so high in the damn clouds, I don’t even notice the locker room is close to being abandoned.

Well, shit.

My eyes automatically search for Oakley—they always seem to lately—but I come up empty.

Double shit.

I have no idea what his plans are tonight, let alone for the next few days until the new semester starts, but I’d like to find out. The only issue is Coach pulled me in the office to chat before I could mention meeting up over the rest of our break.

And I wanna see him. Tonight, especially. Celebrate another well-earned win. Grab a couple drinks at a bar or something. Maybe even tell him about the meeting with Coach, where he mentioned the agents asking about me.

Pulling my phone from my stall, I send him a quick text.

Me: Wanna see you. You still here?

A couple minutes pass while I finish undressing, but when I check my phone again, there’s no response.

He could be driving, sure, but I doubt he was able to shower, change, and get out of here in the time I was in Coach’s office. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.

Then again, half the team is already gone—probably ready to get back to their families for the rest of the break.

I wrap my towel around my waist, ready to head toward the showers when Camden rounds the corner and starts packing his stuff in his duffle on the bench across from me. Pretty sure he’s the last one in here besides me.

And while it might be risky, if there’s anyone I could ask about Oakley to, it’d be him.

Hopefully.

Only one way to find out…

Clearing my throat, I look up at the goalie and do my best to act casual.

“Hey, Cam?”

He glances up at me from his spot on the bench, dark blond hair flopping into his eyes. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

“Did you happen to see if Reed left already?”

His brows furrow for a second, but he schools his expression quickly. “Don’t think so. Last I saw, he was walking into the showers. That was maybe…five minutes ago. Why?”

“Just need to talk to him about something before we go back on break. Nothing serious.”

Lies, lies, lies.

He takes a moment, measuring my words before he rises to stand, responding when he tosses the duffle strap over his shoulder. “Pretty sure he went to the last stall. If he’s not there anymore, he can’t be further than the parking lot.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks,” I say awkwardly.

“Course. Have a good one. And great game tonight, by the way.”

I give him a nod. “Yeah, you too, man.”

And with that, he grabs his keys and heads out the door.

I make a discreet sweep of the locker room as I walk toward the showers, noting there’s more guys here than I originally thought. Maybe four or five.

And when I notice the only shower running is the one at the very end—the one Camden mentioned seeing Oak go into—I might as well be shot up with adrenaline.

I don’t even have to see the guy. Just picturing him naked, surrounded by steam. Dripping wet and covered in soap, and Jesus, I need get ahold of myself before I do something stupid. Like get in there with him. Run my hands all over his sinful body.

That’s what I want, though.

I want it so much, I don’t even think of the repercussions of someone seeing me going into his stall, or worse, having it not be his stall at all.

It takes me all of two seconds to decide the odds are in my favor, glance around to see the coast is clear, and pull the handle on the frosted glass door.

Thank God they didn’t put locks on these damn things.

Luck is on my side, because as I slip in and silently close the door behind me, I find Oakley standing under the spray of water. Even with his back facing me, I know it’s him. At this point, I’d recognize that ass anywhere, complete with a little dimpled indent above each cheek.

Hanging my towel on the hook next to his, I step under the spray behind him.

“Wha—”

My palm clasps over his mouth to silence the what the fuck about to leave it. Loudly. And I didn’t make this whole effort to not be seen, only for him to blow our cover.

“Shh,” I murmur into his ear. “It’s just me.”

Releasing my hand from over his mouth, I let it slide down over his shoulder before stepping away. He spins around to face me, eyes wide, and a look falling somewhere between stern and pissed off crosses his face.

“Are you insane? What’re you doing in here?”

Not exactly the response I was hoping for, though I don’t know why I expected anything less.

“Being reckless,” I surmise with a playful smirk.

He wipes the water from his face and shakes his head, a mixture of irritation and panic painting his expression. “Someone could’ve seen you.”

“Just relax,” I soothe, keeping my voice low. “I checked to make sure no one saw. Most of them are gone already as it is, and by the time I’m nice and squeaky clean, they all will be.”

He gives me a wary look, one clearly stating he doesn’t believe me.

“I promise, it’ll be fine. Just keep your voice down and no one will be the wiser.”

It takes a second, but for once, he nods. The tension in his shoulders melts away before my eyes, and he lets out a sigh.

“You scared the crap outta me,” he says, his voice a gruff whisper.

I let out a soft laugh and step into his space, my hands itching to touch him. “I had no idea.”

“Okay, smartass.”

I grin more as he grabs the body wash, handing it over to me. He watches for a second as I lather the soap in my palms before he steps out from under the spray. Thinking he’s about to dry off and leave—which makes little to no sense if he’s concerned about blowing our cover—I pivot.

“Stay. Less likely for people to catch us,” I say, not letting myself second-guess the reasoning. Because as much truth is behind it, I just want to be near him and in his presence. Feel the electricity humming between us whenever we’re this close to each other.

I’m already as addicted to that feeling as I am to being on the ice.

“You think I’m about to pass up this show?” A slow smile creeps over his lips as his eyes rake up and down my naked body. “Not a chance, de Haas. I was just getting out of the way to get a better view.”

My cock perks up at the want dripping in his voice, and I’m instantly filled with annoyance about the other guys still milling around the locker room.

Not that we’d be fooling around even if it was empty.

Oakley’s been a stickler with this hooking up stuff, and since we don’t have a game tomorrow, neither of us will be getting off. With each other, at least, because I know he won’t touch me tonight. Even if I begged him to take me in his fist or his mouth, he wouldn’t.

But from the way I feel him staring at me while I lather his body wash over my chest, it’s clear I’m gonna have to partake in some solo action when I get home later. He’s got me all kinds of keyed up from looking alone.

Watching like a voyeur.

And apparently he’s into it, because his cock thickens as my hands move down to my crotch, cleaning my own dick. I fight the temptation to start stroking, but only just.

Waves of want and desire flow through me at breakneck speeds. It’s so strong, I have to turn away from him to rinse off. Turn away so I can’t see the need written on his face or the way his cock—hard and standing at attention—waits for me to drop to my knees.

My eyes sink closed as I try to rein myself in.

Damn him.

Damn him for being so fucking…hard to resist.

To the point where I don’t even know why I’m bothering—

“I’m fucking obsessed with this,” he mutters, cutting into my thoughts. His fingertips trace over the lines of the tattoo covering most of my back in a featherlight touch. “It’s so sexy.”

The grin taking over my face is instant, even though he can’t see it.

It’s not the first time I’ve caught Oakley looking at my ink by any means—he’s asked me about plenty of them—but he’s never voiced his opinion on them before. And call me vain, but it feels good.

Two large hands slide over my wet skin, down each side until they reach my hips, leaving trails of heat in their wake that have nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

“I thought you were staying in here to watch?” I point out.

“Couldn’t without touching you.”

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 I want 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.

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.

My prostate.

Also known as the key to an orgasm capable of sending me to another fucking dimension.

And holy shit, it does. Every single time Oakley’s touched the damn thing, I came buckets. Gallons, even, and harder and longer than I ever have with anyone else. I’m at that point already, and just from one fucking pass of his cock against it. I can’t go back to his fingers after feeling this.

“Fuck, right there,” I moan again when he swipes over it again, my head falling back against his shoulder. “More, Oak.”

He continues sinking into me slowly while I slide through his fist, the most exquisite kind of pressure filling and constricting me at the same time. It’s overwhelming, and it continues to hurtle me toward the edge of a cliff I’m desperate to jump from. One leading to pure fucking nirvana.

The noises he manages to rip straight from my chest are nothing short of animalistic. Like there’s no human left in me, just pure, carnal need.

“God, listen to you,” he rasps, the deep cadence of his voice strained. “So fucking needy for me, and I’ve barely given you anything.”

He’s right. If this is what he can do with only the head of his cock? I have no doubts he’ll reduce me to a panting, moaning mess with the whole thing. And if my responses are any indication, I’m sure to enjoy every second of it.

“More.” I turn my face, taking his bottom lip between my teeth and tugging. “Let me have it all.”

“Not happening.”

“Oak—”

“Ask again and I’ll stop right now.”

Goddamnit.

A wicked smile forms on his face at my silence before he brushes his lips against mine, and I don’t know if it makes me more desperate for him to fuck me like he means it or if I’d rather slap his smug-ass grin clean off his face.

But to hell if I’ll open my mouth and say a thing, because each and every pump of his hips shoots rockets of desire through my entire body, and I’m not ready for it to end.

Oakley’s free hand moves from my waist to my throat before offering a light squeeze. “Taunt me about self-control again, de Haas. I dare you. Because in the end, you’re gonna be the one who suffers.”

I’m ready to tell him it’s too late, I’m already suffering from the dire need to be fucked and filled as soon as humanly possible, but the words die on my lips as he pegs my prostate again and only a guttural groan breaks free.

My balls seize up, my cock throbbing and aching with the need to release as I pant into his mouth.

“I’m close,” he murmurs against my lips, the hand wrapped around my throat tightening slightly as he pumps his hips faster.

The back of my head connects with his shoulder, and I wrap my fist around his, helping him jack me the way I need to get me there too. Impending release barrels down my spine, and when Oakley pulls out and pushes me against the wall of the shower, I lose all control.

I barely have time to take over where he left off before cum soaks through my fingers, falling to the floor and washing down the drain at my feet. Oakley’s head lands in the crook of my neck, his teeth clamping onto my shoulder, and I know he’s not far behind me.

“Come,” I pant, my forehead pressed to the cool tile.

And he does seconds later, his release spilling across my lower back.

Marking me. Maybe even claiming me.

As much as I’d like to bask in this glow and not move for hours, I know there’s a good chance of someone coming to check the showers soon before heading out for the night. And I also know there’s exactly a hundred percent chance Oakley would never want them to discover us in here together.

So I peel my body away from his and turn to rinse his cum off my back.

He leans against the opposite wall to catch his breath, and I use the opportunity to ogle. Shamelessly, I might add.

“Guess we’re not very good at following our own rules,” I say with a laugh as the evidence of his orgasm washes down the drain at my feet. “Because I’m pretty sure we just broke every one we’ve set.”

When I glance up, Oakley’s studying me curiously.

“What?” I ask, suddenly a little more self-conscious.

“I…” He laughs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wasn’t kidding. Fuck the rules. We should toss them altogether.”

Not what I was expecting. At all. But holy hell, am I down for more of what just happened in this damn shower. So much more, my entire body vibrates with need all over again.

Jesus, I’m such a slut for this guy’s dick, it’s insane.

And there’s one sentence I never once saw myself thinking, but here we are.

“Even the part where we don’t tell anyone?”

He bites his lip for a second, and I swear, he’s about to say yes. It doesn’t last long, though, before he shakes his head. “I think it’s safer if that one stays. But…fucking hell, I’m fine with doing whatever, whenever. Screw the before game only rule.”

“I like this idea. Especially if it involves more screwing.”

His eyes flare with heat, gaze tracking down my body and back up again before landing on where his teeth sank into my shoulder. Where I have no doubt he left a mark, the same way I did to him at one time.

“Now what? Admiring your handiwork?”

“No. I was actually just thinking…I definitely want inside that ass again. For real, next time.” A pause, then, “As long as you’re okay with it.”

“Okay with it?” I echo, swapping places with him and stepping out from under the spray. I grab my towel off the hook to dry off and glance back at him, surprised to see…he’s actually questioning whether or not I want more.

My arms cross over my chest. “I was literally just begging you to fuck me, and you think I’m about to call take-backs?”

He frowns, rinsing his stomach and dick off. “Really, Quinn? Take-backs? Are we five now?”

The grin that spreads out over my face when hearing the nickname can’t be helped. It makes me feel…weirdly affectionate toward him. Even after he just insinuated I’m a fucking kindergartener.

And he must be taken aback too, because he’s staring at me like I’ve sprouted two more heads.

“Why’re you smiling like that?” He waves his hand in front of my face, and it only makes me grin more. “Jesus, did I break you or something? If just the tip did this, I hate to see what you’re like after I fuck you for real.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Trust me, I can handle it. It’s just…” My brows furrow, and I lick my lips. “You called me Quinn.”

He frowns deeper before slowly asking, “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Not to you. You only call me de Haas. Or Quinton, sometimes.”

He’s silent for a moment, then his laugh sends cool shivers running through me. “Huh, I guess you’re right. Leave it to you to ruin my orgasm high by making me think about what I call you in the moment. Maybe I’ll go with asshole next time.”

I smirk, shaking out my hair. “Quinn’s fine.”

“No, no. I’ll think of something better. Something more creative.”

“I’m serious—”

“What about dickweed? That’s a great term of endearment, right?”

I let out a sigh and repeat myself, thinking maybe he’ll hear me this time. “You can call me Quinn, okay? It’s just that no one really does.”

“You’re telling me no one shortens your name to the most obvious option? Seriously?”

I shrug as I wrap the towel around my waist. “Yeah. I’ve always been an athlete, so it’s always been de Haas. Or some of my high school friends, like Hayes, usually call me Q.”

A low chuckle comes from behind me again, followed by kiss after kiss being peppered against the top of my spine. “Good. I don’t want to call you what everyone else calls you. Takes the fun out of it.”

“Oh, so you know what fun is now?”

He grips both of my shoulders and spins me around. “Yeah, I do. Because I had a ton of it a few minutes ago.”

“So that’s fun? I thought you said it was reckless. Or was it insane?”

“I called you insane. Which you clearly are, sneaking into my shower.” He pauses for a second, a smile sliding on his face before adding, “Babe.”

I burst out laughing, letting my face fall into his shoulder. “Please, just shut up. Before I make you.”

“Mmm.” He chuckles more, curling his hand around the back of my neck. “Then maybe you should kiss me.”

I can’t stop the way my heart ratchets in my chest when he kisses me instead.