Page 47 of Iced Out Mate

And again, and again, and again.

And so I decided I’d wait for Dylan with my ass up for him. It was getting close to eight. I texted him to tell me when he was on his way up. With the whole stalker thing, I didn’t exactly want to leave my door unlocked for longer than necessary. It was slightly dangerous and maybe stupid, but my overly full balls and my intense desire to have them emptied by my mate were clouding my judgment.

My phone dinged. He’d be up in a couple of minutes. I finished up preparing. I had even squirted a little bit of lube on my fingers and prepped my hole for him. I didn’t want a lot of foreplay tonight. I just wanted him taking me, giving me what I craved.

Himself. His cock. His seed.

All of him.

I spritzed a cologne on the back of my neck and went to the door. I could hear that the hall was empty. I cracked it open and stuck the lock outside so that it stayed open. With that done, I dimmed the lights and got onto the bed on all fours. I grabbed a pillow and used that to rest my head against. The cool air of the AC blew through the room and made the thin white curtains dance in the invisible current. I was already rock-hard.

I’d never done this before. Never waited for someone like this. Completely exposed and completely ready. Watching him play today had driven me over the edge and made something like this possible. Otherwise I may have been a little more conservative.

But fuck that. It was time to be raw. I wanted Dyl to see how badly I needed him. I didn’t want him doubting a single thing.

A couple minutes passed until I heard the door opening. I didn’t have to worry or wonder who it was. “Hello?” Dylan asked as he stepped in the room. “Oh, hello,” he said the second he spotted me displayed for him.

I gave my hips a wiggle and looked over my shoulder. He was freshly showered, wearing a sleeveless Bobcats jersey and long black athletic shorts. They were both on the floor in record time. “Are you going to be waiting for me like this every time we win a game?” Dylan asked as he walked up behind me. His big hands caressed my ass, spreading my cheeks as he rubbed his already leaking cock head against my hole.

“Figured you could use some positive reinforcement,” I joked as my eyes rolled back from the sensation of his cock slowly pushing inside me.

Clearly he didn’t want to waste much time getting to the main event, either.

“What if we lose?”

“Then you have to be in the hotel waiting for me like this.”

“Sounds good,” he said, laughing.

Truth was, I was dying to fuck Dylan. I wanted it all with him. But I wanted this more than anything. For tonight, it would be me giving myself to him, taking him inside me.

Maybe tomorrow it could be reversed.

Hell, maybe later tonight.

“Oh fuck,” I hissed as Dylan pushed inside me. A slight burn mixed with pleasure. I fisted the sheets. He had a thick one, which meant he had to go slow at first. But Dyl knew how to use the tools he was blessed with.

He slowed, leaning down, kissing the back of my neck. “Mmm, you smell good.”

“Thanks,” I said, getting a whiff of the coconut and vanilla shampoo he had just used. “You do too.”

“Did you see me score those goals?” he asked into my ear, licking my lobe, cock pushing in deeper.

“I did,” I said through a moan. “You killed it tonight.”

“I kept thinking about impressing you. Whenever I’d look over and see you cheering for me”—he sank in another inch, then another—“it made me work harder. Play smarter.”

“So I wasn’t a distraction?”

“You used to be,” Dylan said, leaning back, his hands on my hips. “Now you’re the prize.”

“Mmm, I love hearing that. You’re such a good boy, taking my hole like that. That’s it.”

Calling Dyl a ‘good boy’ must have done something to him because he thrust into me harder, deeper, grunting his pleasure. I decided to try it again.

“Fuck yeah. Be a good boy for me and fuck me good. Make my legs shake. Make my cock drip.”

“Oh, Miles, fuck.”