His Touch of Ice Read online

  Soon, he was thrusting into me faster.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, leaning forward to adjust his weight on his knees.

  “Feels fuckin’ good, doesn’t it?” I asked in turn.

  Guy growled and leaned forward.

  He sank in.

  He bottomed out.

  I cried out in pleasure and pushed back on my knees so I could tilt my head to kiss him.

  His mouth was ravenous.

  He took hold of my hips and started to thrust into me as our tongues danced inside one another’s mouths. Our grunts were symphonic within the small room, the smell of sex and sweat pervading the space. He took hold of me and guided me back to my hands and knees until my ass was in the air and vulnerable to his ministrations. At this point, he was starting to go hard—not that I cared. I loved it so much that I was practically begging him to go harder every time he started to up the ante.

  “Roll me over,” I managed.

  He flipped me over like nothing and reentered me.

  I howled.

  “Boy,” Guy grunted, wrapping his arms around my thighs before mounting them on his shoulders. “You’re a loud one, aren’t you?”

  “Only when I’m getting fucked like this,” I managed.

  I jerked my cock with increasing speed as Guy began to really pound home. The spirals of pleasure rolling through my body were leaving my lungs breathless, my brain in a fog. I could do little more than cry out every so often and moan the rest of the time as he started long-dicking me to where his cockhead hit my prostate continuously. The mounting pressure was beginning to make my head spin.

  “Fuck,” I managed. “God… fuck.”

  “Like that dick?” Guy asked, slapping my ass as he took his legs off my shoulders and spread my legs as far as they could go. “Like that big dick inside you, Jason?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I managed.

  “Tell me how much you like it.”

  “I love it.”

  “Fuck yeah baby,” Guy managed, tossing his head back.

  “Ugh… ugh… Guh-Guy. I’m cuh-come—”

  I exploded before I could finish.

  I arched my back to meet his hard thrusts as come splattered across my stomach and all over my chest.

  “Fuck fuck fuck,” Guy managed.

  He pulled out, ripped the condom off, and jerked his dick three times before he sprayed all over my body.

  “Ugggghhhhhhhhhh,” he groaned, firing shot after shot, chest heaving and sweat running in rivulets down his chest.

  It took him nearly a minute to stop coming. By that time, he was so worn out that he simply collapsed atop me, his muscled body monstrous in comparison to my skinny frame.

  In the aftermath of our fuck, we lay there—listening to the sound of the fading Sixth Street traffic and the desperation of our slow, labored breathing. I reached up to set a hand at the small of Guy’s back and was greeted with him sliding a hand beneath my ribcage, his eyes soon seeking me out after the post-sex haze of hormones had begun to dissipate.

  “You’re fuckin’ hot,” Guy said, pressing a long, sloppy kiss to my mouth.

  “You are too,” I managed, laughing as he bowed his face into my neck and kissed my collarbone. “God… I haven’t been fucked like that in a long time.”

  “How long’s that?”

  “Six months.”

  “Damn,” the bigger man said. “I was practically breaking you in.”

  “Oh, trust me,” I chuckled, setting my head on one of his fine red pillows. “You broke something in, and I liked it—a lot.”

  Guy chuckled. He pried our sticky bodies apart before climbing off the bed, his ass offered up in glorious detail as he bent to retrieve the condom.

  “You wanna stay here tonight?” he asked, bending around the corner to toss the condom in the wastebasket.

  “The guy part of me says I’d be stupid not to,” I replied. “I just don’t want to impose.”

  “You? Imposing? After that?” Guy laughed. He extended a hand and wagged his fingers in my direction. “Come on. Let’s shower. Otherwise we’ll end up sticking to the bed.”

  Me and him, in the shower—

  The water running warm—

  His hands on my hips, his body against mine—

  His lips pressed against the curve of my neck as an icy shiver ran down my spine—

  I could’ve sworn it was all a dream.

  When I opened my eyes, I expected to find myself in my dingy little apartment—twin bed, shitty laptop, 90s-chic TV, window facing out toward a long barren street of East Austin nothing. Slowly, though, it dawned on me what had happened last night.

  I was in Mr. IceFire’s bed. And we’d fucked our brains out last night.

  I allowed my eyes to adjust to the pale gloom offered by the blood-red curtains and ran a hand through my messy hair, taking a moment to let my surroundings sink in. For its size, it was lavishly decorated, arranged in a mishmash of sleek ebony furniture and bearing various glass trinkets atop the bookshelves in the room. It was obvious his favorite color was red. From the carpet, to the curtains—even the wallpaper matched in contrasting hues, as did the separating trim done in a fine off-white hue.

  I wondered what he did to have all this.

  I turned my head, expecting to see Guy still sleeping soundly beside me, but found he was nowhere to be seen.

  I frowned.

  Where could he have gone?

  “Guy?” I asked, standing. I nearly lost my balance over how wobbly my legs still were and smiled. “Guy? Are you home?”

  Crouching, I went about gathering my clothes in preparation for what was likely to be a soon and untimely departure, cursing myself for my stupidity but rejoicing over the fact that I’d had a good time. I couldn’t deny that what I’d experienced last night was nothing short of bliss, but I had to keep reminding myself of the true and sad fact—men like Guy didn’t bring guys like me home. The fact that he’d let me sleep over was a miracle comparable to Moses parting water.

  Sighing, I pulled my boxer shorts up my legs and was just about to reach for my pants before I caught sight of a sticky note attached to the lamp on his side of the bed.

  Frowning, I navigated around the bed.

  Jason, it said.

  I plucked the note from the lampshade and lifted it to my eyes.

  Don’t leave yet. I went to get us breakfast. Be back in 30.

  —Guy

  I couldn’t have worn a stupider grin if I tried.

  Tossing the pants on the floor, I reached down, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it over my head before I went to search his apartment.

  “Hey,” Guy said.

  I looked up from my place at the bar. The gorgeous man with the hypnotic blue eyes stood in the doorway, a series of paper bags and a tray of plastic Styrofoam cups in the other.

  “Hey,” I replied.

  Guy kicked the door shut from behind him and made room for the food on the opposite side of the counter.

  “Sorry I helped myself,” I said.

  Guy took note of the glass of water seated before me and smiled. “You’re saying sorry for water?” he laughed. “We’re not in that bad a drought.”

  “I meant for wandering your apartment. Seems pretty skeevy if you ask me.”

  “To each their own,” Guy shrugged. “Besides—I wouldn’t have left you here alone if I didn’t trust you.”

  I narrowed my eyes in wayward confusion before lifting my glass and taking another sip of my water.

  “But enough of that,” Guy said. He grabbed the paper bags and began to unload their contents. “I really wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I just grabbed sausage biscuits and hashbrowns. There’s coffee and soft drinks over there.”

  “Uh… thanks?” I asked.

  Guy’s deep, raucous laugh echoed throughout the apartment. “Yeah—sorry about that. Not very often a guy buys you breakfast after he sleeps with you, huh?”

  “It wasn�
��t that,” I replied. “I was just surprised that you’d bought for both of us.”

  “Why not? You’re here, I’ve got a car, and there’s practically food around every corner. I’ll even drive you home when you decide you’re tired of hanging around here, though you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  While my immediate response was to question his motives, I didn’t push it. He seemed genuine—at least, in the sense that he wasn’t a complete asshole who was a fuck-and-dump. And he had listed ‘friendship’ on his profile, so maybe he really did want to be friends—or at least friends with benefits.

  Reaching forward, I took one of the sausage biscuits in hand and took a bite out of it, nodding as Guy passed over one of the two Styrofoam cups marked clearly with cola.

  “Thanks,” I managed through a mouthful.

  Guy nodded and dug into his own breakfast, alternating between bites of the biscuit and sips of coffee. My peculiar interest continued to lay in his eyes—which, now revealed in full color, were far more striking than they’d been last night.

  Was it a birth defect, maybe? Genetic? An injury?

  Then again, if he’d ever been injured, he sure hadn’t shown it last night.

  I blinked when I realized how caught up I’d been in his appearance and blushed when I caught his gaze on me.

  “Eyes?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I smiled. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s cool.”

  “It’s hard not to look at them. They’re beautiful.”

  “All the boys say they’re a sucker for pretty eyes,” Guy smiled, revealing perfectly-straight and white teeth. “Yours aren’t so bad yourself.”

  I laughed. “They’re gray. Not much to them.”

  “Maybe not, but how many people do you see with gray eyes?”

  I didn’t reply—not because I didn’t want to, but because I wasn’t sure how. He did have a point. It wasn’t often you saw people with a blue eye color pale enough to pass for gray.

  “Guess you’ve got a point there,” I replied.

  We finished eating breakfast and lounged about his sunroom for a while—he in a tight-fitting T and jeans, me in my T-shirt and boxers. Gentleman as he was, Guy hadn’t bothered to mention my attire, which made the situation all the more comfortable considering how awkward I already felt.

  Guy tilted his head back and let the sun strike the curve of his stubbly neck. “Nice day today,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Hey… I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Just thought I’d ask. Most guys have their Saturdays planned out.”

  “I’m more of a homebody than anything,” Guy shrugged, making the trademark stretch of the arms over the head before setting one across my shoulders. “Seriously—if I didn’t want you here, I’d’ve taken you home already.”

  “I’m just making sure.”

  “What about you? You have anything to do?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  Guy’s eyes flickered with question. I shook him off with a smile and wave of my hand.

  “Trust me—I lead a pretty boring life.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Nothing much at the moment. I’m kinda… wandering.”

  “Ah. I see.” Guy tightened his hold around my shoulders and looked toward one of the windows. “Hey—probably a stupid question, considering the circumstance, but… you wanna go out with me?”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “For drinks, dinner—just that. So we can get to know each other a little more. Yannow… beyond last night.”

  “I’m not objecting to last night,” I laughed. “Dinner would be nice, though. Anything in mind?”

  “The Texas boy in me’s thinking Tex-Mex. I know this place that has killer margaritas. And their food—God, the food. But seriously—the margaritas are where it’s at.”

  “I can get down with that,” I smiled. “Sounds good.”

  “Cool. How about, uh… tomorrow night? Eight-ish?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Ok. It’s a date.” Guy stood and offered a hand. “Also—I hate to kick you out all of a sudden, but I’m sure you have other things to do. Besides—the longer you stay here, the more I want to fuck you again.”

  I laughed and took his hand. “In due time,” I smiled. “In due time.”

  After dressing, we walked out the door and made our way toward the parking garage.

  The minute we got in the car, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d fucked up by saying that.

  He kissed me goodbye at the door to my apartment before he made his way down the stairs and to his car.

  I watched him the whole way there.

  Once the door was opened, the brutal truth of the situation was once again revealed.

  In stark contrast, my apartment was a dump. While Guy’s resembled something of an upper-class bachelor whose entirety of his high school and college existence had been spent deep in academia, mine resembled a slum house. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet was stained and yellowed, the air conditioning busted and never repaired. The walls were so thin I could hear everything from fighting to fucking to fists going in and out of walls—in a word, Hell. I’d never imagined that such a place could exist before I got kicked out of the co-op. Given it was all I could afford since those disastrous happenings, I couldn’t really complain.

  Sighing, I walked over to the mail console.

  If anything, at least I had a home.

  I opened the box.

  The first thing to pop out at me was Past Notice Due.

  Or not.

  I fought back the urge to rip the mail out of the box and toss it over the railing before shoving it under my arm and dragging it into the house.

  Upon slamming the door, I heard the all-too-familiar sound of a screw coming loose.

  “Fuck,” I groaned.

  I turned just in time to see the door bow off one hinge and then completely tear another apart.

  I could’ve screamed.

  While human services was quick to respond to my complaint about the hinge breaking for the third time in a month, they were also more than eager to charge me for the repair bill they swore was not covered under their terms of service.

  Great, I’d been so eager to think. Another bill.

  I sat in my room with the collection of bills strewn about the floor and tried to keep from looking at the things that had become the bane of my existence. Most were months old—receipts from deferments which were quickly going to have to be renewed—but others were fresh, like last month’s rent payment I’d missed due to a check bouncing and then the new one for the door.

  One-hundred, two-hundred, three-hundred, four…

  Five-thousand, fifteen-thousand, sixty-thousand, more.

  I cupped my face to my hands and rocked myself to the inevitable tune of my destruction, somehow managing not to cry but knowing that it would soon come anyway.

  All those years, all that time—all for one lazy little leech to steal it all away from me.

  Plagiarism, the head of the English department had declared, results in mandatory expulsion.

  And the whole while, Michael Kriemer had just stood by, grinning like a fool when he knew no one was looking.

  I rolled out of the bed which was in near disrepair and wandered to the window to look out at the dark side of Austin, trembling at the possibility of having to face life homeless in a state where the weather could be the death of you. Summers were bad enough—heatstroke could kill. But the winters? When it would suddenly drop from thirty to below zero without warning? Now that was a far cry from mercy. I’d much rather go to jail and be someone’s ass monkey than have to live through that.

  My phone chimed.

  I frowned.

  I crossed the distance to the bed and lifted my phone to find a message from none other than IceFire, this time in perfect English.

  Hey, it sa
id. It’s Guy. How’re you?

  The temptation to avoid the truth and just ignore the message was immense. There was no reason for me to spill my guts to a man I’d met just last night, much less slept with almost immediately thereafter.

  But something… something was there.

  I couldn’t explain it. Magnetism might’ve been the best word, but even then, that seemed stupid, considering I’d compared our attraction on the dance floor much like the same thing, or even our irresistible draw and passion when we’d fucked last night. Regardless, I felt a little coil of hope spring out in my chest—something that, though I wasn’t sure really existed, compelled me to be honest.

  Horrible, I replied. Not having the best day.

  You want to talk?

  I couldn’t tell him no.

  Guy drove up from downtown and picked me up on the corner of what I deemed was a far more feasible street before we made our way north. The whole way there, I struggled to say something—anything—to help break the ice on this embarrassing and all-too-humiliating situation, but not once did Guy press me. Instead, he pulled into the parking lot, opened the passenger seat door for me, then took my hand before walking in and taking our seats.

  The minute the waitress arrived with our drinks, Guy slid the margarita over to my side of the table and jutted his chin in my direction. “Take it.”aid.

  “I can’t drink that,” I laughed.

  “Sip it then. You look like you need it.”

  I sipped the margarita while Guy scanned the menu and sampled the offerings of chips and salsa set between us. The knots in my stomach increasing by the moment, the temptation to hyperventilate becoming more tempting by the second, I took a long, hard sip of the margarita and slid it to Guy’s side of the table before taking care of my soda.

  “Better?” Guy asked.

  “No,” I managed, reaching up to stop a tear before it could fall.

  “Are you all right, Jason?”

  “I—”

  The waitress returned soon after.

  “The steak,” Guy said. “And queso, for an appetizer.”