Page 73 of The Lockdown Mann

“Des,” he says, as though he can read the look on my face that I’m trying to hide.

“Don’t trip. It’s fine. I get it.”

Oakley finally comes inside, leaving his bag by the door.

I reach for him, try to pull him close, then back him against the wall, but Oakley grabs me, switches our positions, trying to get the best of me, attempting to get me in the same position I wanted him in.

I fight him off for a minute, knowing this gets us both hard. I only make it difficult for him for a moment before I let up, grabbing his hips and pulling him with me, the wall holding us up.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“You’re going to fuck me today.” His hand slides down my chest, then wraps around my dick, and I’ve never wished to be naked so much in my life.

“I am.”

“Two touchdowns. You lucky motherfucker.”

I chuckle. “Luck has nothing to do with it. All skill, baby…and determination for this.” I grab his ass, both cheeks fitting well in my hands. “You play with your hole for me today?”

“Fuck off.” He tries to pull away, but I don’t let him.

“You keep getting it stretched for me?”

“Yes.” He drops his forehead against my shoulder and breathes for a moment. I wrap my arms around him, hold him, letting my hand massage up and down his back.

“No rush. We only do what you want to do,” I remind him.

“I know. And it feels good, playing with myself. Better than I thought it would.”

“There’s lots of nerves back there, lots of ways your hole can bring you pleasure, and I intend to show you every one.”

He groans, this sexy, husky sound that makes my dick twitch.

Oakley pulls back. “So, what do you want to do?”

“No sex yet, perv.” I nod toward the living room. “I’m about to kick your ass in football.”

I grab us each a drink before we head to the living room. We play three games of football on my video game console because one isn’t enough to prove anything, and two was a tie, so there’s no way we could leave it at that. How competitive Oakley and I are together is one of my favorite things about us. It’s not something I’ve ever shared with a lover, something that’s unique to us and more fun than almost anything else in my life.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Oakley tosses his controller onto the coffee table when he wins the third game, giving him the two-to-one advantage. “It’s hard being this good.”

I roll my eyes but have to bite back a smile. I love this side of him, when he just lets go and is cocky and confident and just enjoying himself. I want him to always feel this way, like there’s nothing he can’t do or have. I want to be the person to give him that when I can, too—not that I would ever, in a million years, let him win, but I like to see it when he does.

“You’re lucky is what you are,” I say, then lean forward and press my lips to his. It’s supposed to be a simple kiss, but Oakley’s hand slides up to rest on the back of my head, pulling me in, his tongue parting my lips so it can dip inside.

I let him have his way with my mouth, then ease him back to the couch. I grind on top of him, erection against his, bodies moving in unison as we kiss like this is the last time we’ll ever be able to do so.

“Fuck.” I drop my forehead to his. “You go straight to my head.”

“You go to mine too.” Oakley dances his fingers up and down my back.

I give him my weight, lying on top of him, loving the fact that he can take me, that I don’t have to be careful with Oak. We might not match pound for pound, but he’s strong, fit, muscular in a way that matches my body more closely than anyone else I’ve ever been with.

“I want to make you come,” he tells me, still touching me.

“No.” I shake my head. “Not yet. We’re not coming until I’m inside you.”