Page 24 of Stick Fight

His hips jerk, his cock pressing hard against my leg. His breath comes out sharp.“Gabby, please tell me you’re not talking about bubble gum.”

I arch a brow.“I’m not.”

A growl rips from his lungs, his jaw tightening.“Okay, so you’re saying… you want to give me a blow job and have my cum on your face.”

“If that sound?—”

Before I can even finish, he’s flipping me onto his back and dragging me with him, his hands locked around my thighs. I straddle his waist, and holy hell, his cock is thick and hard between my legs.

His hands slide to my shoulders, giving me a little push, and the hunger in his eyes, and the raw, desperate need I see there nearly undoes me.

“For the record, this isn’t just about you,”I tease, breathless.

He snorts, the sound low and rough.“Yeah, it is.”

“No, Roman,” I say, my voice thinning to a whisper. “I actually really want to do this.”

His chest rises and falls beneath my palms.“You like it, babe?”

“Not normally,”I admit, sliding down his body, positioning myself between his legs. I hook my fingers into his boxers and tug them down. His cock springs free, thick, gorgeous, and already leaking for me. I wrap my hand around him, and his hips lift into my touch.“But something tells me I’m going to this time.”

“Babe,”he rasps, his voice dark and raw. He cups my face, his thumb gliding over my cheek with rough tenderness, the pad of his finger scraping gently over my skin. That simple touch strikes deeper than it should. Like he's not just touching my face, but something buried beneath it.

Careful, girl.

I bend, sliding my tongue over the swollen head of his cock, and moan as the salty taste of him floods my mouth.“Mmm,”I murmur, savoring the tang on my tongue as his cock thickens in my palm. I stroke from base to crown, and when more slickness beads at the tip, I swirl my fingers through it and circle his crown.

His body jerks violently beneath me.

“Jesus, Gabs.”His voice is raspy, rough, and I take in the tightening of his ab muscles. A strange burst of power rushes through me.

I’m doing this to him.

I take him deeper, pressing him to the back of my throat, and his fingers rake through my hair, tugging just enough to make me shiver. I sense the heat of his gaze on me, and when I lift my eyes, the intensity I find there nearly undoes me. His mouth parts, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as I work him over, my tongue gliding along the thick ridge of his shaft.

His curses grow softer, more desperate. I reach down, massaging his balls with slow, teasing pressure. He thrusts upward, hitting the back of my throat, and I relax, taking him impossibly deeper.

“Gabs… baby… you’re incredible.”

His hand cups my cheek, the rough warmth of his palm sparking something deep and dangerous in my chest. My heart stutters, and when I steal a glance upward, the soft, awed look on his face—like I’m giving him something more than just pleasure—makes heat bloom low in my belly.

I grip him tighter, working my mouth over his length, my tongue flicking at the sensitive tip. His whole body tightens beneath me, muscles locking as he teeters on the edge.

“That’s so good.”His voice is a strained whisper.“Fuck, Gabs. I’m there.”

Excitement surges through me as I inch back, my tongue out, my hands still pumping him with steady strokes. Once. Twice. On the third stroke, he groans, his body bowing beneath me as he spills across my tongue.

My gaze locks on his face as he releases, and holy hell, the wrecked, breathless look on his face nearly undoes me. His mouth parts, his head tipping back as wave after wave of pleasure tears through him. I milk him, swallowing every drop, licking my lips as I moan in appreciation.

“Damn, baby.”His voice is raw, a little shaky. He reaches for me, pulling me up his body, and his mouth crashes into mine. He kisses me deep and slow, tasting himself on my lips, and when we finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine, brushing my hair back from my face. His gaze searches mine, something raw and unguarded in his expression. His hands cradle my cheeks, his thumbs stroking over my skin.

“Come home with me.”

7

Roman

Iroll over in bed, my body still exhausted as I stretch out my limbs. In no hurry to move, I tug the blankets up, not wanting to get up. But then suddenly, memories of last night hit me in a rush, and my eyes snap open. I turn quickly toward the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. My hand darts across the vacant sheets, and my chest tightens when I discover they’re cold.

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