Page 160 of Stick It
“Yeah, no shit.” He was off his face within half an hour of getting here. The first thing he did was march up to the bar and order Jägermeister shots for the whole team…only to down most of them himself.
Following Ethan’s gaze, Finn is slumped in a booth with a few of the rookies who have been put on babysitting duty. There’s a shot glass in his hand, another five already emptied in front of him.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” Ethan agrees with a grimace. “I’m getting him out of here before he ends up in ER getting his stomach pumped.”
I nod. “Wise.”
“You’ll stay with her?” he asks, gaze cutting across the dance floor to where Dylan is partially visible through the crowd, her hands running over her curves as she sways to the beat. Her head is thrown back, her eyes closed, blocking everything out except for how she feels in this exact moment. As I watch, she twirls to face Jax, dragging her hand down his chest as she smiles up at him. She’s oblivious to the danger, which is exactly the way I want it. It’s precisely why Ethan and I have taken up protective stances, always keeping her in sight, why I’ve been sucking on this one beer since we arrived. So she can have this blissful moment of peace. She deserves it after tonight. After everything she’s endured. After all the shit she’s had to take from the guys, the team, and everyone else in this crap pack of aworld who can’t see that Dylan isn’t like the rest of us. She’s meant for greater things. Most of us are placed on this earth for no grand reason, but every once in a while, someone comes along who is meant for greatness. To change the course of existence. Dylan is one of those people. I have no doubts about it. She is going to change the entire trajectory of sports. She’s going to break through the glass ceiling and transcend barriers. It’s not a matter of how, but when. And I can’t wait to be there at her side when she leaves all these suckers fucking gobsmacked.
“Always,” I tell Ethan.
As if our thoughts are aligned, we both turn in tandem toward the bar, where Kyle is standing, flirting it up with a couple of girls like he isn’t responsible for the massive showdown in the locker room only a few hours ago. I shake my head and have to avert my gaze before I do something reckless like give him a broken nose to go with his split brow and black eye.
The satisfaction I felt when he walked in here looking like he’d gotten into a fight with The Rock was euphoric. It might have only sent Finn spiraling further, but it beat out the shutdown I secured tonight, which guaranteed us our epic win—which is saying something!
Clapping my shoulder, Ethan’s parting words are, “Keep her close,” before he pushes his way through the crowd toward Finn. Hauling him out of his seat, he drags him like a fallen soldier out of the club.
With a glance in Kyle’s direction, content to see him getting it on with the blonde at the bar who will most definitely wake up with regrets tomorrow, I set my mostly empty beer bottle on a nearby table before slowly threading my way through the crowd.
I don’t rush. I don’t stalk. I weave through the drunken mess of bodies and heat when the bass hits harder, until I’m behind her.
Static buzzes over my palms as I reach out to touch her, hands gliding over her hips and around her waist until I can pull her into me. She fits against my larger frame like she belongs there—because she fucking does. My face presses into the curve of her neck, just under her hairline, and I breathe her in. Peach and sweat, and the last trace of whatever body lotion she used earlier. My pulse spikes. My cock stirs. It’s ridiculous how much I need her. How much Ialwaysneed her. Like I haven’t been watching her all night. Like I didn’t have her on her knees for me hours ago. Like I haven’t heard her call out my name in pleasure a dozen times before.
Her soft gasp melts into a smile as she leans back into me, one arm reaching up to hook around my neck. Her other hand reaches blindly, entangling in the front of Jax’s shirt and tugging until she’s caught between the two of us. A Dylan sandwich. A mouthwatering, could-live-on-it-for-the-rest-of-my-life kind of sandwich.
The music throbs. She rolls her hips in time with it—against me, against him. Her dress rides higher with every twist of her body. My hands find her hips, anchoring her in place.
“Fuck, Hurricane,” I murmur against her ear, voice low and wrecked. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She grinds back harder in response.
I run one hand down her side, slow and possessive, tracking every inch of skin from her waist to her thigh. She shivers beneath my palm but doesn’t stop moving. Her hands roam over Jax’s large frame, and he stares down at her with heat-filled eyes. It’s hard to tell in the strobe lights, but I’d swear he isn’t even blinking, too afraid to miss a single moment of rapture on her face. His hands are all over her too, up her sides, along her arms, brushing the sides of her ass.
We’re no longer dancing—we’redevouring.Lost in the music, in the heat, inher. Our bodies locked together in arhythm that isn’t choreographed but instinctual. The beat pulses through the floor, through our veins, into the space between our lips and skin, dragging us deeper.
Dylan leans into me like I’m gravity, her lips seeking out Jax’s. Right now, we’re one unit. Moving together. Breathing each other in. Lips swollen and pupils dilated, her head tips back to rest on my shoulder. Her body arches, caught in the push and pull between us. I lock eyes with Jax over her head—heat, want, understanding. Words aren’t necessary as he ducks, burying his face in her neck, lips skimming her sweat-slicked skin. I feel the breath she exhales against the side of my face, feel the way her knees falter slightly.
My hand trails down her side until I find the hem of her dress again. My fingers graze soft, warm skin as I slip them between her thighs. Her breath catches, and I smile into her hair, my lips brushing the shell of her ear as I murmur, low and rough, “I believe I have a promise to uphold.”
Her body tenses, then melts, a soft sound escaping her—half gasp, half moan. Jax’s hands move in tandem with mine, one of his fingers drawing lazy circles just above her knee while mine slide higher, closer, until her hips jerk and her heat engulfs me.
And I’m lost.
To the music. To the dark. To her.
Right now, there’s no one else in this club. No prying eyes. No past. No Kyle. No games.
Just us.
The music thickens, bass low and pounding like a second heartbeat. Or maybe that’s just mine. Lights strobe red across Dylan’s skin, casting a glow that makes her look half temptress, half angel. And she’s mine. Ours. Butminefirst.
My fingers slide over the damp fabric of her panties, causing her to tremble between us, and the sound she lets out? Sinful. My blood roars.
I can’t hold back any longer. I’m going to burst a vein or have a heart attack or go fucking insane if I don’t get inside her right now. What I want more than anything is to rip off the pathetic excuse of a barrier, bend her over, and fuck her right here in front of everyone so they can knowexactlywho she belongs to. So the entire goddamn club knows that she’smine.
But fucking decorum and all that, so I settle for shoving her panties aside and burying two fingers inside her wet cunt. Her gasp is drowned out by the heavy bass. “Such a good girl, Menace,” Jax purrs, his words only audible because of how close we all are. His breath is hot on the other side of her throat before he lifts his head enough to meet my gaze. “Tell me, is she wet for us?”
