Page 127 of Stick It
Indecision battles in his gaze, the torment cutting through him like a blade. I can see it—he’s seconds from storming out of here, from hunting Lucas down, from destroying him and anyone who stands in his way.
I fist my hands in his hair, tugging him closer. “Stay with me,” I whisper.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “If you don’t want me to kill them all,” he growls, voice rough, “then you better find a way to distract me.”
Dark, exhilarating heat crackles between us.
I arch beneath him, my lips parting, my pulse hammering against my ribs. Reaching up, my tongue flicks out to run alonghis lower lip before I nip at the flesh. “I can think of a few ideas.”
Griffin’s restraint snaps, and all of that anger and adrenaline unleashes as he surges forward. His weight presses me deeper into the mattress, and his lips are bruising against mine. Our tongues clash, and I can feel him along every inch of my skin. The oversized Timberwolves T-shirt I’m wearing rides up when I hitch a leg over his hip, the fabric of my panties dragging along the hard erection in his boxers. His hands are everywhere, stroking, kneading, squeezing. I feel like I’ve been set on fire, and Griffin is the only one capable of dousing the flames.
His hand slips beneath my T-shirt, gliding over skin. He growls against my lips when my breast fills his palm. Heat envelops me, hot and heavy as I grind against him.
“Fuck, Hurricane,” he rasps, ripping his lips away to trail a path down my throat. I arch my back, craning my neck to give him better access. He pulls the neckline of my T-shirt over my shoulder before lapping at the exposed skin.
But I need more.
With my leg over his hip, I flip us. He lands on his back on the mattress with a surprised, but equally dark and intoxicating, chuckle, his hands instantly coming to rest on my exposed thighs.
He looks up at me with so much carnal heat. That, mixed with the darkness that permanently resides around him, leaves me breathless. Griffin is everything you shouldn’t want in a man and everything Icrave.
“What are you going to do now, Hurricane?” he taunts, arching a thick eyebrow.
I meet that challenging stare with one of my own. “You told me to distract you.”
He nods, and I smirk.
“I figured, what better way to distract you than by sitting on your face?”
He groans, hands squeezing my thighs possessively.
“If there is a better one, I can’t think of it.” His words are more animal than human as he kneads my skin and stares me down with that starved look in his eyes.
I go to climb off him so I can pull down my panties, but he stops me, grabbing my arm as he sits upright. “If you get off me right now, I’m liable to storm out that door.”
“But—” I’m rendered speechless by the tearing of fabric, followed by a sharp sting along my hip before my panties fall away.
“Did you?—”
“Yup.” His smirk is one born of pure male arrogance, and it’s shameless of me to say that it’s hot as fucking hell.
“This goes too,” he growls, already tugging at the hem of my T-shirt as he pulls it over my head. Another rumble vibrates through his chest as his eyes slowly lower over my naked form.
“Get the fuck up here already, my mouth is watering at the thought of tasting you.”
He collapses back onto the bed, pulling me with him until I’m hovering over his face. His hands knead my thighs before grabbing my ass, squeezing the skin as he stares at my bare pussy with unadulterated need.
Gliding his fingers between my thighs, he spreads my pussy lips as he pulls me down onto his mouth. A jolt of electricity zaps up my spine at the first swipe of his tongue, followed by a moan as he swirls around my clit before diving back down.
“Oh God, that feels really good,” I tell him, hands snapping out to grab the headboard as everything inside me clenches.
Before I know it, I’m riding his face. He growls in approval while he laps and sucks at me, until I’m a wound-up ball of need and desire on the precipice of destruction.
“Griffin,” I gasp before sparks dance across the backs of my eyes, and everything inside me goes tight before pleasure barrels through me.
It takes everything in me not to cry out, to alert everyone else in the house to what is happening in here. Hands loosely clasped around the headboard, I slump forward, boneless as I catch my breath.
With firm, confident hands, Griffin slides me down his bare body, leaving a wet trail that glistens against the warm skin of his chest and hard planes of his abs. Somehow, it only adds to the appeal, already enhanced by his nipple piercings and the hint of tattoo running up his side that I can spot from this angle.
