Page 75 of Stick It
He meets my gaze in the mirror, a fresh wave of desire crashing through me at thewantI see there. Theneed. “You look so fucking hot, squeezing my fingers, Hurricane.”
I can only moan in response, my head dropping forward as he continues to fill me.
“More,” I plead.
He chuckles against my skin. “Greedy little thing.”
Thankfully, he obeys, adding a second finger and curling them inside me as I grind down. The movement has my ass rubbing against his cock as my clit drags along his palm. Fireworks go off behind my eyelids, my breathing growing erratic as he pushes me higher.
“Faster,” I pant, feeling myself growing close.
A hand comes up to squeeze my breast, plucking hard at my nipple until I gasp. “I don’t think so, Little Steelhawk. I’m the one in charge here. We’re going at my pace, and you’ll come when I say you can come.”
Fuck, that should not be so hot, but it is.
I’ve never had a sexual experience like this. Typically, it’sfumbling under sheets or in the dark, or a quick climb on, do the deed, and get off.
Nothing this heightened.
Nothing this consuming.
It’s too much and not enough all at once. I feel like I’m soaring and falling apart all at the same time.
A tug on my ponytail has my head being forced up until my gaze meets his once more. “I want all of you, Dylan.” Griffin’s words are a possessive demand whispered in my ear. A dirty promise. “Every fucking inch. Every whimper. Every moan. Every tear. I want the fire in your eyes and the loneliness you run from.” My breathing hitches.How did he know?“Iwillhave it all.” His lips wrap around my earlobe, sucking on it before he releases it with a pop. “I know you’re not there yet. You don’t yet realize that you’re mine, but you will. I’ll make sure of it.” As if to prove his point, he licks along my jaw, his hand sliding up the center of my chest and along my throat until he twists my face to his. The intensity blazing in those blue eyes of his leaves me breathless. “Until then, I’ll settle for swallowing your cries while you come on my fingers.”
His lips crash down on mine, his tongue invading my mouth. His hips rock against mine, encouraging me to grind down on his hand, and he picks up the pace, fucking me roughly with his fingers until I can’t fight off the impending release. “Now,” he growls against my lips before capturing them with his own, and primed to release, I come.
One arm bands around my waist as my legs tremble, my fingernails clawing into the mirror’s hard surface as I convulse around him, and he swallows every single one of my cries. Every heady moan. Every pleasurable whimper.
He kisses me the entire way through my orgasm, teasing out aftershocks with his talented fingers until I’m on the verge of collapse. Easing his hand from my shorts, his touch is surprisinglygentle as he turns me, so my back is to the mirror, his strength holding me up.
“Even better than I expected,” he murmurs. His eyes are closed, savoring the moment. It gives me a rare opportunity to drink him in. Gone is his hard mask, the lines on his face smoothed out. Without conscious thought, my hand rises, my fingers tracing the side of his face. He sighs, leaning into my touch like he’s spent his whole life bracing for a hit, and I’m the first thing he’s ever let himself fall into.
When he finally peels his eyes open, there’s a clarity there I haven’t seen before. Neither of us says a word, our breaths mingling in the scant space between our lips. It feels like the entire world has shifted beneath my feet. Like, when I step outside, the sky will no longer be blue. Everything is different, and I don’t know if I want to fight it or fall into it.
My skates carve through the ice, but I don’t feel the usual release I get from practice. My body moves on autopilot, my focus elsewhere. Onhim.
Griffin’s on the other end of the rink, working through his own drills, but I feel his presence like a weight pressing into my skin. He hasn’t looked my way once—at least, not that I’ve caught—but I know he’s watching. I canfeelit. That unrelenting intensity. It’s like a wire pulled taut between us, humming with something I don’t know how to name. Or perhaps I’m just afraid to look too closely. Especially after what happened between us in the gym this morning.
I haven’t been able to shake the feel of his hands on my body all day. Just thinking about him has my gaze sliding his way for the hundredth time since he stepped onto the ice an hour ago.
However, unlike every other time I’ve inadvertently foundmyself staring in his direction, this time, he’s staring right back. Our gazes collide, and he doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, just stands there, stick resting against his leg, mask pushed up, eyes burning into mine. My stomach tightens, and I force my focus back to my drills. This is stupid. I should be thinking about my shot, my speed—anything but the way my body reacts when he’s near. It’s like, by letting my guard down this morning and giving in to the pull I feel toward him, I’ve heightened everything. I sense him all the time. Where I felt his eyes on me like a gentle caress before, now they burn into me, hungry and possessive and impossible to ignore.
It’s not long later when I give up on attempting to focus on my drills and step off the ice. Despite my half-assed attempt tonight, my limbs are exhausted, but my mind won’t quit. I unlace my skates, feeling his gaze but not looking back as I hook my duffel over my shoulder and head for the exit. It’s only when I’m out the door that I breathe a breath of relief.
Outside, the air is crisp, the night quiet except for the distant hum of traffic from town. Most of campus has cleared out, leaving the parking lot nearly empty except for a few scattered cars, some shrouded in darkness while others are illuminated brightly from overhead streetlights. A chill wraps around me, a sure sign that we’re officially in autumn, as I bury my hands in the pockets of my hoodie and set off across the parking lot toward the gate. I probably should have driven this morning, but I wanted to enjoy the last of the good weather. Soon the snow will come in, and I’ll relish the heat blasting from inside my car as I drive to campus.
Perhaps it’s because I’m too lost in my head, still obsessing over my loss of sanity this morning and Griffin’s intoxicating touch, but I don’t initially notice the shadows starting to shift and form in the dim light, growing taller until three guys stepout from behind a parked car, their feet scuffing against the asphalt.
My heart slams against my ribs as I take in the three hooded, silent figures, my pace slowing to a crawl. Keep moving. Act normal. My fingers tighten on the strap of my bag, and I keep my head down, but my focus stays on them as I attempt to hurry past.
They start to spread out, and my body locks up. I’m unable to keep all three of them in my sights. Giving up any pretense of not noticing them, my head snaps up. “What do y—” The words tumble into a strangled scream as they launch at me.
I spin, trying to use my bag as a buffer and a weapon, but three on one is not a fair fight. The bag is wrenched from my shoulder. Pain explodes through my side as something hard slams into my ribs. I stagger, the air punched from my lungs. Before I can regain my equilibrium, another blow lands. Then another.
A kick to my thigh. A punch to my stomach. I collapse to my knees, gasping for breath. Pain radiates outward through my entire body. I wrap my arms around my head, curling in on myself as I try to protect what I can.
I don’t understand what’s happening.Why. All I can do is get through. Breathe and survive. A boot connects with my ribs. I bite back a cry as I curl up in a ball on my side, as tight as I can get. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to be over. For the pain to end.
