Page 82 of Striker

I jerk into my hand, Viper’s voice sending a flare of panic and something else through me. I spin in shock, then realize I’m still holding my dick and turn back around. My eyes meet his in the steamy mirror.

“What the fuck?” I hiss, grabbing the head to try to calm myself. “Did you forget how to knock?”

His eyes drag up and down my body. “Door was open.”

“Unlocked doesn’t mean open, Viper.” My gaze skims over his bare chest to the tattoo in the center, noticing how the bright light overhead outlines every plane of muscle and deepens the shadows under his eyes. Highlights the gleam of sweat on his collarbone.

He shrugs, leaning his large shoulder against the frame. “Breaker’s mad at me.”

I grit my teeth.Like I give a shit.“He’s always mad at you.”

Viper’s eyes flicker down to my ass. “He is.”

“Probably because you’re an asshole.”

He lifts a shoulder again, giving me an absent nod, his eyes moving up from my ass to my back and the tattoo between myshoulder blades. He has the same one on his stupidly sculpted chest. I don’t know why he’s staring.

“Can you leave?” I snarl, my cock growing even harder with him looking at me like that.

“I could,” he says, stepping forward. My spine straightens. “Or I could stay.”

Always fucking pushing boundaries. “Go,” I snap.

“What If I don’t?” He takes another lazy step toward me. Lifting his hand, he places his finger delicately, barely brushing the skin on the back of my neck.

When his finger slides down my spine, my back goes straight, my blood running so hot it scorches my veins, making my skin feel like it’s on fire and freezing at the same time. Viper steps in so close, I feel the heat of his body along my bare back. His forehead hits my shoulder, slicking over the sweat gathered from the steamy room. He exhales slowly, breath dampening my already sticky flesh. The finger on my spine drifts to the dimple in my lower back. Presses into the divot. He breathes in. Deep. Taking my scent, my heat, into his chest with a quiet moan.

My hand tightens around my shaft. My thoughts splinter. Shards of images of us over the years—of his heated looks, his mouth around Breaker, the way he throws his head back when he comes—cutting through me.

His full lips skim over the flesh on my shoulder blade. “We both know you want my mouth instead of your hand. You have for a long time.”

Desire punches me in the gut and all those splinters fly weave back together, stealing my breath. I spin, my fingers gripping his throat. “Don’t fucking play with me,” I snarl, my cock slicking over his stomach.

His hands land on my shoulders, his lip curling into a smirk. “I thought I was the one with the temper.”

My fingers tighten, and I shove him back until he slams into the wall. A breath escapes him, fanning my face with mint and lemon as his eyes move to my mouth. Slowly, watching my eyes, the fingers gripping my shoulder loosen and slip lower, down my chest, dragging over my nipple to my stomach. His nails scratch at my abdomen, making my stomach ripple with heat.

“Viper,” I say, but it sounds like a plea more than a warning.

My jaw pops when his fingers brush below my navel. Then fingers move to the base of my cock. Brush along the top. My chest heaves. His mouth falls open as he slips his fingers around my girth and I buck into his hand, my body lit up, desperate for any touch.

“So needy,” he whispers. “Maybe I’ll fuck your mouth and make you my good little boy.”

Red clouds my vision. Rage tangled with something dark and primitive makes me move before I can think. He grunts when I grip him by the back of the neck and slam him down to his knees.

“Open,” I demand, moving on instinct, completely mindless with fury and need.

When he opens, I thrust forward, driving into his mouth, my cock hitting the back of his throat. His head slams into the wall. Viper’s arm flails out, but I grip his wrist and pin it above his head as I thrust. He grunts, and the vibration nearly makes me blind as I drive into his mouth deeper, forcing him to take me into his throat. He chokes, eyes watering, looking up at me with such fury, I laugh.

“Good boy,” I taunt, punching forward with my hips viciously. “Take me deep. If she can take me all the way, so can you.”

He grunts again and his free hand lands on my ass. I grate out this desperate, reedy sound as he grips my ass and forces me even deeper.

“Fuck,” I whisper, my shoulders dropping as I drive in again. I pull out and his tongue swirls over my head before he greedily sucks me back into his warm mouth. My head falls forward, resting on the wall as I watch him take me deep. “Yes, just like that.”

He does it again, then again, my balls drawing up tight. I release his wrist, weaving my fingers into his thick hair, holding the back of his head, thrusting hard and fast, then hold my dick in his throat until I know he needs air, only easing up when his eyes water. He sucks in a breath through his nose, but sucks me back in.

“Greedy boy,” I rasp, absolutely ravenous for his mouth. His tongue skates over my slit and I tighten my grip, letting my nails dig into his scalp. “You want my cock? Take it like a good boy because I’m about to fuckingownyou.”

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