Page 54 of Stick Handled

There. Locked. But she doesn’t need to know that. I want her oblivious to the safety blanket I’ve thrown over us.

I pull back just enough to look at her, my thumb brushing her cheek. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips slightly swollen, and I can see the conflict still churning in her mind.

“You think I’d let anything happen to you?” I murmur, my voice low, a hint of a growl slipping through.

Her gaze flicks to the door again, and I can see the nerves still dancing in her eyes. She’s so close to giving in, so close to surrendering completely.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, my tone softer now, more serious.

You’re safe with me, baby.

She hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly, her hands sliding down to rest on my chest.

“Good,” I say, my smile returning as I lean in to press a kiss to her jaw, then her neck, trailing my lips lower as I feel her melt against me again. “Now, stop worrying about that door, baby. The only thing you should be thinking about is us.”

I lean back slightly, letting my gaze roam over Avery’s form. Her chest heaves with each uneven breath, and her eyes are glazed with desire. The way she clutches at my shirt, her fingers knotted in the fabric, tells me everything I need to know. She’s mine for the taking, and she knows it.

I love that she trusts me. I don’t think she knows just how much having her trust means to me.

The vulnerability in her expression only fuels my hunger. I want to consume her, to make her feel every ounce of what she’s given me permission to unleash.

I move my hand from her jaw to her collarbone, feeling the rapid thud of her heartbeat under my fingertips. The soft skin beneath my touch sends a jolt of electricity through me. Avery makes me feel things no one else has. And I’m not talking about sex. There’s another feeling she’s provoking in me. The closest thing I can compare it to is my friendship with Rowan and Ares. It feels like… something I can’t even admit to myself.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, my thumb brushing against the delicate curve where her neck meets her shoulder. Her skin is so soft, almost fragile, and I have to stop myself from marking it with my teeth.

I lean in closer, our faces just inches apart, and I watch how her breath catches as my lips hover near hers. I love that her reaction to my closeness is still the same, no matter how many kisses we share.

The scent of her, a blend of her perfume and something uniquely Avery, fills my senses. Once I get my shirt back, I’m not washing it. I want her scent all over my stuff.

I take her mouth with mine, claiming it in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. My tongue slides against hers, demanding more, and she opens for me willingly, her body arching into mine.

Her hands slide up my chest, her nails grazing my skin through the fabric of my shirt. The sensation shoots straight to my dick, and I groan into her mouth, my hips pressing into hers. She whimpers, her legs parting wider instinctively, inviting me deeper.

I break the kiss just long enough to pull my shirt over my head with one hand, tossing it aside. Avery’s eyes trail down my torso, drinking in the sight of my inked body. Her fingers tremble as they reach out to touch me, tracing the ridges of muscle along my pecks and then moving over one of my tattoos. Her touch is hesitant at first, but it soon grows bolder, her fingertips exploring my exposed skin.

“Look at me,” I command softly. She does, her big, wide eyes locked onto mine. “I need you, Avery. Do you understand what I mean?” I ask, my voice thick with arousal.

She nods, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. With a grin, I walk us to her bed and gently lay her down, cradling her with one arm and supporting our weight with my other. I need to have her. My dick pushes against my jeans almost painfully, begging for more room.

I push her back onto the bed, positioning myself between her thighs as I undo my belt buckle. The sound of metal clinking against leather fills the room, and Avery watches me like a puppy waiting for food.

“You want this, don’t you?” I ask, undoing the button slowly. She bites her lip, and her eyes dart toward the door for a second before landing back on mine.

She nods, looking down to watch my hands slide my zipper down.

I don’t want her hesitant right now. I want her admitting what her body is telling me. I want to hear her say it.

Her breath hitches when I finally free my cock, already hard and throbbing with need for her.

“Tell me,” I demand, my tone brooking no argument.

“Yes, I want this,” she says, her voice cracking with desperation as she bucks her hips toward me.

“Then beg for it,” I drawl, fisting my cock in my hand.

“What?” Her eyes widen, darting between my face and my cock.

“I said beg for it, baby,” I repeat, slowly stroking myself. “Let me hear how much you want this.”

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