Page 40 of Stick Break
My thoughts scatter like sparks. All I know is that his finger feels like it belongs there, like it was made to be inside me. My muscles clench around him, involuntary and intense, and his groan vibrates through my core.
“So fucking sweet,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he’s just tasted heaven and can’t believe his luck.
I lift my hips, nudging into his face, and when I see the shine of my slick on his mouth—see the way he licks his lips like he’s savoring me—I nearly lose it. It’s filthy. It’s worshipful. And it’s everything.
My arms give out, and I collapse back on the bed, breathless and boneless, but I don’t look away. I won’t. He asked me to keep my eyes on him, and I don’t want to miss a single second. His mouth finally closes around my clit, warm and soft, and then he adds the pressure of his teeth—just the lightest graze—and crooks his finger inside me.
I swear my soul leaves my body.
“Rip…”
He answers with a low, contented mmm and keeps going, steady and focused, like he’s chasing something—and that something is my orgasm, which seems to be more important than his own.
Then he adds another finger, the stretch deep and snug, and the pleasure shoots through me like lightning. My hips twitch, my legs tremble.
“Oh God, Rip.”
“You like that, Goldie?” he teases, his voice deliciously thick with arousal.
I huff a laugh, breathless. “Oh yes, Big Bear. I love your moves. I was hoping I’d get to see them one way or another tonight.”
He grins like I just made his whole damn year, then goes back to devouring me with maddening precision, tongue swirling and stroking like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted—and he’s determined to finish every bite.
“I want you to come in my mouth,” he says, eyes hot and hungry. “I want to taste all of you.”
My heart gallops at the bluntness, at the raw need in his voice, and suddenly I need it too. Desperately. I reach for him, threading my fingers through his thick hair and pressing him closer. I grind against his mouth shamelessly, chasing the edge like a woman with nothing left to lose.
Because I don’t. In a week, I’ll be gone. This is a moment out of time, a memory I’ll carry like a secret, and I’m going to take every dan second of it.
“Yeah, babe,” he growls against me, voice low and rough. “Do what you need.”
And I do.
I move against him, chasing every spark of pleasure, as he works his fingers inside me—deeper, slower, faster—shifting pressure and rhythm until the heat boiling in my belly explodes outward.
“Rip,” I cry out, loud and unfiltered, and then I break apart.
My body spasms, pleasure ripping through me in wild, uncontrollable waves as hot release spills over his face. He groans in satisfaction, holding me through it, tongue sweeping to catch every drop like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.
When he finally pulls back, he slips his fingers from inside me and slides them into his mouth, eyes locked on mine. He sucks them clean, slow and decadent, and God help me, I feel the aftershocks hit all over again.
Then he leans back on his heels, and my gaze drops—straight to the heavy length of his erection, hard and waiting.
Even with my body trembling and my brain still swimming in post-orgasm bliss, I rise up, shifting closer to him. I slide my legs around his, wide and wanting, and his eyes drop between us.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice ragged.
I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke once, slow and sure. His head falls back.
“Fuck,” he groans.
I grin, breathless but teasing. “Aww… you guessed it,” I purr.
I wrap my fingers around him, stroking slowly, letting my palm glide from base to tip, savoring the silky heat of his skin. When I give a gentle squeeze, a bead of pre-cum gathers at his slit—and I can’t help myself. I lean in, tongue flicking out to catch it, moaning softly at the salty-sweet taste that’s so him.
Then I draw my tongue into my mouth, letting the moment linger, and when I peek up at him through my lashes, his eyes are nearly black with lust. His chest heaves. His legs look wobbly, like he’s one deep breath away from collapse.
Yeah. Not exactly an ideal position for a guy who looks ready to break apart.
