Chapter 25 Jacob
Jacob
We’ve been playing video games for an hour when Hughie lets out a ridiculous yawn and glances our way.
“I’m heading to bed,” he states before standing and leaving the room.
He doesn’t glance at either of us as he stalks down the hallway towards his room.
“Come to my room,” I whisper to Griffin the second Hughie is in his room.
He follows without question. I close the door behind us as quietly as I can manage, heart hammering so hard I'm sure he can hear it. Griffin stands near the foot of the bed, watching me with those intense eyes that never seem to miss a thing.
“We shouldn't be doing this,” I say, even as I step closer to him. My hands are shaking slightly and I clench them into fists.
Griffin closes the distance between us in one stride, and suddenly his hand is cupping my jaw, tilting my face up.
“Then tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across my lower lip.
I can feel the heat radiating from his body and all I want is to get closer to him.
My resolve crumbles with that one thought.
I surge forward and press my mouth to his, swallowing whatever he was about to say.
The kiss is harder than I intended, but I feel so much pent up need inside of me that I can barely breathe.
His lips part beneath mine and I take the invitation, sliding my tongue against his.
He tastes like beer and something sweet, and the low sound he makes in the back of his throat sends electricity racing down my spine.
His other hand finds my hip and his fingers dig in as he pulls me flush against him.
I can feel every hard plane of his body. The solid warmth of his chest. The evidence of his arousal pressing against my thigh. My own desire is becoming impossible to ignore.
I break the kiss just long enough to get my hands on his shoulders and shove him backward.
Griffin stumbles slightly, surprise flashing across his face before his knees hit the mattress and he sits heavily with his thighs spread wide.
The sight of him looking up at me with his pupils blown wide and lips swollen from my mouth, does something to me I wasn't prepared for.
Power and vulnerability twist together in my chest. I move between his spread thighs, threading my fingers through his hair and tilting his head back so I can claim his mouth again.
Griffin's hands slide up the backs of my thighs and suddenly I'm off balance and being pulled forward. He stands in one fluid motion, reversing our positions so I'm the one sitting on the edge of the bed with him looming over me.
“My turn,” he says, voice rough and commanding in a way that makes my stomach flip. He pushes me back until I'm lying flat, then follows me down, settling his weight between my legs.
His mouth trails hot and open down the side of my neck while his hands work their way under my shirt.
I arch up into him, desperate for more contact, more friction, more of everything he's willing to give.
The fabric of my shirt lifts and cool air hits my chest for only a second before Griffin's palms are there sliding over my bare skin, tracing the lines of muscle and bone.
“You have no idea how long I've wanted this,” he breathes against my collarbone, and the raw honesty in his voice makes something crack open inside me.
Griffin moves with ease, his thumbs sliding into my sweats and slowly pulling them down.
The heat in his eyes as they travel down my skin makes me bite back a moan.
“Christ, you're gorgeous,” he mutters, and then he's leaning back, reaching behind his head to tug his own shirt off. The sight of him nearly undoes me: broad shoulders, defined abs, the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband.
I sit up enough to reach for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle until he covers my hands with his own and guides them. The leather slides free and I pop the button of his jeans, drag the zipper down slowly.
His breath hitches when my knuckles brush against him through the fabric.
“Fuck,” he moans softly, and I shift backward until my head hits the pillow.
He kicks off his jeans and follows, settling beside me this time instead of on top, his hand splayed possessively across my stomach.
Griffin's fingers trace lazy patterns on my hip bone, each touch sending sparks of heat through me.
“Tell me what you want,” he says quietly, lips brushing my ear.
I turn my head to meet his gaze, finding nothing but raw desire and genuine curiosity there. My throat goes dry.
“I want you to take me apart,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can second guess them. “I want your mouth everywhere. I want to feel you inside me until I forget my own name.”
Griffin groans and closes his eyes, his hips shifting until his shaft rubs against my hip through his boxers. “Not tonight. We can't...not tonight. When I fuck you, I want to hear you moan for me but Hughie is here and we need to be quiet.”
The restraint in his voice only makes me want him more. I reach down and wrap my hand around both of us through the thin fabric separating our bodies, stroking slowly. Griffin's jaw clenches and he buries his face against my neck to muffle the sound that escapes him.
“Then give me what you can,” I whisper back, squeezing just enough to make him shudder. “Touch me. Use your hands, your mouth. Make me come so hard I have to bite down on something to stay silent.”
Griffin captures my wrist and pins it above my head in one swift movement, his grip firm but not painful.
“You want something to bite down on?” he asks, his free hand sliding down to hook into the waistband of my boxers. He tugs them down just enough to free me, and the cool air makes me gasp.
Before I can answer, he's kissing me again, deep and possessive, swallowing any sound I might make. His hand wraps around me properly now, skin on skin, and the sensation is almost too much.
He strokes with confidence, his thumb sweeping over the head in a way that makes my toes curl. I try to reach for him but he keeps my wrist pinned, controlling the pace, controlling me.
“Stay quiet,” he commands against my lips, and then his mouth is moving lower, teeth grazing my collarbone, tongue tracing the hollow of my throat. When he takes my nipple between his teeth I have to turn my face into the pillow to keep from crying out.
Griffin's hand works me with maddening precision, each stroke building the tension coiling low in my belly.
When his tongue flicks over my other nipple, my control snaps.
I surge up and sink my teeth into the curve of his shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but enough to leave a mark, to claim him the way he's claiming me.
He freezes for a heartbeat, then releases a low, guttural sound that vibrates through both our bodies.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his rhythm faltering before he regains it with renewed intensity.
His mouth finds mine again, kissing me like he's trying to consume me whole.
I can taste the salt of his skin on my tongue, feel the tremor running through his muscles as he fights to keep his own composure.
His free hand slides beneath me, gripping my ass and angling my hips up so he can grind against me while he strokes.
The dual sensation pushes me closer to the edge.
His name falls from my lips like a prayer, barely audible but desperate. “Griffin.”
He shudders at the sound, his grip tightening on me as his forehead drops to rest against mine. Our breathing mingles in the narrow space between us, ragged and uneven.
“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with need. His hand moves faster now, twisting on the upstroke in a way that makes white spots dance behind my eyelids.
I obey, whispering his name over and over, each repetition bringing me closer to unraveling completely. His own control is slipping; I can see it in the tension of his jaw, feel it in the way his hips rock against my thigh seeking friction.
“I want to see you fall apart for me,” he murmurs, and the hunger in his eyes is almost as devastating as his touch.
Griffin pulls his hand from my hard cock and I whimper in protest before moaning when he lowers his own boxers and his cock springs free. Fuck, he is thick and long, slightly curved and veiny. He’s so fucking perfect that I am close fucking drooling over the sight of him.
He smirks before spitting directly into his palm. It's so filthy and erotic that I moan again. Then he reaches between us and grabs us both in his now slick palm.
The pressure of his hand gripping us together steals the breath from my lungs. I can feel every ridge and vein of him sliding against me, slick and hot, and it's almost too much. My hips jerk forward instinctively, seeking more friction.
“Please,” I gasp out, not even caring how desperate I sound. “Griffin, I need... God, please don't stop.”
He tightens his grip just slightly and I nearly come apart right then.
“You want more?” Griffin's voice drops to a rough whisper against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “Want me to stroke us both until you're shaking? Until you can't remember your own name?”
His hand starts moving in slow, deliberate strokes and I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out.
“I'm going to make you come so hard you see stars, and then I'm going to do it again.” The crude promise sends heat flooding through my entire body.
My last shred of control shatters. I surrender to the sensation, to him, letting my head fall back as a broken sound tears from my throat. My hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into solid muscle as my body moves with his rhythm.
“Yes,” I breathe, the word barely coherent. “Anything. Everything.”
I'm trembling now, completely at his mercy, and the vulnerability of it only heightens the pleasure coursing through me. Griffin's eyes darken as he watches me come undone, his strokes becoming faster, and I know he won't let up until I shatter completely in his arms.