37. Dylan #2
I shake my head again, leaning up onto my elbow as I push my hand against his chest. “No, you won’t.”
His jaw tics.
“I’m not letting you get suspended—or worse—over me.” I force my voice to stay calm. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Griff.”
His fingers tighten at my waist, not in anger, but like he’s holding himself back.
“You think this is about fighting your battles?” He shifts, rolling us until I’m on my back and he’s above me, arms braced on either side of my head.
My hands wrap around his biceps, fingers digging into the skin as though I can anchor him to me and keep him from going after Lucas—not that the asshole wouldn’t deserve Griffin’s wrath.
“This isn’t about him hurting you,” Griffin says, voice low and deadly. “It’s about them all hurting you.” He leans closer, his breath hot against my lips. “You’re mine , Dylan.” His voice drops lower, his eyes taking on a carnal burn. “And no one hurts what’s mine.”
Heat coils in my stomach. It should be terrifying how absolute he is. How obsessed. But it’s not. It never is with Griffin.
I reach up, trailing my fingers along his jaw. “Then let me handle it.”
His eyes flick between mine, searching. War raging behind them. He vibrates with barely restrained fury, every muscle locked, his breathing ragged.
Indecision battles in his gaze, the torment cutting through him like a blade. I can see it—he’s seconds from storming out of here, from hunting Lucas down, from destroying him and anyone who stands in his way.
I fist my hands in his hair, tugging him closer. “Stay with me,” I whisper.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “If you don’t want me to kill them all,” he growls, voice rough, “then you better find a way to distract me.”
Dark, exhilarating heat crackles between us.
I arch beneath him, my lips parting, my pulse hammering against my ribs. Reaching up, my tongue flicks out to run along his lower lip before I nip at the flesh. “I can think of a few ideas.”
Griffin’s restraint snaps, and all of that anger and adrenaline unleashes as he surges forward.
His weight presses me deeper into the mattress, and his lips are bruising against mine.
Our tongues clash, and I can feel him along every inch of my skin.
The oversized Timberwolves T-shirt I’m wearing rides up when I hitch a leg over his hip, the fabric of my panties dragging along the hard erection in his boxers.
His hands are everywhere, stroking, kneading, squeezing.
I feel like I’ve been set on fire, and Griffin is the only one capable of dousing the flames.
His hand slips beneath my T-shirt, gliding over skin. He growls against my lips when my breast fills his palm. Heat envelops me, hot and heavy as I grind against him.
“Fuck, Hurricane,” he rasps, ripping his lips away to trail a path down my throat. I arch my back, craning my neck to give him better access. He pulls the neckline of my T-shirt over my shoulder before lapping at the exposed skin.
But I need more.
With my leg over his hip, I flip us. He lands on his back on the mattress with a surprised, but equally dark and intoxicating, chuckle, his hands instantly coming to rest on my exposed thighs.
He looks up at me with so much carnal heat. That, mixed with the darkness that permanently resides around him, leaves me breathless. Griffin is everything you shouldn’t want in a man and everything I crave .
“What are you going to do now, Hurricane?” he taunts, arching a thick eyebrow.
I meet that challenging stare with one of my own. “You told me to distract you.”
He nods, and I smirk .
“I figured, what better way to distract you than by sitting on your face?”
He groans, hands squeezing my thighs possessively.
“If there is a better one, I can’t think of it.” His words are more animal than human as he kneads my skin and stares me down with that starved look in his eyes.
I go to climb off him so I can pull down my panties, but he stops me, grabbing my arm as he sits upright. “If you get off me right now, I’m liable to storm out that door.”
“But—” I’m rendered speechless by the tearing of fabric, followed by a sharp sting along my hip before my panties fall away.
“Did you?—”
“Yup.” His smirk is one born of pure male arrogance, and it’s shameless of me to say that it’s hot as fucking hell.
“This goes too,” he growls, already tugging at the hem of my T-shirt as he pulls it over my head. Another rumble vibrates through his chest as his eyes slowly lower over my naked form.
“Get the fuck up here already, my mouth is watering at the thought of tasting you.”
He collapses back onto the bed, pulling me with him until I’m hovering over his face. His hands knead my thighs before grabbing my ass, squeezing the skin as he stares at my bare pussy with unadulterated need.
Gliding his fingers between my thighs, he spreads my pussy lips as he pulls me down onto his mouth. A jolt of electricity zaps up my spine at the first swipe of his tongue, followed by a moan as he swirls around my clit before diving back down.
“Oh God, that feels really good,” I tell him, hands snapping out to grab the headboard as everything inside me clenches.
Before I know it, I’m riding his face. He growls in approval while he laps and sucks at me, until I’m a wound-up ball of need and desire on the precipice of destruction .
“Griffin,” I gasp before sparks dance across the backs of my eyes, and everything inside me goes tight before pleasure barrels through me.
It takes everything in me not to cry out, to alert everyone else in the house to what is happening in here. Hands loosely clasped around the headboard, I slump forward, boneless as I catch my breath.
With firm, confident hands, Griffin slides me down his bare body, leaving a wet trail that glistens against the warm skin of his chest and hard planes of his abs.
Somehow, it only adds to the appeal, already enhanced by his nipple piercings and the hint of tattoo running up his side that I can spot from this angle.
My heart is still hammering against my ribs when he surges upward, one hand sliding to the back of my head while his other grasps possessively at my hips, pulling me closer. His lips descend on mine, wanting. I can taste myself on him as his tongue invades my mouth, both of us moaning.
“Need you,” he growls against my lips. “Right fucking now.” Holding on to me with one hand as though I might disappear—like I’m going anywhere, I couldn’t walk even if I wanted to—his other shoves his boxers down enough to grasp his cock.
It springs free, thick and engorged, the blunt head slick already.
“Ride my cock, Hurricane,” he practically orders, fisting himself as he uses his hand on my hip to push me lower until his tip nudges at my entrance. “I need to feel you around me.”
You don’t have to tell me twice.
Hands perched on his shoulders, my fingers dig into the thick cords of muscle there as I seat myself on him. I whimper at the painful stretch of my inner walls. He’s so damn thick . Larger than anyone I’ve been with before, but I welcome the bite of pain .
“That’s it,” he encourages as another inch slips inside me. “You’re doing so good, Hurricane. Nearly there.”
Rocking my hips, I gasp when he fully penetrates me, my hips hitting his.
Chest rising with deep inhales, my fingers play with the light blond strands at the base of his neck, and I stare into those captivating pale blue eyes of his while I catch my breath.
I can feel his fingers pressing into my skin, the flexing of his muscles as he fights not to move. Chemistry crackles in the air between us, but also something more, something deeper, something that terrifies me to look too closely at. So, instead, I lean forward and press my lips to his.
Our kiss is dirty and brimming with desire. With the undeniable attraction between us. The yearning. The impossible, ever-present ache .
“Need you to move,” he grunts, hips bucking as he thrusts up into me. Hands on my hips, he helps to lift me, before I tilt my hips and slam back down. We both groan at the impact, the connection, the sizzling along our nerves.
My hands are everywhere, roaming over his broad shoulders, fingernails scraping along his chest, palms gliding up his muscular arms before I pluck at the rings piercing his nipples making him buck and groan.
I can’t get enough. The need to touch him everywhere consumes me as our hips knock together, and the feel of him deep inside me, sliding over that spot, rocketing me higher and higher.
Sweat slicks along my skin, and I can feel his heart hammering against his chest in time with mine as my release races forward.
“Griffin.”
“I’m here, Hurricane. I’m right here with you.
” His hands move to my ass, moving me faster, deeper.
My hips buck, but he keeps me moving as I sink forward, my breasts pressing against his chest as my mouth meets his and I cry into his kiss as I come around him hard enough that I’m pretty sure I momentarily black out.
His deep groans reach me over the thundering of my pulse, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises on my hips as he thrusts up into me, burying himself deep before he comes.
“Fuck,” he rasps breathlessly, fingers still pressing into me as we remain close. My head falls to his shoulder, the rise and fall of his chest rhythmic as we both catch our breaths. His lips continue to brush along my damp skin, like he can’t bring himself to stop.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, wrapped up in one another, in this intimate moment between us. Only when I feel him growing inside me do I lift my head, my shocked stare meeting his smug one.
“I hope you weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight, ’cause I am nowhere near done with you.”
With that, he flips me onto my back and proceeds to prove his point until the sky outside streaks purple with the first light of day.