After dinner, I go back to the room and change into comfortable lounge pants and an oversized light sweater. Then Glenn, Emily, Finn, and I head for the family room to watch a movie.
“I feel like I’m in high school,” I say to Finn. “Watching a movie with a boy while his parents are in the other room.”
He gives me a knowing look. “You gonna let me cop a feel under the blankets?”
I don’t answer, leaving him to catch up, his eyes narrow on me.
The family room is a large but cozy space with a sectional couch near the back and two big recliners grouped together off to one side. A tumbled stone fireplace fronts the space.
“Where’s the TV?” I ask.
Glenn picks up a remote. “Right here.”
A movie screen starts lowering from the ceiling.
“Wow.”
“Finn’s last Thanksmas present to my dad,” Glenn says. “I’m still waiting for mine, the cheap ass.”
“Hey,” Finn says with a laugh. “I keep you flush in athletic gear.”
“You get that stuff for free.”
“Don’t listen to Glenn, Chess,” Emily says. “He wouldn’t take a gift like that even if Finn snuck it into our house on the sly.” She heads for a recliner. “My back is killing me.”
“Damnit, baby,” Glenn complains. “You know I like the couch.”
“Then snuggle up with Finn and Chess.” She relines the chair with a happy sigh. “Or would you rather carry this baby?”
“Yeah, because arguments based on total fantasy always work,” he grumbles and plops down in the other chair.
“Sucker,” Finn says, sprawling on the big corner of the couch.
I walk by him, intent on taking the opposite corner, when Finn reaches out and takes hold of my good wrist. And I pause, staring down at him. He doesn’t do anything more, his grip warm and secure, as he meets my gaze with steady eyes.
It’s my decision, whether I cuddle up with him or move on. If I tug on my arm, take a step, he’ll let me go. I sink down. And he moves with me, turning his body, tucking me at his side, my legs draped over his, my head on the couch pillow beneath his chin.
Neither of us says a word as he reaches back and grabs a thick throw to cover us. Nestled against the firm expanse of his chest, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to return to sitting alone. Not when he is near.
Finn grunts as if to say, about time, and then wraps his arm around my waist.
“What are we watching?” My voice is breathy.
“Die Hard.” Finn’s words rumble against my shoulder blades. “Christmas classic.”
“Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…”
His lips graze the shell of my ear. “I promise not to blow anything up.”
Glenn messes with the remote again and the lights go low. I’ve seen Die Hard a dozen times. I know the lines by heart. I hear none of them now.
The room is dark, Glenn and Emily silhouettes against the screen. Tucked on the couch, Finn and I are in another world. I can’t even pretend I’m watching the movie. Images flash, words are spoken, but my attention is on the man next to me.
He shifts a little, moving his body so that we’re fully spooning. The wall of his body is rock hard yet it melds against mine, warm and comforting. Or it would be. Only my awareness is too keen now, moving in little flips through my belly. Something stiff nudges my ass, and I stiffen.
“Is that…” My voice is a ghost in the dark.
But he hears it. “Yes,” he says at my temple. “You get near him and he wants to say hello.”
Ducking my head, I smile into the pillow. The devil in me has me arching my back just a bit, pushing my ass into his hardness.
Finn grunts low in his throat. His hand spreads wide over my belly, holding me still. So slow, it’s barely a movement, he rocks against me. The rest of our bodies lay absolutely still. Oh, but my heart beats like a mad thing, violently pumping within my breast.
Finn’s breath chuffs out as if he can’t quite control it. His lips rest on my hair. “God, you smell good. You always smell so fucking good.”
It’s such a low murmur, I barely hear it over the sounds of the movie.
“It’s the coconut oil I used for my skin,” I whisper back, pretending everything is casual, that my sex isn’t starting to throb and my breath isn’t growing light.
Finn breathes in deep, lets it out slow. “It’s you. All you.”
A shudder wracks him, and he seems to go tight all over, as if he’s trying to hold onto his control. The hand at my belly stroking now, slow, small explorations.
My breasts grow heavy, my nipples drawing tight. I draw in a breath, let it out. The screen grows blurry. I can’t think.
Finn’s hand slips beneath my shirt. His fingers are rough with callouses but feather light against my skin. A ripple of pleasure dances over me, and I suck in a breath, silently urging him on. Up and down he traces, the edge of his thumb touching my belly button, the tip of a finger glancing along my waistband.
His hand moves higher, and the blunt end of his thumb grazes the bottom curve of my breast. We both freeze. The shudder that moves through Finn is almost violent. His thumb presses into my bare breast and he shakes again, a near-silent groan leaving him.
My lids flutter, wanting to close. I press my cheek agains the couch pillow, waiting, willing him to touch me. A gust of breath warms my hair, and then he slides his hand up. The warm weight of his hand over my breast feels so good, I gasp.
Finn’s body jerks, shoving against mine. But he palms my breast, rubbing in gentle circles. So good. Such a perfect tease. My breath grows shorter, my thighs trembling. In the dark, hidden beneath a blanket, he fondles me, lightly playing. The tip of his finger worries my nipple, toying with the stiff tip.
“I want to see you.” His finger skims over my nipple. “Suck you here.”
A light pinch. Luscious tension sparks down my belly, pooling in my sex like wet heat.
I can’t take it. Moving as if in a fog, I roll onto my back, my body resting in the circle of his arms. The action sends Finn’s hand skimming over my skin to my other breast. He palms it with possession, as our eyes meet. Neither of us speaks.
I want to kiss him. I want it so badly my lips are swollen with the need to feel his.
We can’t kiss. Not here. It would be too loud, they’d notice. And when I kiss Finn, I know I won’t stop there. When I kiss him, I want to consume him. I see that understanding reflected in his eyes. This is killing him, but he love it. He’s reveling in it.
Brows furrowed, gaze hooded, he fondles me, tugs my poor, achy nipple—teasing me.
It feels good to be teased, to let the anticipation build and simmer. But he’s getting away with it far too easily. Carefully, I ease onto my side and face him. He watches me move, a light of expectation in his eyes. Holding his gaze, I slide my hand under his shirt.
Finn’s tight belly flexes beneath my palm as if he’s ticklish. God, he’s warm, his body hard but his skin soft. I rub him there, enjoying his textures and the way he twitches as if he can’t decide whether to pull away or press in closer.
Closer wins out when he cants his hips and slides his thigh between mine.
With a happy sigh, I turn his way. My lips touch the smooth curve where his neck meets his shoulder. He smells delicious, clean like soap, spicy like sex and pheromones. The fragrance of Finn goes straight to my head and makes it light, while the rest of me becomes heavy and hot.
I lick that curve, and he grunts—a breath of sound. His grip on my breast tightens a fraction.
Smiling, I tug the button of his jeans, and they pop open. Finn goes utterly still. He’s fairly humming now, he’s so tight. Delicious. I want to eat him up.
My hand slides under the waistband of his boxer briefs. His cock rises to meet me, fever-hot, silky-smooth. He’s so hard he pulses. I give him a long, easy stroke.
Finn’s breath comes out in quick, light gusts. He�
��s shaking now, but he barely moves as I quietly jack his cock. Up and down, squeezing just a bit at the tip. Finn’s free arm snakes beneath me and gathers me closer.
We’re wound together, my face tucked in the warm hollow of his neck, my hand stroking his dick, as he plucks and toys with my nipple. He can’t do more. We can’t move too much without being noticed. The huge muscle of his thigh, notched between my legs flexes rhythmically in a maddening push-release against my clit.
Trembling, he rocks his hips, slowly fucking himself in my grasp. I run my thumb over his tip, tease the ridge of his wide head. The tremors increase. I don’t know who is shaking more now. I could come like this. But I want his release more. Straining against him, I find the sensitive skin at his neck and suckle it as my grip tightens on his dick.
The sound he makes is tortured, almost a whimper and then he jerks so hard, I nearly lose my grip. Wet heat spills over my fingers. We both shudder then, gasping as he works through his orgasm.
Finn sags against me, his breath silted and damp on my neck.
The world around us returns—the loud explosions on the screen, the reflective lights of the movie playing over Finn’s skin.
As if coming out of a deep sleep, Finn blinks at me, his lashes fluttering. And then his gaze clears, zeroing in on me with a force that makes my breath hitch. His lips barely move, his voice so low only I can hear it. “Bedroom. Now. Or I take you here.”
* * *
I move like water, rising up and flowing to my feet. My limbs don’t feel like my own anymore. Somehow he’s claimed them, and I’m left this throbbing mass of need. My nipples are so stiff they hurt. I need him to pinch them harder, put his mouth on them and suck…
Blood rushes in my ears, and distantly I hear myself saying goodnight to Glenn and Emily
Emily is asleep.
Glenn waves me off without looking back.
I know Finn is following. He’s coming for me. The knowledge is cool heat on my skin, a pulsing pressure between my legs. My thighs clench with each step.
I don’t make it far. The darkness of the hallway closes in, and then his warm hand is there, wrapping around my arm, pivoting me.
Silently, he presses me against the wall, one hand in my hair, the other cupping my chin. But he doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. Our breath mingles in rasping pants, as we stare at each other in the shadows. The line of his jaw bunches. I’d think he was angry if it wasn’t for the intense look in his eyes. As if he was hurting.
Need.
That’s what that is. Because I feel it too.
I lift my chin, nudging at his hand, leaning into his touch.
And he swallows hard. His thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. “Tell me again that I’m a bad bet. Because I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
Barely a whisper, and yet a hard plea. Anticipation shimmers through my belly. “Prove it.”
All the tension leaves him with a breath, replaced by something more intent.
When he kisses me, it isn’t rough or impatient, it’s deep and consuming, as if he’s been given air after so much denial. Or maybe I’m the one who feels deprived, because that first touch ignites me. Nothing compares to kissing Finn Mannus. It is glorious, delicious. Perfect.
With a rough noise, he settles into the kiss, feeding me his tongue with easy glides, coaxing mine to play with his. And I do, tasting, taking. I draw in a quick breath, plunge in again, working for those rough, pained sounds he makes, as if he’s dying and only I can save him.
I’m so attuned to him at this moment, every rapid thud of his heart against his ribs reverberates through my body. My fingers curl into the loose fall of his shirt at his back. I’m shivering with heat, my lips swollen, my jaw aching.
As if he feels my need, his grip on my hair tightens. He takes my mouth with soft, nibbling kisses, deep explorations. All the while walking us toward his room.
Hands fumble behind me. He gets the door open, and then we are in the cool quiet of our bedroom. Standing in the center of it, I watch him close the door, pull his dirty shirt off and toss it to the side. Blue moonlight plays on his shifting muscles as he moves, I drink in the sight, my fingers clenching with the need to touch.
Finn’s eyes gleam as he reaches out and flicks a switch. The bedside lamps turn on, and he grins, a slow curl of his lips. The look in his eyes is predatory.
My belly does a little flip. “Afraid of the dark, are we?”
He takes a step farther into the room. He looks as undone as I feel. Hair mussed and eyes glazed. “Needed to see this in full color.”
We speak in hushed tones, as if neither of us want to break the quiet spell.
He stops close enough that I feel his warmth, see the way his pulse beats a rapid tattoo at the base of his throat. His lids lower in lazy perusal. Softly, he traces a line down my neck, sending little shivers in his wake. His finger hooks on the edge of my shirt and plucks it. “Take this off.”
It’s a low murmur that rubs like velvet on my skin.
Holding his gaze, I pull the shirt free. Cool air buffets my skin.
Finn’s breath hitches. He stares at me without blinking, his chest lightly lifting and falling. “That first night,” he rasps. “You were wearing a gold, silky top. I wanted to slip my hands under it, cup these perfect tits.”
The backs of his knuckles graze the side of my breast, and I twitch.
Finn makes a rough noise in his throat. “I knew they’d be so fucking pretty, Chess.” His thumb brushes over my nipple. “I wanted to suck these juicy nipples right there. Right there at the bar. Right through your little top.”
I sway a little.
Finn’s eyes meet mine. “Take the rest off. I want all of you.”
My hands go to the waste of my pants. “You too. Let me see you.”
Our eyes hold as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down with an impatient thrust. He’s naked before my pjs touch the floor. And then there is just us. And this Finn is just for me, his cock jutting out hard and long, a little pearl of need glistening at the tip. That big cock lifts a little, swaying under its own weight, as preens for me.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell him.
He grasps that beautiful dick in his hand, giving it a light stroke. “And you’re mine.”
I move to him, sliding my arms around his neck, melding my lips to his. He wraps me up in his warmth, his hard against my soft, his tongue dipping into my mouth for another taste.
Stumbling back, he takes me with him, his mouth never leaving mine. We’re on the cool bed. And he lays me down, kissing his way along my neck. Big hands glide over my skin like a dream, slow, soft.
I squirm as, he licks his way down my breast, seeking the tender bud of my nipple. All that time on the couch, he played with me there, working me up, getting me so sensitive, the slightest touch now is almost too much.
Finn knows this. It’s there in the way he looks at me from beneath his lowered lids, all covetous and hot like he’s planing things. “So fucking gorgeous.”
He goes at my poor, stiff nipple with short, leisurely licks, as if he’s testing my flavor, getting himself acquainted with my textures. Just enough pressure to make me feel it, want more.
A satisfied hum from his lips tickles, buzzes straight down to my clit.
I can’t take it.
“Will you…” I swallow convulsively, my body jerking as he flicks his tongue.
“What?” he whispers, idly dragging the flat of his tongue over my nipple again.
“Suck it,” I rasp. “Please. It aches so bad.”
A groan tears out of him, almost pained. He cups my breast in his big hand, plumping my flesh up for his pleasure. The first wet pull of his mouth has me biting back a whimper. My back arches off the bed, but he holds me fast, sucks me with rhythmic tugs.
“Finn.” My voice is thready, trembling. “Please. Suck them.”
He mutters hot, frantic words, his breath coming quicker. His mouth moves to my other nipple. Teeth
nip and then the wet glide of his tongue before he sucks. It feel so good, I’m going to melt into a fucking puddle of heat.
My hips rock against the bed as I whine, needing more.
“Shhhh.” He kisses my nipple gently. “You don’t want to wake my parents.”
That sly whisper goes straight to my core. We shiver, sharing the illicit fantasy of pretending we might get caught. It makes everything more intense. The room seems darker, his skin on mine hotter.
Slow, lazy kisses pepper over my chest, as clever fingers drift down my trembling belly. His fingers are thick and long, and by the time he gently slides them over the swollen bud of my clit, I nearly come.
Finn rubs his cheek against my breast, his finger tip tracing the opening of my sex. “I want to fuck you now.”
I think I whimper. My hands claw at his shoulder, the back of his head.
He gives the curve of my breast a soft kiss. His voice is dark honey. “Will you let me, Chester? Will you let me fuck you?”
An incoherent sound leaves me. It’s enough for Finn.
Shadows shift as he rises above me, and then he moves into a shaft of lamplight. God, that body, golden and taut. I want to lick every inch of it. I need to feel it on top of me more.
He settles between my parted thighs, and he feels so good, hard and firm, his skin damp with sweat and emanating heat, that I groan again.
“Shhh,” he whispers in my ear. His body trembles. “God, you feel so good.”
My hands glide down his back, mapping the hard terrain of his body. I need him in me.
But he just touches my hair, looks down at me with eyes that show too much. “You okay with this, Chester?” The tenderness in his voice wraps around my heart and squeezes. “Me going bare?” Another caress along my cheek. “I can get something.”
“No.” I lick my swollen lips. “Just you. Now.”
The Hot Shot Page 20