by K. C. Enders
“Finn, baby, give me a beer and a shot!” a familiar voice yells.
I look up, and Marlee has her tits spilling out of a tiny green shirt. I do the best I can to make eye contact as I slide her a shot of whiskey and hand her a plastic cup of beer. Taking her money, I see a handful of guys behind her staring. Of course, she’s wearing the shortest plaid skirt I think I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some short skirts over the years. The guys’ jaws drop as she leans across the bar, grabbing my shirt to pull me in for a kiss.
Thankfully, Aidan and Lis breeze through the kitchen door just then, and I turn my head to greet them. And Marlee’s lips land square on my cheek.
“I missed. Give me another chance, Finny.”
Christ, she’s off her tits already. I probably shouldn’t have even served her.
I back away and nod at Aidan, wiping at the goopy, glossy mess on my cheek. “You back then? He’s all right?” I look around for Kieran and only see Lis and her friend Gracyn.
“A bunch of stitches and some painkillers, so he’ll not be back tonight. What was that?” Aidan nods at Marlee dancing her way over to the side of the bar. Right next to Addie.
“She’s not taking no for an answer. I need to get out of here with Addie.” I wipe my hands on a bar rag and hand it off to Aidan.
“Who?” He reaches out for an empty pitcher and falls into the repetitive motions of the night.
I glance to the right and smile as wide as I can—until I catch Marlee looking from me to Addie and back again.
I stalk over to them, smile firmly in place. “I’m done then. Let’s get out of here, yeah?”
Unfortunately, Marlee is more than a little impaired.
“Sure, lemme jus’ finish my beer,” she slurs.
And the look Addie gives her is priceless—and more than a little intimidating.
“Heeeyyy, you don’t have your glasses on. You look shexy like that.”
Adelaide slides out of her barstool and makes her way through the crowd to the front door.
“I’ll jus’ sit right here.” Marlee slides into the newly vacated seat, making herself at home.
“I’m out, Aidan. Maybe she just needs an Uber.” I nod toward Marlee as I grab my jacket from where I stowed it under the bar and push my way through to catch up with Addie. “You’re not leaving, are you? Can I still take you for a bite?”
“Absolutely. I just hit my limit with people. Had to leave before Skankzilla got too close,” she deadpans at me. “She always like that?”
“No. She’s a hot mess tonight.” I laugh as I guide Addie to my car.
She pauses when I open the door for her. “I’ve seen how you drive. Maybe we should take my car.”
The way she bites her lip when she’s being snarky does things to me. Things that make my jeans uncomfortable.
I manage to keep the car door between us to hide my growing erection. “I promise, you’re in good hands. We’ll be perfectly safe.”
She climbs in, and I close the door, thankful to have the barrier while I make the necessary adjustments.
Unfortunately, with her seated, Addie’s face is exactly level with my hand as I shift my cock.
17
Adelaide
“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
“Yes, that’s why I stopped going.”
There is no denying that he’s got something impressive there.
Finn clears his throat as he closes his car door and starts the car.
“Forget that was a window?” He pastes on his smirk and shifts his hips, opening his mouth for what I’m sure will be bullshit, but I cut him off, “Just be real for a change; no need to get cocky.”
We both freeze. Neither one of us is willing to move a muscle until it can’t be contained, and we bust out laughing.
“Cocky.” When Finn repeats it, the snort-laughs start.
“Oh my God. Sorry, that was too funny.” I swipe a finger behind my glasses, dabbing at the tears. “What’s the plan? What are we doing?” I shift in my seat to face him as he whips his car out of the space at the back of the lot.
“I had a plan, though it’s all kind of gone to shite now with getting stuck at the pub for so long. Are you hungry? We could go get something to eat.”
I’ve thought some horrible things about Finn and his driving. Who could blame me after he almost hit me and the way I’ve seen him zipping around town. But watching the way he handles the little hatchback, the confidence he has here, it not only matches how he moved in the chaos behind the bar, but it’s also somehow better.
“I could eat.” And I lose a little hold on my decorum as I watch him palm the stick shift, the way he grips it and strokes it like he’s stroking himself.
He shifts in his seat and glances at me. I quickly look back up, hoping I didn’t get caught staring, but—
“Whatcha looking at?” He quirks an eyebrow as he pulls into an impossibly tight parking spot at a restaurant.
“Nothing,” I huff out.
He parked so that I have more space on my side of the car, so watching him slide his lean body out of his barely cracked door takes all of my attention. Hips flexing, ass tight, legs driving him up and out.
My hand clutches the door handle, knuckles going white as I grip it tightly. By the time Finn’s around the car, opening my door, I have my breath under control, though my libido seems to be marching right along without a care in the world.
“You all right?” He puts his hand out to help me from the low seat.
Much as I need the help, I insist that I don’t—because I’m not sure I can handle the contact—and almost wipe out as my feet hit a slippery spot on the ground. Finn catches me with a large hand firmly planted high on my waist, high enough that his thumb is almost grazing my boob. And the smug smile tells me he knows he’s close.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks.
He’s getting to me in more ways than he knows.
After the rocky start, we have a surprisingly normal dinner. My burger is perfectly pink and juicy, dripping in cheese, mushrooms sliding off the bun. My double-fried fries melt the mayo as I dip them.
“So, you came here for college and couldn’t bear the thought of leaving?” Finn asks before licking some ranch off his thumb.
I’m wound so tight, everything he does makes me shift in my seat, seeking relief.
“Kind of. The program was great, and my scholarship was amazing, but I stayed”—I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a petulant brat; maybe I am—“to win a passive-aggressive battle with my dad. He’s a super-conservative lawyer, and he doesn’t appreciate my style.” I shrug, laughing a bit. “He’d rather I have golden highlights and clutch my pearls instead of my ever-changing hair and my pierced nose.” I watch Finn for his reaction. We’ve hardly had a conversation, let alone a serious one touching on my less than conventional looks. “What about you? Came for the women? Using the accent to its fullest potential?”
“Eh, no.” He smiles, embarrassed. Maybe rueful. “I had an incident in Dublin and felt the need for a new start.” He shoves a huge bite of his bacon cheeseburger in his mouth, darting his tongue along the seam of his lips.
I mentally shake the lust away, trying to focus on our conversation. Conversation, good, Adelaide. Fucking him with your eyes, bad.
“There’s more to that story, Finn. You’re going to have to tell me.” That wasn’t flirty at all, and the wink didn’t really count. I might have potentially had dust in my eye. Or something.
“Ehm, well…” His blush comes hard and fast, but an answer doesn’t.
Finn concentrates intensely on his fries, popping three into his mouth. Again with the licking of his fingers.
Why am I so focused on his mouth?
“I had an incident with my Humanities professor that ended poorly. My married Humanities professor.” His smile is tight as he spins his pint glass back and forth on the table. “She kept her position, and I was asked to quietly le
ave university. My mum and dad told me to figure it out, so I did. I bought a plane ticket and came to visit my uncle in New York, and he hooked me up with a job.” He shrugs and finally dances his eyes up to meet mine. And he’s biting his damn lip.
“Wow, so…a married woman?” I stare at him, not quite sure what else to say.
“It was four years ago. I’ve learned a lot since then,” he says earnestly.
There’s an awkward pause, and then, with my eyes bugging out, I bust out laughing, my mind completely falling into the gutter. “I’m sure you have,” I jeer.
“That is not what I meant.” Finn laughs with me. “Christ, not what I meant at all.”
We finish dinner and move on to discussions of Finn’s seven siblings and the multitude of ways I’ve embarrassed my dad. Then, my work and his renewed thoughts of taking college classes.
Finn pays our bill and drives us back to my car at McBride’s. He slides his car in next to mine. When he cuts the engine, his playlist continues softly with an amazing mix of indie and alternative rock.
“Thank you for sticking round and having dinner with me.” He bites his lip and winks.
The wink has an entirely different effect than it used to. Or maybe I’m just really horny, but whatever. All I can think of is the way his lips feel and how sweet he’s been.
Finn leans closer, tongue flicking across his bottom lip, drawing my gaze there. Again.
What starts out as a chaste, wholly appropriate good-night kiss is not nearly enough. The memory of our first kiss and all the lip-biting and finger-licking. The stick-shift-stroking, the cock-adjusting. I need more.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I plant my hand on the dashboard and push closer, deepening the kiss. But it’s still not enough. I reach down between his legs and release the bar, sliding his seat all the way back.
Finn’s eyes snap wide open, and a surprised smile stretches across his face. “Thanks for the ride.”
I climb over the center console and settle on his thighs, straddling him. “Don’t ruin this, Finn,” I say against his lips, running my hands up his chest, grasping the zipper to open his jacket.
He pulls me closer, hands on my hips, grinding me on his very impressive cock.
Very impressive.
My elbow hits the steering wheel controls for the radio, raising the volume of the music, and the beat of the drum and thump of the bass fill the car. Finn pulls me against his chest, hands sliding up to push my cardigan down my arms. He leaves it wrapped around my wrists, trapping my hands behind me. There’s no hiding my boobs like this, and the way he’s staring is hungry and raw. He skims his hands up my waist, pausing high on my rib cage.
The anticipation is killing me. It’s like he knows exactly where to touch me, how hard or light, to caress or squeeze. I lean in, ravenously kissing him, grinding down on him, fighting to free my hands. There’s not nearly enough room in the front seat of this car, and in my struggle, I hit the steering wheel, blaring the horn.
“Christ, Addie. You’re driving me mad.” He pulls me tight against his cock, the pressure bringing me dangerously close to orgasm.
The windows are fogged, the air in the car heavy with lust. I’m so close. So fucking close.
“Finn, ’re you in there?” a very drunk female voice calls from outside the passenger side of his car.
We both freeze, panting and frustrated but trying to be completely still.
“D’ you leave your car running, Finny?” The shadow of a palm is faintly outlined against the window by a streetlamp. “Finn?” Her singsonging his name is cut off by someone calling, “Marlee?”
Fingers trail away, a door slams, and the other car takes off, crunching gravel beneath the tires. It feels like we’ve been holding our breaths forever until it finally spills out in stuttered laughter.
“I guess I should go.” I’m just as stuck, trying to get back into my sweater, as I was getting out of it.
Finn grasps the sides, sliding it up my arms, his knuckles resting against the swell of my boobs. “Maybe,” he says gravelly. “Can I see you again though? I liked this—tonight.”
“I’d like that.”
He pulls me in for a sweet kiss before opening his door. He crawls out after me and makes his adjustments as we round the back of his car.
“Good night, Addie.” Finn tucks me into my car with a final kiss.
I let it go, not correcting him this time.
18
Finn
“Sex with three people is a threesome. With two people, it’s a twosome.”
“Then, I know why they say you’re handsome.”
I sit in the parking lot of the pub for at least another half hour. The windows need to defog, and so does my brain. Or maybe I just need to get the blood flowing back in that direction.
I tilt my head back against the seat and close my eyes, willing my erection away. It’s not an easy task when each time I think of Addie, I imagine the feel of her luscious tits in the palms of my hands. Jesus, I had no idea she had that body hiding beneath her loose T-shirts and oversize jumpers. Tight little arse, strong thighs, and that rack.
The drive home takes far too long, and the trek from my parking spot to the door feels like it takes even longer. I want nothing more than to sink into the memory of what Addie and I started in my car, but unfortunately, there’s a ridiculously drunk girl passed out in the corner of my sofa.
Marlee’s low-cut shirt is askew, and her skirt is doing very little to cover her arse. This is not the arse I was thinking about during the drive home.
I shake her, getting no response. Nothing.
Swearing, I drop my keys on the counter on the way to my room. I grab my quilt and a pillow. As soon as she feels the blanket on her, Marlee slides down on the couch, mumbling about steamed-up windows and breaking in. I grab a bottle of water and a bucket, setting it in front of her, just in case. This is not how I saw my night going.
After a quick text to Jimmy, explaining that there’s an inebriated girl on the couch, I lock my bedroom door. I strip to my boxer briefs—the ones with the cartoon horseshoes all over them. I wore them for luck, and they worked perfectly—until Addie and I were interrupted.
My phone pings as I climb into bed.
Jimmy: Right. Couldn’t make it to your room?
Me: Not Addie.
Jimmy: Fuck’s sake?
Me: Marlee Ubered here. Picked the lock maybe and passed out.
I get a thumbs-up and nothing further. Jimmy’s still got hours till closing and probably pitchers three bodies deep that need filling. If I were a better man, I’d have gone into the pub to help out instead of coming home straightaway, but I’ve been working there the longest out of all of us boys. I’ve earned my night off. And, with Addie on my mind, I’d have been useless anyway.
Christ, I’d probably scare the drunks with the ridiculous tent in my trousers. I’m concerned that the horseshoes on my briefs will forever be stretched out, never quite snapping back into shape. And there’s no way I’ll ever be able to sleep until I take matters in my own hands. So, I cue up my playlist from earlier—The UnBroken or maybe it was Of the Room—and reach deep for my much-needed release.
I wake in the morning to the sound of retching in the bathroom I just cleaned yesterday—you know, just in case. I should go help Marlee, bring her a glass of water, a spare toothbrush—something. But I don’t. I lie in bed, waiting for the sounds of bad decisions to quiet, when it hits me. She fucking broke into my flat. Who does that?
Suddenly, I’m motivated to get dressed and talk to her, get to the meat of the matter. Find out what the fuck she was thinking. I pull on my jeans from last night and take a deep breath before stepping out into the flat.
“Marlee, you all right?” I ask, passing the bathroom, on my way to the kitchen. I grab a fresh bottle of water and take it back down the hall. “Marlee?”
The door swings open, and the wreck of a girl walks straight out, popping the bottle from my hand and wipi
ng at her mouth. “Have you seen my phone?” She looks around the living room, shoving her hand down the side of the sofa and beneath the cushions. She plops down on her knees, her barely covered arse arched high in the air as she rests her head on the floor. “There it is.” She stretches her arm flat under the sofa and retrieves her phone. Her dead phone. from the sneer and the hateful look she gives it.
“Can you give me a ride?” she asks. There’s far too much suggestion in that simple question as her eyes rake down my bare chest, settling on the open button of my jeans. I really wish I had taken the time to throw a shirt on as well.
Fuck no.
“Erm, let me check my messages real quick.” Hightailing it to my room, I grab my phone and shoot a text to Aidan, letting him know I’ll take opening the pub today.
“Sorry, looks like I’ve got to fill in for Kieran, the new kid,” I call out. Turning toward the door, I jump at the sight of Marlee propped against my doorjamb with her tiny T-shirt in her hand. “Ehm, here.” I toss her my phone. “Call an Uber and go.”
She catches the phone with a huff and scowls as she pulls up the app, tapping away at the screen.
“Just leave it on the kitchen counter, and lock the door behind you,” I shout.
I’ll have to ask her another time about how she got in here. Gathering my clean clothes, I head into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind me. It’s a completely pointless act; if she broke into my flat, the lock on the bathroom door won’t stop her.
I hold my breath and take the world’s fastest shower, certainly the quickest I’ve ever done the morning after a first date. But, when I’m dried and dressed with contacts in, I’m thrilled to see my phone on the counter, the flat empty, and the front door locked.