Hands off his Dudette (Some Girls Do It Book 6)

by May Sage

  The elegant woman put the tip of her hands each side of her head, and massaged her temples as she did when she had a headache coming on.

  "So, you're still not dating, and you're buying a house—needlessly, I might add—together?" She looked at Arnold, her eyes begging for sympathy. "I do not comprehend this world."

  "I believe it is not uncommon for friends to purchase properties together in the city, ma'am," the butler supplied helpfully.

  She sighed. "Very well. I suppose I can find a restaurant who would have me tonight—after all, it's just me, I won't be very hard to squeeze in, now, will I?"

  Finn glared at Anna, pointedly.

  "I'll let them know I'm willing to bypass the entree—I can just stay for a starter, or even a small little canape."

  Anna gave in. "How about you come eat with us, Arabella?"

  His mother didn't even bother feigning surprise. "Oh, you think I could? Lovely, dear. I'll go get changed in that case."

  The moment she disappeared, leaving a whiff of Chanel No. 5 behind, he and Anna both fell down on the sofa.

  "Sorry, sorry," she said. "I caved under pressure."

  "She's going to direct every single aspect of our lives until she leaves. And apparently, she's staying until the wedding. How do you deal with it, Arnold?" Finn asked the butler, who'd started to clean up the tea set.

  The British gentleman smiled. "Arabella is the fruit of her education—but she's also kind, thoughtful…and she pays me extremely well."

  Fair.

  "Why is she always dissecting me that way, though? My hair, and my shoulders sagging, and my job…you remember when she said I'd put on a bit of weight?"

  Finn winced. He'd had to buy a lot of chocolate to make up for that. "She dissects you because she likes you," he told her.

  Anna snorted. "Yeah, right."

  "I do believe the young master is correct. Mrs. Johnson often speaks of you quite fondly, and proudly, to her acquaintances, Miss Bullen."

  She blinked. "For real?"

  "Have you seen her room full of dolls? She's always wanted a daughter. Mom never quite knew what to do with Trick—or me, for that matter—but she would have dressed you up and pampered you if you'd let her."

  Anna was shaking her head. "No way. And she's always on my case about dating you, like she thought I was only friends with you because I wanted in your bed."

  If only that had been true.

  "If I may, I believe you're quite mistaken, ma'am," Arnold said, taking the tray to the kitchen, and leaving them alone.

  Anna was still pouting.

  "Come on, let's cheer you up. We have a tree that needs decorations."

  Chapter 16

  "Anna dear, that's the fish fork, you want to use the one on your right for your salad."

  Actually, she wanted to use the one on her right to stab Arabella Johnson in the eye, but she smiled, and switched her fork.

  The restaurant was amazing—the single most stylish, fancy and opulent restaurant she'd ever stepped inside. She wasn't sure how Finn had managed a reservation on such short notice.

  They'd been decorating the Christmas tree when Arabella had appeared in an elegant blue gown, pointedly staring at Anna, and demanding to know when she intended to get changed. For once, Anna had reason to thank the old crone's pushiness. Not that she would have gone out in her work clothes, but Anna was wearing one of her best dresses because of her—she would have felt uncomfortable in anything else, here.

  Finn had booked them in for a tasting menu—they were eating eighteen courses; tiny little plates that look like art. On the first five, Anna had wished that the portions were bigger; now they were at the seventh, and she started to understand why they weren't. By the end of the eighteen courses, they'd have to carry her out of here with a wheelbarrow.

  "Mom, have you told Trick you're attending the wedding?" Finn asked.

  "Not yet, no," Arabella replied, to no-one's surprise. "I will call Lucinda tomorrow, and ask how I may be of assistance."

  "I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Anna said.

  What she meant was, she was sure Lucy would yell "why" and beg the gods to intervene.

  "Is she starting to show?" Arabella asked.

  Anna groaned. Finn sighed. "Lucy isn't pregnant, mom."

  "Oh, well then her little friend, Cassie, is, right? Why, otherwise, would they inconvenience everyone and rush into a wedding?"

  "Because they can. Besides, Lucy had a very hard childhood, and hasn't often celebrated Christmas. This is very special for them."

  The subtext was, "please don't ruin it," but Anna doubted that Mrs. Johnson got that.

  "Oh, well. I suppose it's understandable. But enough of them, I'll catch up soon enough. Tell me about this house of yours."

  Arabella could be a good listener when she wanted to—and also a terrific story-teller. Her anecdotes about her travels never failed to make Anna long for a holiday. The woman could be pleasant, and tonight, she was just that.

  "I'm very jealous, Arabella," she said when the woman was done showing pictures of her latest winter holiday.

  "Envy is a pointless emotion. You can just visit Lapland yourself, you know."

  And she truly believed that the world was her oyster.

  "Not all of us have billions at their disposal."

  "Make Finn take you; you know he will. From the very start, day one, you could make him do anything you wanted."

  Anna blinked.

  "Mom, Anna has never forced me into anything I didn't want to do," Finn said firmly.

  Arabella shrugged. "That's my point, young man. She doesn't need to force you at all. You used to be so very undisciplined before you two started to associate."

  "Mom."

  Finn's tone held a warning. Anna was a little lost.

  "Finn's never been undisciplined. That was Trick."

  Arabella laughed harder now. "What a joke! Oh, Patrick had his little—well, tricks, with the computers and all that." She waved her hand dismissively, like she was considering it a minor incident, when Trick had hacked Homeland Security for fun as a teen. "But Finn? Finn was trouble. Fights at school, bad grades…"

  "Mother, that's enough of a trip down memory lane, don't you think?"

  "Then, in he came, with a pretty little girl in tow, telling us we had to let you stay because you weren't happy at home. You looked positively Romanesque, in your red dress and headband; I remember it well. So, Peter took him aside, and said, you be good, do your homework, stay out of trouble, and she can stay. Fast forward twenty-one years, and we have a successful Ivy League-educated lawyer. God knows what we would have made of him otherwise."

  "I was nine," Finn reminded her. "Kids are stupid. Big deal."

  "You were smitten, and she had you by the little finger. Still does. You two need to cut all that nonsense short and tie the knot soon. I won't live forever, you know. And if I miss your wedding, believe me when I say my ghost will haunt that pretty little penthouse of yours."

  Chapter 17

  Finn didn't remember the last time he'd been so exhausted. Probably the last time his mother had visited. After entirely taking over what should have been a pleasant date with Anna—their very first date—she also took over tree decorating, stating that they'd done it all wrong. Apparently, it was important to stick to a color scheme. Arabella banished all blue balls, gold garland, and pink snowflakes, only keeping the red and gold ones. Damn her, but it did look much better that way. Finn muttered all the way.

  "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll retire for the evening."

  "Please do," Finn supplied eagerly.

  He collapsed on the blue sofa. Anna soon appeared, two glasses of brandy in hand. She handed him one.

  "To her credit, Arabella hasn't complained about the sofa," she noted.

  "Yet. I'm gonna see if it's possible to get the keys early. I won't survive three weeks with her in the house."

  "You did survive eighteen years in her house," Anna reminded hi
m.

  Finn shrugged. "It wasn't the same, with Dad around. He…tempered her. She said something rude, and he'd just call her out on it."

  "Like you do. And Lucy, too. I consider it a superpower. I just can't stand up to her. She's just so…"

  "High-handed. Annoying. And yes, I call her out. The difference is, she used to actually listen to Dad—me, she ignores."

  He flipped the TV on, and started the next episode of Game of Thrones, frustrated. The evening had definitely not gone according to plan; he'd meant to try to show Anna that dating him would be fun—his mother had tagged along, started to share embarrassing stories, and now they were just doing the usual, watching stupid shows they'd seen dozens of times.

  "Thanks for getting the tree by the way. It looks lovely."

  Finn glanced at it. It did. The oversized lounge almost felt homey for once.

  "And we have extra decorations for the rest of the house!"

  "Why didn't we ever do this, if you're so excited about Christmas stuff," he pondered out loud.

  Anna smiled. "I guess I didn't actually think it'd be fun. At home, Hanukkah was huge—a lot of food, and presents for everyone; always stuff that I hadn't asked for and didn't need. I didn't see the point. But I'm not a little girl, it's not my parents' rules anymore. We've done presents every year—and I always love them. Just doing it on our terms is cool."

  "On my mother's terms, you mean."

  Anna laughed. "Whatever. She had a point. It looks a lot better now. And if you really feel like it, we can add all the colorful ones when we move it to the new place."

  Finn hesitated. "I'll get a new tree. We might as well leave this one for Mom, if she's staying in town."

  For a time, they watched the rest of the show in silence. "I didn't know Peter made you behave for letting me stay, you know."

  He'd wondered when she'd bring it up.

  He shrugged.

  "You know Dad. He wasn't one to miss an opportunity. And it worked. Honestly, I was dealing with typical younger brother syndrome at the time—all their attention was on Trick, the smart one, and I was frustrated. I didn't calm down because they made me—I calmed down because I got some attention elsewhere. You've always been a great friend."

  "So were you."

  Finn glanced at her, and smiled, before grabbing her legs, and extending them over his lap. She was wearing pretty red polished flat shoes and thick tights with her green dress. He removed the shoes, and pressed his thumb on her foot, hard.

  Anna yelled, a scream ending in a moan that made him laugh. "Careful now. Do that again and Mom and Arnold will entirely mistake what I'm doing to you," he said softly, pressing down from her big toes to her heel.

  "Holy fuck! It hurts so fucking good."

  He abandoned the right foot, and attacked the left. "You're very tense," Finn noted.

  She wasn't the only one. His somnolent dick, that shouldn't have gotten involved right now, twitched in his pants, her voice tricking it into believing it was time to play. Down, boy.

  Deciding that his body didn't need any more stimulus, he dropped the foot on his lap.

  "What the hell was that!" Anna demanded to know.

  Finn shrugged. Hell if he knew.

  "I didn't know you were good with your hands."

  He chuckled. "Well, you didn't ask."

  "Can you do my back? My shoulder is killing me today."

  Finn hesitated for a second, before carefully saying, "Sure. Sit up."

  Wrong answer. Wrong turn. Abort mission. All retreat.

  But she sat up, and moved her hair to her left shoulder. Finn moved behind her on the sofa, his legs parted either side of her, and pressed both of his hands hard into her shoulders.

  "Mhhhh…"

  Fuck. His dick was fully awake now, firmly pushing against his zipper. He was glad he'd changed into jeans—his suit trousers would have been helpless to conceal the raging hard on.

  Finn did his best, finding and massaging tension through her neck, back, shoulder, then her arm, and shoulder blades.

  He'd touched Anna, many times. Hugged her, held her close against him; but he'd never touched her like this, conscious of her every curve, feeling her softness and hardness.

  "All right, done."

  She turned sharply, her eyes wide. Then, the damn witch pouted. "But it feels so good! Please don't stop yet. If you show me how to, I'll do you next."

  Each word that had come out of her mouth had been entirely innocent, he saw it in her eyes, and heard it in her voice. Damn her for making this awkward as fuck for him without even noticing it.

  "Maybe tomorrow. Time for bed. We have to be up early tomorrow."

  She rolled her eyes. "It's only ten." They rarely crashed before midnight. "Come on, just until the end of the episode."

  "I can't, dudette."

  She wasn't used to his saying no to her, so of course, she questioned it. "Are you tired already? Did you sleep badly?"

  "Very," he replied. That wasn't entirely a lie. Then, he decided that he didn't need to lie at all. Not after their talk on the previous day. "But I can't touch you any more tonight, because it's making me want to touch you, Anna."

  She gasped, her perfect little mouth opening up. It certainly didn't help matters.

  "Oh."

  "Yes, oh. Now, move your pretty ass. Time for bed."

  Her eyes went down to the bulge in his pants, and grew wider yet. For a moment, she just stared at his crotch, and then her eyes returned to his. He laughed at her expression.

  The next moment, he wasn't laughing at all.

  Chapter 18

  She didn't know what had come over her. Could she claim temporary insanity? Something like that. But instead of moving her ass, like Finn had suggested, what she moved was her hand. It might just be an optical effect because of the pants, or the light, or whatever, but his cock did look so very big and hard, and next thing she knew, she was touching it through the jeans.

  Finn sucked in through his teeth, as if her light touch had been a shock.

  It also felt very big, as her hand followed the length from tip to base. And thick, too.

  "Anna..."

  "Hm?" she replied, eyes still fixed on his crotch.

  "Do you know what you're doing?"

  Did she? She wasn't sure, but she wasn't stopping. "Answering a question, I suppose."

  Her fingers worked on the metallic top button of his jeans, and then pulled his zipper down.

  Finn grabbed her wrist and said, "Look at me."

  She glanced up, finding his brown eyes fixed on her.

  "How much did you have to drink?"

  She rolled her eyes. "A glass of wine at dinner, and half a brandy now. I'm not drunk."

  "You're something."

  She bit her lip. Yes, that she was. "Maybe a little horny. Maybe a little curious, too."

  Finn fixed her under his penetrating gaze for another moment, before letting go of her hand.

  "All right. Not here."

  The next instant, he was on his feet, pulling her with him effortlessly; he was carrying her like a child, an arm behind her knees. She held on to his neck.

  "The weight lifting is definitely working out, I see."

  "I'd be considerably more concerned about my cardio if I were you. I do have great stamina."

  "Words. I find that men rarely follow them up."

  "Do you, now..."

  Finn had reached the door of his room. He stopped in front of it. "Anna, this is not worth it if it's going to ruin our friendship. We can't afford to regret this. We can't be awkward, or distant. We can't destroy us."

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "So, are you sure you want to play with me tonight?"

  "I'm sure."

  So very fucking sure she was practically trembling, her insides on fire.

  He walked in.

  Finn's room was a familiar domain—she knew it well. He had a king-size four poster bed, dark wood, with a simple frame. His sheets wer
e always white. He had no apparent furniture in the rom except for a bedside table either side of the bed, but the far side wall on the left, covered with mirrors, concealed a large wardrobe. He dropped her to her feet gently, and stood in front of her, unmoving. Anna self-consciously stepped forward, and returned to the task she'd started: undoing his zipper. Once she was done, she slid it down his thick thighs. She gasped. Finn wasn't wearing any boxers; his cock flew straight up, so close to her face she couldn't help herself--she closed her mouth around its tip.

  "Fucking hell, Anna," he swore, half-laughing. "Give a man a—" now he groaned, as she took him further in her mouth, and sucked. "Warning. Or don't. You can just...yeah. Do whatever you want."

  And so, she did. Sitting on the floor, she grabbed onto the back of his thighs and continued sucking on his cock. Finn moved his hips backward and forward. She looked up to his eyes, and found him watching her. His hand went around her head, and his fingers threaded her hair, caressing her scalp.

  “Hell! You know, you don't have to..."

  She smiled around his cock, and sucked harder, moving her head faster, and taking him deeper at each of his thrusts. She knew he wasn't going to last, and she seriously hoped he hadn't lied about his stamina, because she definitely wasn't done with his thick, eight-inch cock.

  Anna let go of his thighs, her hand circling his ass. Damn, it was a thing of glory, as firm as she'd imagined it to be.

  "I'm gonna... Anna you should remove your mouth, I'm—"

  She held on to his ass harder, sucking long and hard, taking him directly into her throat as he came, and came, panting and groaning.

  Anna finally unhooked her mouth from him.

  "Holy fuck."

  She laughed. "It wasn't very holy, actually."

  "Are you sure? Pretty positive I saw stars. Damn, girl. Come here. I want you to sit on my face."

  Finn lay down on his bed, and crooked one finger to her.

  "I'm not too much into receiving oral, actually," she said, joining him nonetheless.