Finn (All In Book 1)

by Liz Meldon

  And it truly was a sight to behold. Skye could never watch other people fuck—maybe porn, if she was in the mood—but there was something uniquely thrilling about watching herself being taken by an almost stranger. A man so stunning that she still wondered why her—why all the effort? There were plenty of women here who would have been less of a challenge.

  But all her worries, her thoughts, melted away as he slid in and out of her. Never completely. They were always in contact, one way or another. Be it the caress of his lips along her ear, the thickness of his cock filling her sex, or the fiery hold of his gaze when their eyes met in the mirror; contact was essential. With one hand pressed to the mirror for support, she twined her other through his hair, reaching behind, arching herself for him, noting the groan he made when she did. While his pace quickened somewhat, it was always steady. Rhythmic and constant. Ever-present. Like the pounding of her heart. No longer racing, it seemed to beat in time with their lovemaking…

  Or was it fucking?

  Skye didn’t mind either term; they both suited Finn Rai. The way he pursued her, the way he pleasured her—that was fucking. The way he looked at her, kissed her, toyed with her clit—that was lovemaking. There was room for both.

  “To me,” he whispered, mouth trailing along her jawline as his pace quickened, skilled fingers dragging her to the edge—and Skye was more than willing to take the plunge, “there’s nothing sexier than watching a woman enjoy herself. Nothing I like more than tasting her pleasure, watching it unfurl…”

  “From women everywhere, I s-salute you,” she said, her words breathier than she would have liked. The bite had vanished. The bark too. All Skye had left was surrender—and god damn did she bask in it.

  Her hand tore from his hair, which earned her a kiss from the gorgeous man behind her, and Skye braced it against the mirror as he thrust harder, faster, his fingers working her into a desperate frenzy—until the floodgates parted, until the levies broke, until the sky opened and drowned the earth. She came with a soft cry this time, eyes screwed shut as she rode out wave after wave of pleasure. Finn cursed when she clenched hard around him, and before she knew it, he was dragging her away from the granite countertop and pressing her back against the wall.

  It happened so fast she almost had to pinch herself, so lost in her climax that the movements of her body felt foreign—like they weren’t hers, like she was merely watching someone else, but from their point of view.

  Finn’s kiss revived her. Reality slammed back into her in time with his lips—kissing her as though he feared he might lose her. Still tingling with pleasure and heat, Skye cupped his face and kissed him back. She didn’t have to fear she’d lose him. Skye had him. And in that moment, she really didn’t want to let him go.

  Finn hiked her legs up, wrapping them around his waist, then slipped himself back into her. She winced, straddling the line between pleasure and pain as he filled her. He gave her a moment, gliding his fingers over her hips and the gentle swell of her breasts.

  “Are you okay?” he murmured thickly. Skye nodded. “You sure?”

  “Just peachy,” she told him. “Seriously. I can take what you dish out—”

  Another kiss, this time to swallow her words. Skye wrapped her arms around him, gulping down air when Finn buried his face against her neck—and finally just fucked her. There were no words. No teasing philosophies about women and their pleasure whispered against her skin. They were just a man and a woman, locked in each other’s arms, as Finn pounded into her. Searching for his own pleasure, one he had certainly earned at this point. Skye hung on for the ride, easing away from the sharpness of each thrust, steadily filled with a gentle, more subdued pleasure. She gripped his hair, tugging ever so slightly when he nipped at her shoulder.

  He took her hard and fast. Roughly. Savagely. But it was still lovemaking.

  At least, that was how Skye saw it. Because when he kissed her, his pace stuttering off and his face flushed, there was no mistaking what this was.

  Finn came with a soft groan, their mouths barely touching, open to one another in an almost-kiss. His whole body stiffened, then slowly relaxed against her, with Skye twirling his hair around her fingers rather than pulling at it. Combing it. Scratching his scalp as he sighed contentedly, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

  “That was…” He exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. No words. Skye grinned, totally on the same page.

  “Fucking awesome?”

  “You Americans,” he muttered as he slowly eased out of her, then patiently waited for her to straighten herself out before backing away. “So brash.”

  She smirked, ignoring the tremors skittering through her body, the hot and ever-present flush spreading from her cheeks to the hilt of her sex. “But honest?”

  “Sometimes.” Finn appeared a little unsteady as he stumbled back and plopped down on the edge of the jacuzzi tub. “In this instance, I certainly hope so.”

  While she had the sudden urge to climb onto his lap and just hug him, Skye resisted. Instead, she wobbled over to the sinks, turning her head away as he disposed of the condom, and hopped onto the cold countertop.

  “I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself,” she told him, which made his eyes narrow slightly, his smile unsure.

  “I can always try to prove my worth—”

  She held up her hands, laughing. “No, you’ve proved your worth. I can’t go again.”

  Finn’s smile brightened as he stretched his long legs out, his brown skin covered in a scant smattering of black hairs. She found the way he rolled out his ankles oddly endearing, like they were both passengers on a long-haul flight.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.

  “You should.”

  They watched one another, just as before, but this time it was Finn who reached out for Skye. He did so with a casual toss of his head and a twitch of his lips, and soon enough, she left the countertop behind, colliding in a sweet kiss that, for the first time, didn’t steal her breath or her words—but a little piece of her heart.

  6

  Lovemafucking Has Consequences

  A knock at the door a half hour later jolted them from their conversation. Skye and Finn had been sitting opposite one another in the jacuzzi, sans water, and chatting—which, to be fair, was the last thing Skye had thought a man like Finn would want to do post-sex. She’d figured he’d be out of there like a shot, and she wouldn’t have faulted him for that. Amazing fucking—or, whatever, lovemaking—at a sex party didn’t exactly lend itself to cuddling afterward. Skye assumed it would be onto the next conquest, but there they were, talking about chocolate empires and shitty job interviews like they’d been friends for years.

  “Just a moment,” Finn muttered, hopping out of the tub and crossing the bathroom with a few quick strides of those long legs. He’d slipped his black briefs on a while ago after complaining the tub was too cold to sit in totally nude, but Skye found it just the right antidote to her sore nether regions. Four years of nothing and then, out of nowhere, ravenous lovemafucking? Yeah. She’d definitely be feeling it tomorrow.

  He returned a few moments later with her dress hanging over his arm—clean. Her eyebrows shot up, and she set aside the glass of water she’d been nursing.

  “Is that…?”

  “As promised,” he announced, unfurling it and shaking it out. “Not perfect, but better than if I’d left you to your own devices.”

  Sure enough, most of the red wine stain had totally vanished. She only noticed a faint pink outline if she squinted hard enough. Impressive.

  “Hey, I could have…” She laughed when he cocked his head to the side, waiting. “Okay, no, I would have totally ruined the dress. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Finn handed it back to her, and she resisted the urge to rub the just-out-of-the-dryer warmth against her cheek. “Listen, I don’t know how long you intended to be here tonight—”

  “An hour, tops,” she said, Cole’s words
a distant memory. Thinking about him plucked at the guilt strings within her, unseen fingers twanging each one and watching them vibrate. Cole. Where the hell was Cole?

  “Well, if you’re leaving, then perhaps—”

  “But I’ve been here more than an hour already,” Skye told him. “So, what’s up?”

  His expression shifted from its cautious optimism to something a little giddier, which she appreciated. All these moguls, Cole included, were so tight-lipped about their emotions. Finn was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one.

  “I need to fetch a few things, but why don’t you get dressed?” He grabbed his shirt off the ground, but didn’t button it up, then slipped into his trousers. “I’ll take you on a tour of the back gardens, maybe we can go down to the beach?”

  Her eyes flickered to her purse, long abandoned on the bathroom counter. She hadn’t heard her phone go off once since she’d arrived. Cole hadn’t asked after her. Was he still playing poker, or had he found a girl he actually wanted to take to bed? Skye swallowed hard.

  “Sure. Why not? I bet the view’s beautiful this time of night.”

  “Clear skies,” Finn noted. “We can probably see Jupiter from here.”

  He winked, then darted out of the room, leaving her grinning like an idiot—a grin that faded in his absence, those invisible fingers plucking at the guilt strings even harder.

  No. Stop that. She didn’t deserve to feel guilty. Cole had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to maintain their friendship, the kind of bond she had with no one else in her life, so why force something that might ruin it? The contract had only said she couldn’t have any public relationships. Sex was mentioned in reference to Skye and Cole, not Skye and gorgeous strangers at swanky parties.

  It wasn’t like she’d cheated. She and Cole weren’t in a personal, intimate relationship. Well, not a romantic one, anyway. In public, sure. Skye dragged the dress Cole had purchased over her head, catching her furrowed brow in the mirror. She and Cole were friends. Maybe more. But maybe not. Not officially. He hadn’t insisted she be celibate for the last four years—it was a decision she had made all on her own.

  She squared her shoulders, then climbed out of the tub and stood in front of the mirror.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said firmly, then ruffled her hair. No matter how many times she repeated those words, the guilt didn’t go away.

  And that wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to Finn, and probably not to Cole.

  Cole didn’t want her.

  “Shake it off, girl.” She leaned in and did what she could to fix her smudged makeup. “It’s just for tonight.”

  Swallowing whatever weird mishmash of emotion that stilted her movements and muddied her thoughts, Skye primped, checked out the quality of her laundered dress, and sat around twiddling her thumbs. Eventually, she moved on to playing with her phone, something she did so rarely that she had no idea what to even do on there. After a quick email check—no job offers—she added her underwear to her intricate lingerie get-up, one that she couldn’t wait to take off now, and left the bathroom for the first time in what felt like hours.

  No Finn.

  Frowning, she retraced her steps back to where this had all begun: that fateful corner where two drunk girls had made her spill red wine all over herself. Still no Finn. The enormous house had quieted down in her absence, but a glance out the windows overlooking the back gardens and beach suggested most of the party had just moved outside, with and without their clothes.

  Skye drummed her fingers on the ledge, breathing in the warm night air as an ocean-side breeze billowed across the property. Had Finn bailed on her? Had she misread him completely?

  “Skye?”

  She whirled around, heart leaping into her throat, as Cole’s voice echoed down the sparsely furnished corridor. He strode toward her with a familiar smile on his face, the kind that always affected her from head to toe. It still did, but in that moment, prickly guilt struck her, not flirtatious affection.

  “Hey,” she managed when he kissed her cheek. “Where’ve you been?”

  “The game went on much longer than I’d anticipated,” he said with a huff. “And by game, I don’t mean poker.”

  She forced a laugh. “I figured as much.”

  “I hope you weren’t too bored.” He dug out his phone when it chirped in his pocket, brow puckering slightly as he tapped around on the screen. “Are you ready to go? It’s a fucking madhouse in here.”

  “Yeah… All those…sexual deviants.” Why did she feel like this? Cole didn’t want her like she wanted him. He’d made it perfectly clear over the last four years. She shouldn’t feel guilty. Being with Finn had been like coming up for air after living on the edge of drowning. Not that Cole had ever dragged her below the water’s surface, but maybe it was just the situation.

  Cole slipped his phone away before appraising her. “You all right? You look a little…” Those bright eyes swept over her, assessing her with the attention to detail he was known for. “Flushed.”

  “I’ve had a few to drink,” she told him, which wasn’t a lie. She was just more drunk on Finn Rai than she was on alcohol. “We can go if you’re finished.”

  His head bobbed in agreement, though Skye didn’t miss the slight clench of his jaw. A flicker. A twitch of the muscle. It was a tic he’d never been able to hide whenever something bothered him.

  “Yes, let’s get out of this den of lust,” he said, his chuckle sounding just as forced as hers had, “before we see something that neither of us will be able to forget.”

  Skye folded her arms over her chest. “Agreed.”

  They set out together, Cole seeming to know his way around the mansion better than her, but not ten steps down the hall did Skye hear her name bouncing off the walls again. Finn. She tensed at the sound of thundering footsteps, as though he were running. When he flew around the corner, he came to a sudden stop, eyes darting swiftly between her and Cole—a bottle of champagne in hand.

  “Finn!” Cole greeted, his tone suggesting a connection between them that Skye had never heard of before. “How’re you, man? I’d hoped I’d see the host before we left. It’s been, what, five years since you were actually living in this country? I’d thought you had just rented the place out, not that you were throwing this soiree yourself…”

  The two moved toward each other, hands extended and grasped. All the while Finn appeared to be trying very hard not to look at her.

  “I thought you didn’t show,” Finn told him. “Did you get everything you needed? Bernard give you any trouble? I swear to God, that fucking greasy little prick—”

  “No, I got him. It’s all settled.”

  Skye fiddled with her dress, unsure where she fit in this unexpected turn of events. Of course, she assumed those who ran in Cole and Finn’s elite circles knew each other, but the way the pair spoke to one another, the way their body language read, suggested this was more than a casual acquaintanceship. This was friendship. She tried and failed to swallow the lump growing in her throat.

  “Listen, are you two, er, heading out?” Finn rustled the bottle of Pinot Noir suggestively while Cole shook his head.

  “No, no, I dragged this one out here with the promise that we’d be gone in an hour,” he insisted, holding a hand out to Skye with a breezy smile. “I think we’d best be off.”

  Stiff legs carried her to him, and she slid her hand into his, noting the way Finn’s gaze followed the movement.

  “Do you two know each other?” Cole asked, motioning between them. Skye almost lied and said no, but then she remembered Finn had been shouting her name as he hunted her down, face full of giddy mischief.

  “We just met tonight,” Skye told him. “Finn was going to give me a tour of the beach.”

  There it was again: the jaw flicker. A brief clench. The gesture noted by both she and Finn, who had tucked the champagne behind his back. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked between her and Cole, and moments later,
a frightening look of awareness, like he knew her most intimate secret, surfaced.

  “Wait, Cole, is Skye your—”

  “Listen, thanks for hosting,” Cole said curtly, “and, you know, for telling me Bernard would be here. He’s been annoyingly difficult to track down, even for me.”

  “Yeah…” Finn sounded distracted, still studying her and Cole with a startling sharpness that made the man holding her hand fidget. “Sure. Of course.” Finn cleared his throat, suddenly more present. “I know how long you’ve been gunning for him. I figured it was time to end your silly cat-and-mouse charade before it got boring, right?”

  “I appreciate it.” Cole let go of her hand in order to shake Finn’s, this time with a noticeable sense of finality. “Again, thank you. I’m sure it was a lovely party, but we’ve got to be going.”

  “Of course. Get your assistant to pencil something in with mine before you jet off again.”

  “Sure. We’ll do lunch. I’ve got this fantastic new personal chef at the house… The things he can do with raw fish will astound you.”

  Skye just stood there, waiting for it all to end. The way something had seemed to click in Finn’s eyes when he looked between them—did he know the true nature of her and Cole’s relationship? Were they close enough that Cole would actually share that with him? Perhaps not her name, but maybe…

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Skye.”

  She snapped out of her thoughts, smiling brightly as she always did at these sorts of things when someone actually paid attention to her. “Yes. It was really nice to meet you, Mr. Rai.”

  Fuck. He seemed almost disappointed with her, but the look was gone before she could confirm it. Cole snagged her hand again, and, after a few more pleasantries, they were off. Neither said a word, not even as they descended that enormous stairwell down the hilly front lawn of the house.

  Finn’s house.

  Cole had said he was the host.