by Kelly, Hazel
“You’re going to make me come,” she whimpered, digging her fingers into my hair and clenching fistfuls of it. So I lapped at her harder, wrapping my hands around her thighs so she couldn’t shy away from her need.
When she finally cried out and thrust her chest towards the sky, I drank the pleasure that spilled from her while she tangled her hands in her own hair. Then I kissed her swollen bud one last time, wiped my wet mouth across her smooth inner thigh, and crawled over her.
“Okay,” she panted as I pushed her hair from her face. “I’m convinced.”
I arched a brow and searched her twinkling eyes.
“Best movie ever made.”
I laughed, my heart seizing at her radiance. “Go to bed with me,” I said, aching for her so much it hurt. Never in my life had I missed a woman before I’d even held her in my arms. “Stay the night.”
T W E N T Y F I V E
- Maeve -
I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that Finn’s tongue had triggered a chemical reaction in my body so strong I probably would’ve done anything he asked of me in that moment. So agreeing to stay the night? It was a no-brainer.
Even if all we did was lie on the couch like this, the weight of his body on mine, that was fine by me. Then again, there was something animal in his eyes, something hard. Like the rest of him.
He peeled himself away and stood up, inviting my eyes to sweep from the bulge in his jeans to his toned chest to his face.
I pushed my dress down like I hadn’t already shown him my most secret parts. “What?” I asked, feeling intimidated by the intensity of his expression. “Thinking about drawing me like one of your French girls?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, bending over to scoop me up.
I’ve been scooped, I thought. Holy shit. He didn’t even groan when he lifted me. Nor had he asked permission. He just scooped me. Like I was easy pickin’s.
“Let’s continue the tour,” he said, walking around the couch and heading for a cracked door across the room.
“The tour of your apartment?” I asked, linking my hands behind his head.
“That, too,” he said, kicking the door open with his foot.
The room was dark apart from the light pouring through the doorway…until Finn closed the door in poor Otis’s face. The dog barked once, whimpered, and then who knows? Maybe he sauntered off. Maybe he was listening at the door. I wasn’t worried about anything except getting my bearings, since all I could see was the glowing clock beside the bed.
Finn lowered me down beside it, our breathing strangely audible in the moment before he flicked the light on.
“Hi,” I said, admiring how handsome his face looked in the dim light before I scanned our surroundings. Unfortunately, the residual numbness in my legs made it hard for me to care about the details of the space, though I managed to clock a disorganized bookshelf and a long dresser with a mirror over it. “This is where you sleep, I take it?”
“Not tonight,” he said, his hands bunching the bottom of my dress.
I swallowed and lifted my arms, my body breaking out in goosebumps as cool air hit my stomach and back. “Don’t get too excited,” I said when his eyes dropped to my chest. “There’s not as much boob there as it looks like.”
He lifted his eyes. “You’re perfect.”
I bit my bottom lip and wondered how we got here. A half hour ago we were watching a movie, nothing but relaxed friendliness between us, and now we were… I don’t know what we were. All I knew was that I felt like putty in his hands, and it was thrilling and scary at the same time. Being on his turf. Playing by his rules. It was a rush.
And I could see that he wanted me. All of me. And I was afraid if I played coy, he might not take me, and I really, really wanted to be taken by him. I reached behind me and unhooked the clasp of my bra, aching for another kiss. His eyes dripped down me, his jaw clenching when he saw how my darkened nipples strained towards him. I’d never felt sexier in my life.
I dropped my eyes to his belt, and he read my mind, pulling the leather strap loose so the buckle came undone, the soft jingle as loud as a foghorn.
“Finn.”
“What?” he asked, pushing his pants and boxers down. He grabbed his cock and watched me as he stroked it slowly from base to tip in a way that seemed restrained. As if he were hesitant to unleash it. Then he pulled the drawer of his nightstand open and grabbed a condom.
“Let me,” I said, eager to touch him.
He handed me the foil wrapper, and my hands trembled as I ripped it open, my heart pounding so hard I wondered if he could hear it.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said as I reached for him.
I froze and met his gaze.
“If you don’t want to.”
“I do,” I said, searching his eyes. “Don’t you?”
“‘Want’ isn’t a strong enough word.”
I licked my lips as I grabbed him, rolling the condom on carefully. Not because I wanted to torture him, but because I found his girth intimidating.
His strong hand grabbed one side of my face, and he looked at me like he was already deep inside me. But instead of speaking, he leaned down and kissed me again, letting me taste myself on his lips as his free hand found my breast.
The kiss was surprisingly tender, and it caught me off-guard. I guess I expected him to devour me after his performance in the living room. But if I didn’t know better, I’d think he had feelings for me, feelings that ran deeper than physical attraction.
His thumb circled my nipple, each pass making me wetter and wetter. “Lie back,” he said finally, nudging me against the high bed.
I sat down, scooted back, and leaned onto my elbows so I could watch him crawl over me. But he didn’t. Instead, he bent my legs and dragged the tip of his need through my silk, letting me watch as he traced my entrance, teasing me until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Then he pushed inside me.
My head fell back as he sank deep, stretching me so I couldn’t feel anything but how thick he was. And when I gasped for breath, I lifted my head, watching as he buried himself inside me, his hands squeezed around my thighs and his eyes…on my face.
“Your body,” he said, groaning instead of finishing the sentence.
By his third thrust I was higher than I’d ever been, and all I could feel was the heat he was pushing through me, the pressure he was building in my core with every rock of his hips.
Our eyes met a moment later, and there was nothing friendly about it. It was carnal. Primal. My whole body was a cocktail of vulnerability and longing and desperation. It was almost as if I craved his release as much as my own.
Soon the bed was shaking from the force of his slamming hips, and he straightened my legs so they framed his perfect chest as he fucked me, hitting me so deep my eyes watered as my fingers clutched his soft bedspread.
“Oh God,” I cried, as he stoked my burning belly. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded, moaning louder than I’d ever dared. And yes. I said yes so many times. Over and over again I said yes.
To how I was feeling. To what he was doing to me. And to him.
Because he was the part I couldn’t get enough of.
T W E N T Y S I X
- Finn -
She was a goddess, and I was in deep in more ways than one.
Not only was I fucking her, but I was falling for her, too. I could feel it all over, that sense of skidding across black ice. I wanted to stop, wanted to feel less, but it was impossible. And the more my eyes bounced between her flushed chest and her bee-stung lips, the more I began to fear that I was the one getting fucked.
Because she wasn’t supposed to feel this good, wasn’t supposed to draw me in like this.
She looked at me from under heavy eyelids like I had her heart in my hands instead of her thighs, and my lower body began to boil. I was going to come. Not because I wanted to and fucking deserved it, but because of her. Because of
how tight she was, how perfect. How totally fucking loveable.
The world around us blurred as she dominated my senses, and her pleading voice whimpered my name again and again. And God’s name, too. Along with a whole bunch of yeses that seemed tied to the rhythm of my hips. I never wanted the moment to end.
Until she proved me wrong by coming so hard her body took my orgasm from me by force, choking me so intensely I thought I might pass out.
I let go of her legs and fell forward, pinning her to the bed as I buried my face in the crook of her neck, my mind a cocktail of expletives and hallelujahs as our hearts pounded against one another.
Lord knows how long I lay like that, my heavy body on hers as her legs dangled off the side of the bed. For all I know I blacked out from the bliss of being inside her. I came to when she lifted her legs and curled them around my back, tilting her hips up like she was content to stay wrapped around me.
I took a deep breath and slid a hand beneath her, dragging her across the width of the bed to relieve our spent legs. Then I rolled onto my side and folded the comforter over us. When my eyes found hers again, they were smiling.
“If I’d known letting my hair down would be so much fun, I might’ve tried it sooner.”
I was too speechless to answer her, my brain a soup of incoherent thoughts on the same theme: how incredible she was.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
Her eyes popped wide. “You think so?”
“I might be better than okay.”
She laughed, and I felt it in my seriously exhausted cock.
Based on the way she talked about herself, I’d expected her to be paint-by-numbers when it came to sex. But she’d surprised me. Or rather, I’d misjudged her. She was liberated and empowered and didn’t need anyone’s permission to enjoy herself.
“You’re sure it’s okay if I stay the night?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Good. Because I can’t feel my legs and those heels are hard enough to walk in when I can so…”
“I insist.”
She smiled gratefully and laid a hand on the side of my face. “Thanks for that. That was really…”
My brows drifted up slowly. “Incredible? Earth shattering? Just what the doctor ordered?”
“Yes.” She blushed. “All those things.”
“Rest assured it was my pleasure,” I said, pulling away from her and slipping out of the bedsheet taco I’d folded us into. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water,” she said. “Please.”
“One water coming right up.” I grabbed my boxers off the floor. “Anything else?”
“Maybe check on Otis? I feel bad he got the door shut in his face.”
I paused when my hand reached the doorknob. “You know what he’d really like?”
“What?”
“To come check on you.”
She sat up, her dark hair a wild mess behind her bare shoulders. “I’d love that.”
“Just remember you asked for this,” I said, cracking the door. As expected, Otis squeezed his snout in before the rest of his body even had room to follow, and he was in bed with Maeve in less than three seconds, his tail wagging like she’d just returned from a long journey.
I smiled at the sound of her squealing as I walked to the kitchen, my mind and body joyfully wasted. After grabbing a glass, I quenched my thirst before filling it again for the gorgeous woman in my bed. The gorgeous woman I was supposed to be having fun with and nothing more. The gorgeous woman whose company made me forget what a miserable, self-interested jerk I was. The gorgeous woman who was shopping for sperm donors and—thanks to my big mouth—expected me to help her choose one. Ugh.
But as I headed back to the bedroom, the craziest thought I’ve ever had crossed my mind…
What if she chose me?
It was ridiculous. As ridiculous as it was impossible. After all, I didn’t want a girlfriend, much less a baby. Still, part of me wished I could give her everything she wanted. Because making her happy made me feel close to something I couldn’t quite name. Something it felt good to get close to. Something I’d have to enjoy while it lasted.
Because cuddly nights in with me and Otis would never be enough for her. And that hurt. Like all far-fetched dreams did.
On my return, I paused in the doorway for a moment and watched my best friend accept a belly rub from a woman he didn’t know he couldn’t get attached to. And if the pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth was anything to go by, it was too late for him, too.
T W E N T Y S E V E N
- Maeve -
Finn was still sleeping when I woke up, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw his strong back the moment I opened my eyes. Whose life is this, I thought. Because it wasn’t mine.
I was panty-less in an oversized Bob Marley T-shirt, strangely conscious of the area between my legs, the area where so many parts of the man lying beside me had been. No wonder women lost their minds over musicians. He’d pleasured me like there was nothing to it, like he could’ve done it blindfolded while playing “Wonderwall.”
But he wasn’t the only one who was surprised by how much I’d enjoyed myself. Not that I didn’t usually enjoy sex. I was just used to asking for what I wanted, either aloud or by not so subtly repositioning my partner’s hand. But Finn was a step ahead of me the whole time, conducting my pleasure like a skilled maestro.
I scooted up to a seated position slowly, smiling when I saw Otis raise his butterscotch brows from his curled position at the end of the bed. The room was still quite dark, but there was enough light peeking around the thick curtains that I was able to find my way to the bathroom.
I tiptoed over, shut myself inside, and studied my goofy expression in the mirror. I looked drunk. I wasn’t. If anything, I was feeling surprisingly rested considering I hadn’t slept in my own bed. My hair was a disaster, though. I could tell Finn liked it down, so I’d left it that way, but now I had a brunette bird's nest fit for a flock of gulls. My smudged eyeliner only added to the look, and his T-shirt cut across the top of my thighs, hanging just low enough to cover my private parts.
I peed and washed my hands before gently wiping the smudges under my eyes, thinking I hadn’t appeared this unhinged since college.
“Hey Maeve?” Finn asked through the door.
“Yeah?”
“There’s a basket of toiletries in the linen closet. You might find a toothbrush in there, if luck’s on your side.”
“Thanks,” I said, spinning around before I could pinch myself. Sure enough, right between two shelves of light blue towels, there was a small basket filled with an array of tiny hotel soaps, individually packaged Q-Tips, and the odd shoe polishing kit. Finn hadn’t struck me as the kind of guy who would hoard hotel freebies, but I was undeniably charmed by his casual hosting style. Then again, maybe he was used to having overnight guests.
My stomach dropped at the thought, and I hated myself for being so naïve. Just because I thought last night was special didn’t mean it was anything out of the ordinary for him. He was a happy bachelor and skilled songwriter. Of course he’d said all the right things. Making women feel desirable was probably both his greatest skill and curse in this life.
“I left a pair of pajama pants on the bed, too.”
I jumped, not realizing he was still outside the door.
“I’m not saying you have to put them on, but the dress you wore last night is a bit formal for breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. I squeezed some toothpaste onto the cheap plastic toothbrush he got from Hotel Madrid, wherever that was. Madrid probably? Whatever. My brain was mush, and HE HAD A FRESH TOOTHBRUSH FOR ME?!
The blinds were partially drawn when I opened the bathroom door, and I could hear Finn making noise in the kitchen as I stared at the striped pajama pants on the bed. Was it crazy to put his pants on? The shirt was
one thing, but his pants? Despite everything that happened last night, it seemed too intimate somehow. Then again, I was in no hurry to put my dress back on.
If my siblings could see me now, I thought as I pulled the pants on and tightened the drawstrings. The ends nearly covered my feet in their entirety, and I had to roll them up so they wouldn’t drag on the floor. Christ. Right when I thought my look couldn’t be improved, enter railroad conductor pants.
My urge to snoop was strong, and it was worsened by how tidy he was. It was easy to be nosy when people left their business everywhere, but all Finn’s crap was tucked away. Like he was hiding something. Surely, no one could be this relaxed and sexy and organized at the same time. But if he was a serial killer, why make me breakfast?
“Morning,” I said, wandering towards the kitchen.
“Morning.” He glanced over his shoulder at me before turning his attention back to the silver mixing bowl in his arms, which held something he was stirring with a wooden spoon.
My eyes fixated first on his thick forearms before drifting over his white T-shirt and down his grey sweatpants. “What are you making?” I asked, when I was done checking him out.
He nodded towards the waffle iron shining on the counter.
“I see,” I said, stopping on the far side of the butcher block. “Do you always make waffles after sleepovers?”
“No,” he said, setting the bowl down. “But if this goes well, I might start.”
I cocked a brow.
“I’ve only had the thing since Christmas, though, and I haven’t tested it yet so…apologies in advance if this is a disaster.”
“In that case, I suppose I feel less bad about you going to so much trouble.”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” he said. “It’s not like I made the batter from scratch.”