by Hayes, Lane
“Stop.” Finn covered my mouth in a searing kiss. He cupped my ass, digging his fingers in the seam of my khakis as he glided his tongue over mine. I was breathless when he pushed me back. “Lock the door.”
I stared at him for a moment in a daze. I couldn’t seem to process information fast enough. Finn stood and gestured meaningfully then smacked my ass to prod me along. I gulped but hurried to obey. I wondered idly if his secretary could hear the lock click and if she knew what we were doing. Hell, I wasn’t sure what we were doing. I had to be dreaming. Maybe I was stuck in a virtual reality where my mind conjured a sex scene in process but in reality, I was in line waiting for my venti latte. I was tempted to check my pockets to see if the wadded ten-dollar bill Talia had given me was still there or if I’d already handed it to the cashier. But when I moved back to the desk, I knew I wasn’t going back to the real world anytime soon.
Finn sat in his executive leather chair, loosening his tie. His rigid pole leaked precum on his shirttail. His fingers flew over the buttons in a mad rush as I approached the desk.
“Let me help you,” I said, sinking to my knees. I undid the last two buttons and pushed the fabric away. Then I looked up at him while I stroked his shaft.
“That feels nice, but I don’t have time to—oh…fuck.”
I swallowed him whole, taking as much of him as possible in one go. Then I backed off to suck the tip of his cock before trying again. I bobbed my head as I worked, licking him down one side then the other until he grabbed my hair and lifted his hips. I choked on his girth, but I didn’t stop. Kneeling between his spread thighs and sucking him to oblivion was how I wanted to spend the rest of my afternoon. This was heaven. He smelled and tasted amazing. And somehow, having my face buried in his lap under his desk felt safe. And that was crazy because there was nothing “safe” about Finn. He was rough and slightly out of control. He tugged my hair as he tested my gag reflex with a steady assault that made my eyes water. When I backed off to replenish my oxygen supply, he pulled me to my feet and forcefully turned me to face his desk.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh. Pants down. Hurry.”
I could feel him move behind me. His cock nudged me as he leaned sideways to grab supplies from his desk drawer. I started to make a crack about his impressive pharmaceutical selection. Band-Aids, Advil, Pepto Bismol, and yeah, condoms and lube. I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his desk when I heard the rip of a condom wrapper. He tapped his sheathed dick against my bare ass. I waited for the slick fingers at my entrance, mentally preparing myself for a quick, uncomfortable experience.
Finn ran his hands under my shirt, along my sides, and down my ass. I couldn’t tell if he was humming or talking softly to himself, but the gentle cadence soothed my nerves. I relaxed as he kneaded my flesh then shifted my hips back in invitation. He chuckled softly but didn’t take the hint.
“I thought we were on a time limit. Fuck me already,” I demanded.
“Oh, I will. Patience, Joshy. Patience.”
I glanced over my shoulder just as he sat in his chair. I furrowed my brow as I struggled to follow what he wanted me to do. He didn’t speak. He picked up the lube and poured a generous amount over his palm then stroked himself languidly. I watched his unhurried movement with growing lust. He wasn’t touching me at all, but being bent over his desk while he jacked his thick cock with his fancy suit around his ankles and the city behind him was pretty much the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
I was seconds away from begging when he set a single digit over my hole and pushed. I winced at the intrusion but it didn’t take long before I asked for another. He groaned when I arched my back and rode his fingers, tentatively at first and then faster.
“More, Finn,” I whimpered. I propped myself on my left elbow and spread my legs as wide as possible then reached down to push my own finger in with his. He smacked my ass twice in response and growled a command I couldn’t quite make out over the rush of blood to my head.
“Sit!”
Oh. Wow. Okay. I licked my lips as I glanced back at him then positioned his dick at my hole and slowly lowered myself. “Like this?”
“Just like that,” he said in a strangled tone. “Nice and easy.”
I didn’t want nice or easy. I wanted hard, rough, and nasty, but it always took a minute to adjust to his girth. He was big and it hurt. But when the first wave of pleasure took over, I set my hands on his thighs and rode him backward cowboy-style…minus the hat. Finn stroked me with a firm grip as I moved, but he let me control the tempo. For a while.
“Fuck, you feel good. Turn around, love.”
I didn’t hesitate. I carefully disengaged and stood long enough to kick off my shoes and shove my khakis down my legs. I stepped out of my clothes and bent to kiss him before straddling his thighs and climbing back onto his cock. Finn wrapped his arms around me and took over, lifting his hips rhythmically and demanding I meet him halfway, thrust for thrust. I held on to the back of his chair with both hands and devoured him with deep passionate kisses as he fucked me from below. I bit his lips then licked a trail along his jaw, loving the rough feel of his beard against my cheek.
“I could stay like this all day. Your cock in my ass. Your hands on my—”
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” Finn growled, clutching my cheeks and pumping madly.
I licked the shell of his ear and tugged his lobe between my teeth. “Come for me, baby. Come inside me.”
And he did. He buried his face in my shoulder and let out a muffled grunt as he bucked his hips hard in the throes of his release. When he finally went still, he glanced up at me with a bewildered look and then kissed me tenderly.
“This was the nicest surprise I’ve had in years,” he said with a wicked grin. “Hop off, Joshy.”
I complied, gesturing at my aching cock as I dismounted. “I have a problem here.”
“So I see. On the desk. Mind the files, please.”
Finn kissed the corner of my mouth as he gingerly stood to dispose of the condom and clean himself with the tissues on a nearby credenza. He redressed as he moved about the room, re-buttoning his shirt, tucking it in his suit pants, rezipping, rebuckling, and straightening his tie. Then he reclaimed his chair and scooted forward.
“You honestly don’t have to do much. Just put your fingers back inside me like—yes, that’s good. I’m so close.”
Finn crooked his fingers over my prostate as he lowered his head and sucked me. That was all it took. I pushed at his shoulder to warn him but he didn’t budge. He sucked a little harder as he finger-fucked me. And when I finally fell apart, he swallowed every last drop.
I gasped for breath as my heart thundered in my chest. Finn laid his head on my thigh for a moment then kissed it sweetly. Then he stood and cupped my neck to draw me close before covering my mouth with his and sharing my release. We made out for a minute or so, lost in a lazy, post-sex haze. It was too surreal to be kissing like we didn’t have a care in the world after what we’d just done. It felt magical. I didn’t want to let go.
A buzzer on the desk startled me back to reality.
“Mr. McLeod is on line one, Finn. He said all parties have logged into the conference call. Did you want him to begin without you?” his secretary inquired in a professional tone.
“Yes. Tell him I’ll join in a minute,” Finn instructed before turning to me with an apologetic half smile. “Out, serf. I have to get to work, and I believe you have a latte to see to.”
“I’m going, I’m going. Do you think she heard us?” I asked, hiking up my khakis and reassembling myself to something I hope didn’t scream “obvious ho.” My hair was the biggest issue, I mused as I tidied it in the window’s reflection.
“No. But she probably suspects we weren’t talking about grid networks.”
“Grid what? Never mind. I don’t care. I have to go and—” I stopped near the door and frowned. “I’ll see you tonight.” I moved to the door and set my hand
over the knob before turning to face him. “Thank you—”
Finn was right behind me. He backed me against the door and caged me between his arms. “Don’t thank me and don’t meet me at the restaurant. Come to my place.”
“Your place?” I repeated, not bothering to keep the surprise from my voice.
He’d never invited me over. It was one of those niggling things I thought he did on purpose on our first go-around as lovers. A passive-aggressive way to draw an invisible line and set boundaries. And recently…I supposed I didn’t think about it as much as I did back then. Our friendship was more important than sleepovers. The realization was an eye-opener. Yeah, I wanted the sex. It was mind-blowingly hot. But I felt protective of our friendship now too. I had a feeling it was something we both needed, which most likely was why he’d been holding back.
“Yes. Bring your books. We can order pizza, drink wine and…hang out, as you Americans say.”
“Okay. That sounds great. Um, just so you know…I think we can do this”—I gestured toward the desk and then between us—“and still be friends. It may take a little more communication, but I’m willing to try if you are.”
Finn’s expression was thoughtful and tinged with a trace of uncertainty. I felt like I was getting another glimpse at a piece of himself he was careful to hide from the world. “I am. But I—I’m not good at real relationships, Josh. I—”
“Hey, I’m not asking you to marry me or have my kids. We’re already friends and we’re good at the sex part too. We don’t have to put a label on us but it seems silly to deny one part to excel at the other.”
He smiled then. It was a slight upturn of one side of his mouth that blossomed into something beautiful. He traced my cheek with his thumb and held my chin in that familiar way before leaning in to kiss me. “You’re right. But you’ll have to be patient with me. It’s been a while.”
Of course I wanted info. Who? What? When? I assumed this was the Ireland chapter of his life that he didn’t discuss. Maybe it was the reason he’d moved to the States in the first place. Those questions could wait. The past didn’t matter when the future suddenly seemed so promising.
“I can do that.” I beamed then flung my arms around him impetuously before turning back to open the door. “See you tonight.”
Chapter 8
The manic sexual frenzy wasn’t new to us. We’d had a lot of practice a year ago when we’d debate art as a sort of foreplay before our marathon sex sessions. The difference now was the unexpected depth of our budding friendship. A typical night recently began with us in bed then ordering take-out and talking about…life. It could be anything from what we did that day to world politics. Sometimes we just watched television. It was actually kind of funny that we seemed to avoid the very topics we’d used as reasons to see each other in the first place. We rarely talked about my dad or Scarlet lately. We just…hung out. Mostly at Finn’s.
Finn’s “place” was a gorgeous three-story Victorian with wide bay windows across the street from a quaint park. He was within walking distance from the Castro, but the hills in this part of town might make the average guy think twice before setting off on even a short hike. The expansive city views were impressive, but the house itself was the real wow factor. The attention to detail, from the ornate plasterwork on the high ceilings to the intricate woodwork and stone fireplaces, was awe-inspiring. The seamless blend of nineteenth-century architecture with twenty-first-century technology wasn’t easily achieved without big bucks. I loved it, but honestly, it was a lot of house in a family neighborhood. I thought it was interesting that he didn’t choose something more bachelor-esque closer to his office or the water.
“I actually didn’t intend to live here. I was going to renovate it and sell. I figured I’d make a nice profit and then move on to a new project, but I like it. The market is hot in the city,” Finn nudged my knee with his bare foot, “but you’re in the real estate game now. You already knew that.”
I gave him a dirty look then adjusted the navy throw over my legs. We sat on his comfy charcoal striped sofa in the great room, sipping white wine in our underwear while Edith Piaf serenaded us about la vie en rose. Supposedly I was here to study, but we’d used that excuse every other night for the past few weeks since our “chat” in his office and so far, I wasn’t exactly excelling in my French class. It wasn’t Finn’s fault. Or maybe it was. Because the second he opened his door, we were all over each other. Clothes flew as we sought skin and friction as fast as possible.
“I don’t know shit about real estate, but I can tell you anything you want to know about inputting a contract. And if you’re still awake, I can give you tips on how to woo the baristas at your local Starbucks.”
Finn rolled his eyes and lifted my textbook meaningfully. “Which is why you’re studying for your French exam.”
“It’s a vocab test, Finn. Not an exam. Let’s not sugarcoat it and make this sound more exciting than it really is,” I huffed. “Are we still doing verbs?”
“Yeah…um, to allow,” he prompted, glancing down at the page.
“Permettre. Je permets you to suck my cock,” I said in a serious tone.
Finn chuckled. “Gladly. But not until you say one complete sentence in perfect French.”
“Anything?”
“You can’t ask my name, tell me yours, or give me the day of the week or the time. Otherwise, yeah, anything goes.”
“What about numbers? I can count pretty well. Un, deux, trois…”
“No numbers.”
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” I scooted closer to his side of the sofa and gave him a lascivious once-over.
Finn barked a quick laugh. “Oui. But quoting Lady Marmalade is cheating and—”
“No way. It counts,” I insisted, trailing my fingers along his upper thigh and under his cotton boxer briefs.
He slapped my hand and shook his head sternly. “Nice try. And as much as I want to go to bed with you…my dick is going to fall off if we do it again. Concentrate, Master Josh. You have a language to conquer.”
I flopped backward and sighed theatrically. “I can’t do it. I’ve lost interest or maybe I can’t focus. That must be your fault.”
Finn closed the book and tossed it onto the coffee table then shifted to face me.
“I’d take the blame but the truth is…I don’t think you’re interested.”
“You’re right. I love repetitive data entry. I may have found my calling at Kostas Realty after all.”
“So sarcastic,” he snarked, pulling me to his side. “What do you really want to do?”
I rested my head on his shoulder and sidled closer still. “I don’t know. I’ve changed my mind so often, I can’t remember what I really like doing anymore. I mean, other than things I won’t get paid for like playing video games or watching sports with my friends.”
“And art.”
“Yes. I want my old job back. My friend, Marley, just gave her notice. She got a new job at a gallery in Portland and while we didn’t exactly do the same thing, it’s close enough.”
“So, you want her job?” he asked, clearly confused.
“I don’t know…maybe. It’s my museum. I know everyone there and I know the space. She isn’t leaving until September, which is when Dante said that position is opening at his gallery. It’s a good idea to have another option in case he doesn’t offer me the job.”
“He will.”
“Oh? Do you know something I don’t?”
“I know he likes you and I know he invited you to an upcoming exhibit to give you a feel for the work. If you like what you see, I’m confident you’ll get hired,” he said nonchalantly.
“Why does it feel like my boyfriend is getting me a job?”
I immediately slapped my hand over my mouth and widened my eyes comically. Shit. I’d been so careful not to say the “B” word. At least not out loud.
Finn gave me a funny look then shrugged. “Dante will only offer you a position you
’re qualified to do. He’s not going to do anyone a favor if it affects his bottom line. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be having second thoughts. And even if you miraculously woke up speaking French, I get the feeling you don’t care about a fast track curator position either.”
I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed that he chose to ignore the “boyfriend” slip, but I took his lead and let it go.
“That’s not true. Actually…maybe it is true. I’ve got a history of hopping tracks when it comes to my career goals. I was going to be an engineer then an art historian. I worked in a few small galleries and then got an office job at the museum writing grants, which wasn’t the greatest but I got to be there. Just walking those floors was a rush. When I got promoted…that was exciting. But I didn’t read the fine print. I thought it would work out the way I wanted without putting in the extra effort. I’m not lazy, but I have to admit, I’m not motivated to be a curator and travel all over the world. I like it here and I like things the way they are. Or the way they were. But that’s obviously not realistic. Now I’m thirty-two and I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”
Finn stroked my hair and then kissed my forehead. “You wouldn’t be the first person ten years out of college to come to that realization. Some people don’t figure it out for years.”
“Hmm. What about you? When did you decide you wanted to own a techie sales thingie? Is that what you do? I honestly have no clue.”
“Techie sales thingie is close enough,” he said with an amused huff. “I never dreamed I’d own a company, but the journey always pointed in this direction.”
“What do you mean?”
“I went to trade school in Dublin with a mind to work in technology, but not because I wanted to be the next Bill Gates or Steve Jobs. I wasn’t fueled by the desire to do good for the common man. I had one goal in mind and no part of it was altruistic.”