Third Time Lucky

by Jayce Carter

  Jasmine gasped as her back hit Finn’s bed. The last time they’d done this had been in her motel room, but there was something undeniably intimate about being in the bed someone slept in every night.

  His blankets were thick and faded and comfortable. Finn’s weight came down on top of her, his body solid and safe in a way nothing else in her life had ever been.

  And that terrified her. It made her realize how much it would hurt to lose, and how frightening it was to let anyone have that sort of power over her. It forced her to directly confront that fear.

  She didn’t let that stop her, though. She grasped her top and yanked up, arching her back as she worked it off.

  Finn ran his large hands up her sides, then helped her to get the shirt off. The moment it cleared her head, he took her lips again, as if he couldn’t wait another second before kissing her.

  He was a drug she couldn’t get out of her system, and she was hopelessly addicted to it. No matter how often she’d told herself she didn’t need him, that she didn’t need this, she had to accept that she’d always be drawn back.

  Jasmine twisted her leg up and around his hip, trying to keep him close as she kissed him with abandon. She pulled at his shirt, and he moved away long enough to remove it. His bare skin was hot against her, and she moaned when he slid his strong hand between them to palm her breast through her bra.

  How had she ever walked away from this? His touch was lava against her, searing her each place he brushed. He plunged his tongue past her lips, devouring her, and still it wasn’t enough.

  Jasmine shoved at his shoulder, and Finn moved. That was the reality, though, wasn’t it? He wasn’t Trent, wasn’t Aaron, who would take advantage of her every chance they got. He wasn’t her stepdad, who’d taken everything and given nothing.

  Finn, even in the throes of passion, would stop if she showed any sign that she wanted him to.

  Only, she didn’t want him to stop, so when he moved, she followed, rolling him and taking her spot over him, her thighs spread around his hips. She leaned down for another kiss, even as she reached between them to work loose the button of his pants.

  There was a benefit of being with someone she knew so well. There weren’t any nerves, no ‘what if they don’t like me, what if I do something wrong’ worries.

  She knew Finn’s body with the same familiarity she knew her own, as if he were some extension of herself. She had learned about sex right along with him, with unsure touches in the dark when they’d been younger. The dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waist of his pants, the hard planes of his chest, that dimple in his cheek when he smiled and the way when he was really turned on, he groaned so deeply, it rumbled from his chest—they were all the little things she knew.

  Finn grasped her thighs before lifting his hips. It caused his hard cock to grind against her, and she couldn’t stop the shudder from how damn good it felt.

  She moved back, relinquishing his lips long enough to pull down his zipper, then scooted lower so she could yank at the jeans.

  Finn’s chuckle was soft, and he shifted to help. Jasmine took his boxers down with his jeans, because she needed him naked, and the faster that happened, the better.

  Once she’d tossed the clothing away, when she had him wonderfully bare for her, Jasmine slid her hands up the inside of his thighs, making him part them for her.

  She peppered kisses to his legs, up to his hips, avoiding his hard, thick cock even when he rocked his hips up as if to plead.

  Still, she toyed, only for a moment, before dragging her tongue up his length in one long stripe. It was strange that after so long, she hadn’t forgotten him at all, not a bit of him. He felt the same, tasted the same, sounded the same. Even the twitch of his cock when she kissed the tip was just as it had been so long before.

  “You are killing me, sunshine,” he rumbled out in a voice so deep, it was almost a growl.

  Jasmine gave in—to his wants or her own, she wasn’t sure—and tilted her head so she could take his thick shaft between her lips. She swirled her tongue around the head and grasped all that was left outside the warmth of her mouth with her hand.

  He let out a volley of curses as his hand flew to the back of her head. He didn’t shove her down farther, though. Instead, he tangled his fingers gently in her hair. The tiny lifts of his hips seemed unconscious, as though he didn’t have the ability to remain entirely still, and Jasmine timed the movement of her hand to them and lavished attention to the blunt, hot head.

  His groan was loud, and he tightened his hand a fraction. “That’s enough.” His voice sounded rough and broken, and he pulled softly on her hair.

  Jasmine lifted her head, releasing him with a noisy pop before meeting his gaze.

  His dark eyes were impossibly darker in the dim bedroom, looking entirely black. Even that couldn’t hide the intensity in them, the need. He moved his hand to her arm and pulled her as he rolled them again so he ended up on top.

  “I wasn’t done playing,” Jasmine complained, the taste of him still lingering on her tongue.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not as practiced as I used to be, or as young, and I wasn’t ready for the night to be over.”

  His answer pulled a laugh from her. How many men had she been with who would never admit they’d been close to coming? That she’d turned them on that much? Normally she dealt with macho bullshit that had them swearing up and down they lasted three hours and could go six times in a row.

  His humor and honesty were refreshing. It was part of what had always made him her safe place. He didn’t hide anything, and that made her able to be open.

  He paused for a moment, staring down at her, and beneath that lust she spotted the truth. He didn’t just want her body. Under that longing rested affection, adoration—things she’d craved her entire life and yet run from time and time again.

  He leaned down and offered a kiss, softer than their frantic passion would have suggested. Even still, he slipped a hand between the mattress and her back so he could unhook her bra. She arched up to help, but he managed the trick one-handed.

  “Not so out of practice,” he whispered against her lips, his own pulled into a smirk.

  When he moved down to grasp the waist of her pants, Jasmine removed her bra, tossing it to the floor afterward. She scooted on the bed when he tugged at her pants, reminded again that Finn was far stronger than most of the people she knew.

  It put a few thoughts into her mind, like how he could easily hold her against a wall and take her without breaking a sweat.

  It had her considering how to christen the office she’d taken to using at his shop.

  When Finn had gotten the rest of her clothes off, he took a moment to stare down at her.

  She fidgeted, unable to help the nerves from being studied so carefully.

  He shook his head and caught one leg by the back of her knee, spreading her thighs and bringing his fingers to his lips. He licked them slowly, sucking two into his mouth before reaching down between her legs. “You are stunning, sunshine, and don’t you ever think differently.”

  Even if she had thought about arguing, the moment those rough, wet fingers of his touched her swollen clit, she lost any fight she might have had.

  He traced around the sensitive nub, just barely caressing the edges in a teasing stroke. Even when Jasmine moved, when she rolled her hips to get more contact, he kept the coaxing pace the same.

  She closed her eyes, focusing on the touch, letting herself trust him.

  He ramped up her desire, made it grow hotter as the brush of his finger became firmer, more direct. It seemed to take forever, yet all that did was make her want it more. He drew it out until she was panting, until, when he finally pressed his callused thumb directly to the hardened bundle of nerves, sparks flew inside her chaotic body.

  Finn didn’t let up at all, though. He slid his other hand up her side until he cupped her breast, then circled that nipple with his thumb.

  It amazed her
that even after so long, he hadn’t forgotten exactly how to touch her. He didn’t pinch down on her nipples, didn’t go too rough, as if the things that pleased her were important enough to remember.

  Jasmine broke apart beneath his careful and unrelenting touch, the tension he’d created inside her pulling tight until it snapped free. She arched up, a cry on her lips, and Finn’s gentle coaxing was there through it all.

  He moved over her, his weight grounding against the almost floating sensation inside her. His chest rubbed against her still-hard nipples, and she gasped at the feeling.

  He kissed her lips, even when she didn’t return it, when she could only try to draw breath. “Do you want to keep going?” he asked without pressure, as if he’d be content to roll off her if that was what she wanted.

  She knew there was no chance of that, though. After everything, after Trent and Aaron and so many lost years, she needed all of him. She was done running.

  Instead of answering, Jasmine rolled to the side, forcing Finn to lift off her as she reached. She pulled open the side table drawer and, sure enough, found the condoms she knew would be kept there.

  Finn had never been the sort to sleep around much, but he’d also always kept his condoms in the same place.

  Jasmine pressed the foil into his palm.

  Finn nodded, rising enough to tear open the foil then roll the condom on. When he leaned back down, when he covered her with his body, she let her legs fall open.

  And when the blunt, thick head of his hot cock pressed against her cunt, Jasmine realized how foolish it had been to ever run. This was worth any risk.

  Jasmine’s pussy was impossibly snug when Finn sank into her, and her body felt like coming home.

  She clutched him tightly with her hands, her nails pressing into his sides as she urged him to give her more.

  And he’d do that, give her everything, because he had no idea how to resist.

  He gave up even trying. When had it ever worked?

  She’d asked him to love her for a night, and he could damn well do that.

  Her pussy squeezed down around him in waves. Her chest was flushed, that pale skin showing it so beautifully. Her rosy nipples scraped against his chest, and each time they did, she gasped again.

  Her entire body was so responsive to everything he did, as though she hadn’t had this sort of pleasure in far too long.

  Whether that was true or not, he didn’t much care. Clearly, she needed it, and he was only too happy to provide.

  Finn groaned low once he’d filled her entirely, once his dick was buried as deep as possible inside her.

  She shifted, impatient fidgeting that stroked her tight pussy walls against his cock.

  Finn pulled back then sank in again. He didn’t go hard or fast, instead trying to study her reactions. It had been a while, and he was no one’s charity case, so he paid attention to the hitch in her breath when he sank in deep, when he angled his hips just right to stroke the front of her cunt, when he brought a hand up to tease at the pointed tip of her nipple.

  She was a delight, so open for him, so desperate for whatever he could give her. It was one reason he’d loved having sex with her, because it seemed to be the only time those defenses of hers came crashing down. Even with his own orgasm roaring in his mind, with that denied pleasure rattling the cages of his control, he held off.

  He teased her with gentle kisses, repeated the thrusts that drove her wild. Her breathing became harder, quicker.

  She moaned, letting him take advantage of her open mouth to lick inside, then to take her full bottom lip between his teeth in a soft bite.

  “Harder,” she whispered.

  Finn smiled. Of course the difficult woman would want harder, and Finn wasn’t a man to ignore good advice.

  He grasped her leg behind the knee and pulled it higher, angling her and spreading her wide. He braced himself with his other elbow on the bed before giving up on the slow, leisurely pace and plunging into her hard.

  The whine that left her was a thing of beauty, the sort of sound that haunted him in his dreams. He repeated it, fucking her with strong, deep thrusts, taking her roughly.

  It was even better, that wild and passionate energy. Sweat beaded on his back, and he let himself look down at her. Her eyes were shut tight, her head thrown back and her neck exposed.

  Her breasts bounced each time he slammed in deep, the skin over her chest flushing red. Farther down he could just barely see where his cock disappeared into her, where they were joined.

  He buried his face against her neck, nipping at the soft skin there, breathing her into his lungs.

  Jasmine’s cunt squeezed down around him again, so tightly he had to stop moving. She dug her nails into him and twisted beneath him. It took only one long moment before she loosened just enough for him to move, and he couldn’t resist doing so.

  Even though each thrust made her gasp and seemed to set off another small aftershock, he gave in to the instinctual need to rut against her, to take her hard and quick, to get as deep into her as possible.

  Tightness in his lower back, in his thighs, in his balls all said he wouldn’t last longer, and this time he let himself fall over that edge. He shuddered when he came, his mind blissfully empty and the tightness of Jasmine’s body pulling the orgasm from him.

  He breathed hard, unwilling to move, too satiated to care about anything except gathering her in his arms and falling asleep.

  When she fidgeted, Finn begrudgingly reached between them and grasped the base of the condom when he pulled out, then disposed of it before crawling back into bed.

  He hesitated for a moment as he lay there, wondering if she’d pull away, if she’d retreat to her own room and leave him in the empty bed, alone.

  Before he had to decide how to proceed, Jasmine rolled toward him, curling into his chest as if she’d always been there.

  Finn pressed a kiss to her head and pulled the blanket over them.

  Perfect.

  * * * *

  Finn woke with an unusual soreness in his abs and lower back. He stretched slightly, the burn making him frown.

  He did enough work at the shop that, after especially tiring days, he would rise the next day with complaining muscles, but this felt different.

  He cracked his eyes open, peering at the clock as his mind tried to sift through the fog of waking. Just after nine in the morning, and no alarm, which pegged it as the weekend.

  The night before rushed over him a heartbeat later, the reason for the soreness. Jasmine.

  He threw his hand to the side, patting the bed, searching for her, a panic already growing inside him.

  Empty.

  He sat up, staring at the side of the bed she’d slept on, the pillow that still had an indent from her head, but no Jasmine. Her clothing wasn’t on the floor, as though she’d gathered up every bit of herself and taken off.

  Again.

  For the third time, she’d run off on him.

  Finn dragged his hands over his face, sitting on the bed for a moment longer, unable to find the energy to get up.

  He’d known better than to fall for her again, than to put himself on the line. She’d said for one night, but damn it, he’d thought maybe she’d changed.

  It seemed she hadn’t.

  And there Finn was, again, picking up the pieces when she wanted to flutter off to whatever new thing had caught her fancy.

  Did she expect him to stay there? Waiting to see if she ever came back?

  He’d done that too much already, even when he hadn’t realized he was doing it. He’d given up years, always hoping she’d show back up.

  The material of his jeans scraped against his skin, and the soreness from the night before felt like an ugly reminder.

  Was she even in town anymore? Hell, the last time they’d done this, she’d apparently run off and married someone else. Maybe she was off with Trent, trying to wipe away Finn’s filthy taste from her mouth.

  He stormed out of th
e bedroom, frustration eating at him, worse because he couldn’t do a damn thing. What was he supposed to do? Yell at her? For what?

  For his own stupid fantasies of her being someone other than who she was?

  The empty kitchen dug the knife in deeper.

  The loaner car was gone, but then again, he didn’t recall her driving her truck home the night before. He had no idea how she’d even gotten home.

  So, she’d run off and taken his vehicle. Why did that not surprise him? Of course, she took what was useful and bolted.

  He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, trying to wash away the night before, to swallow it down so he could just forget it.

  The door opened, and he turned his head, eyes narrowed, to find the very woman he’d been thinking about walking in.

  And yet, even with her back, he couldn’t shake the conclusion he’d come to.

  Jasmine held the two takeout cups of coffee, unable to help the smile when she found Finn shirtless in the kitchen.

  Would she always feel that flutter when she saw him? How could she know him so well yet still have that breathless ’oh my’ moment when she caught sight of him again?

  Except she lifted her gaze to his eyes and her smile fell away.

  Finn had never been good at hiding what he felt, and frustration was all over those features.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you ran off again.”

  Oh. Jasmine held up the drinks. “You were out of coffee. Neither of us got that much sleep last night, so I thought…” Her voice trailed off when his expression didn’t change at all. “I didn’t run off.”

  Finn set down his glass on the counter and dragged his fingers through his hair. “No, you didn’t, not this time.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’ve got a history of it, and…”

  Jasmine finished his statement when he didn’t. “And you think I will again.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  She came closer, walking slowly because he made her feel unsteady, uncertain. She’d grown so used to him being the stable one, the safe place, and yet she wasn’t sure where they stood suddenly. “I’m not going anywhere. I want this, Finn, I want to make things work.” She spoke softly, the words thick and unruly and things she’d never have normally said. She didn’t like to bare her wounds to people, but she let Finn see her vulnerability.