Текст книги "Finn Beckett"

Автор книги: M. J. Fields

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

She hands me back the bottle, and I take a long gulp.

It’s not like she can’t find out the answers if she wants to. With the way she seems to be around every turn, I highly doubt she will give up until she finds out.

“Like many musicians, music is an escape. It gives me a high. And as arrogant as it may sound, I’m damn good at what I do. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be doing it. Unlike most, I don’t do it for the crowd. I play for me.”

She takes the bottle from my hand, drinks, and then hands it back. “So your band mates play for the crowd?”

“They’re talented as hell. They love rock and roll. They catch a buzz when we are in woodshed mode, but they like the rush the crowd gives them.”

“So you’re saying you don’t like the spotlight, or the rush, as you call it?”

“I like that I can make a living doing what I thrive on.”

“What would you be doing for a living if you couldn’t make a living at it?”

“Probably be back in Canton, turning wrenches at my dad’s garage.” My hometown slips out, but oh well.

“For the money?” she asks.

“Because I enjoy that, and if I have to make a living any other way, that would be my second choice.”

“Are you close with your father?”

I shrug. “I suppose. Haven’t seen a lot of him lately, but yeah.” I take another drink, thinking for a second that I should make a trip home. “You?”

She shakes her head.

“Your mother?”

She laughs, taking the bottle from my hand, and drinks down the biggest chug I have seen her take so far.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Complicated relationships build walls. I know this firsthand.

She hands me the bottle. “How about your mother?”

“Junkie, and I don’t see her,” I say without thinking. “Please don’t put that shit in your report or whatever.”

“It’s a bio—your bio—Finn. If you don’t want it in there, it doesn’t happen.” She leans back in the chaise and takes a deep breath. “I’m working for your label. That means I am working for you. If you say not to put it in there, and I do, I’m pretty sure I’ll be unemployed.”

“True,” I say, leaning back.

I get lost in my head as I listen to the breeze and ocean sounds. The sky is clear, and despite the unsettled feeling inside of me, the storm is hidden by my buzz right now and a girl who seems far less a threat. It’s still there, though.

“Answer a few questions for me.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

“How did you get a job with Stevie, with Forever Four, if you aren’t educated?”

“You’re not educated,” she points out.

“No, but I have talent.”

“So do I,” she says, taking another drink.

“Right.” I can only imagine what that talent is. Right about now, I would like to find out, both sexually and to ease my foolish curiosity about what should be none of my business.

“I have a very big social media following.”

I take the bottle she hands me. “How?”

“How did I get a big following?”

“Yeah. If you aren’t musical or in entertainment, how the hell does that happen?”

“It’s a secret.” There is a playful tone in her voice, and I look over to see her smirk.

“I’ve told you mine. Now tell me yours.”

“I never liked that game,” she says, biting back a smile.

I turn to face her. “You play it a lot?”

“No,” she says quieter.

“I think the game you’re talking about is I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

She turns toward me. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

“No, Sonya, not even close.” I lean closer. Her scent mixed with the evening ocean air is alluring. Then she wets her lips, and smelling her isn’t the only thing on my mind. I wet mine then lean in as she closes her eyes.

As soon as my lips touch hers, another storm, one inside, consumes me. Her lips are warm and inviting, but her body stiffens. I run my hand up her arm then up her back. I then take the back of her neck and position her head so I can better explore the cause of my desire. Running my tongue over her lips, I part them and feel her shoulders slump, her muscles relax, and her mouth open. I taste Jack Daniels mixed with a clean, minty taste that makes me immediately hard.

I stroke her tongue with mine, slowly testing the dangerous waters I know damn well I have no business testing. I can’t stop, though. The noises she makes deep in her throat are full of pleasure, but she isn’t giving me back what I want so fucking badly right now.

I pull back and hold her face in my hands. “I don’t know what the fuck it is about you. I do need an answer. You wanna fu—”

“I’m a very complicated person, Finn. I’m not looking for a good time or to be a notch on—”

“God help me, I’m not asking that from you. I want to know what the fuck it is about you that has me so messed up. Who the hell are you?”

“I should go.”

“No, dammit. You should tell me, just fucking tell me, why you look at me the way you do. Why you—”

“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.” She starts to get up, but I pull her closer.

“You want me. I know damn well you do. Make no mistake about it, you’ll have me. You’ll have me so fucking deep inside of you I will be fucking you from the inside out, just like you are me right now.”

She trembles, shaking under my hands.

“Are you afraid of me?”

She shakes her head.

“You understand, when this happens, you won’t be a notch? I’m about the music, not everything else this business fucking brings.”

“Why?” she gasps. “Why me?”

“I have no fucking clue, but I can assure you that you started this, and I’m not gonna let it end until I can figure it out.” I let go of her and stand up. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Don’t go.”

I look down at her. “Tell me why I should stay.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know, either, Finn. I want to hate you—”

“Why?” I’m asking her to answer a question I can’t even answer. I feel the same damn way, but desire for her is masking the hate.

She looks down as she fists her hair. “Everything you stand for. Your life. You sleep with—”

“I fucked Stevie when I was seventeen and she was twenty. Kellie, she was there, and I knew she just wanted a—”

“What about everyone else?!” she yells, causing me to take a step back.

“What does it matter?” I yell back.

“It’s reckless. It’s irrespon—”

“Be that way with me.” I feel like I’m begging for a piece of ass, and I’m not. I don’t beg for ass. I grab it when I want it, when it’s uncomplicated, and I go. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I’m pissed at her. So pissed, and I don’t know why.

She stands up. “I work for your—”

“I don’t give a damn.” I stare at her.

“If this ends badly—”

“It already has. We both know it seems like a bad idea, but neither of us is walking,” I interrupt. “Throw every excuse you can at me, and I’ll shoot them all down.”

“I can’t. I just … can’t.”

“But you want to. I know damn well—”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Finn. I’m drunk, and I haven’t been with a man in years, so of course I want—”

“Why?” I question her two-fold excuse.

“Because I don’t like being used, taken advantage of—”

“Then use me.”

She doesn’t say anything to that.

“You make me feel, and you make me want to hide. I want you under me.” I need her.

“Because I scare you?”

“I scare you, too. Admit it. I scare you. And you know what takes that fear away? Facing it head on.”

She swallows hard. “I wasn’t supposed to want you.”

“No girl should want a rock star,” I tell her, stepping forward and taking her hand. “But I told you that lifestyle doesn’t interest me. I have you under me; no one else holds that position.”

She nods, fucking agreeing with me. It’s about fucking time.

“No one can know. It would put my job in jeopardy.”

“Agreed. What else?” I yank her closer.

“When it ends—”

“Hasn’t even begun.” I take the bottom of her chin and lift it. “That’s about to change.” Wrapping my arm around her back, I lift her so we are eye-to-eye, and her breath hitches. “You kiss me now dammit.”

She leans in, and our lips collide recklessly, fiercely, and savagely. All the emotions I have felt since seeing her running after Tales, since I met her angry eyes, explode in a kiss, a kiss that will lead to one of two things: fucking or hating.

I suck her tongue and her lips as I breathe her in. My hands leave her hair to run down her back, resting on her tight, little, apple of an ass. I lift her up, and her legs wrap around mine.

Not close enough.

I pull her skirt up as she claws at my shirt. Lifting it, I pull back as it comes over my head.

“Jesus, Sonya,” I say as I hold her ass up with one hand and pull my arm out of one sleeve then the next.

I carry her toward the house as I knead her ass in my hand while sucking on her neck, scraping it with my teeth and trying my best not to hurt her. But I need more. More of her, more of this feeling that the storm is a lie, that my feelings were confused, that this—this right here—is what it was about from the minute I saw her.

Lust.

I use one hand to open the door then kick it shut behind me.

“River,” she moans, pulling away.

“He’s passed out.” I squeeze her ass when I say it. “Never say another man’s name while I have my hands on you. All I want to hear is Finn or God, understand?”

“Yes,” she pants before kissing me hard.

I push her against the wall of the hallway next to the door to my room as I reach over to open it.

Once inside, I kick the door shut and rush to the bed. I set her on it, not wanting to take my hands off her, afraid, so fucking afraid, she will change her mind. When her hands rush to my jeans and start fumbling to unbutton me, I know that fear is unfounded.

I pull her shirt up, and through the moonlight steaming from my windows, I see red, though I’m unsure if it’s her bra’s true color or the filter in my mind, my eyes, from my anger. I quickly lean in and kiss her neck. Then I grab the strap with my teeth and pull it down her arm as I feel the first button of my jeans open.

“Don’t you stop, Sonya,” I demand. “If you stop, if you hesitate, this is done before it even starts. If you want me, you take me.”

My head is in a fog of desire and need. A need I know is driven by the fear of a lie that I can’t have more, one that needs to be abolished so I don’t slip any further away than I already know I am capable of.

I unsnap her bra with one hand as I kiss and tug the other strap down. I pull her arm free, and then her hand urgently returns to unbuttoning my button-fly jeans.

She pushes down my jeans, and my heavy, hard, and needy cock hits her face.

“Fuck,” I hiss as I look down, pulling her hair away so I can watch her look at me. “You like what you see?” I groan, pivoting my hips so it touches her face again.

She swallows hard, licks her lips, and peers up at me through her dark lashes, her eyes liquid amber. “Yes.”

Taking her trembling hand and wrapping it around me, I guide her strokes up then down as I groan. I squeeze, tightening the grip, then use my other hand to take the back of her neck and pull her closer.

When I let go, she doesn’t move back, so I know what she wants.

I trace her lips with my finger then push it slowly inside her mouth. Her tongue caresses my finger, and then I push another finger inside.

I watch as her mouth gives my fingers what I know it wants to give my dick. I try to be patient—it’s normally not an issue, but with her, I need to know. Need, desire, both, and more—that’s what I feel. Fuck, that’s what it was from day one.

I hook my fingers in her mouth and pull her forward, using my other hand, the one guiding her strokes, to rub my cock across her lips.

“Suck my cock, Sonya,” I groan as I pull my fingers out of her mouth and replace them with the tip of my dick that is already beading with pre-come.

Her tongue flicks across, licking it clean, and I can’t help thrusting forward.

“No restraint,” I hiss as I pivot my hips and push farther into her hot, little mouth. “None.”

I lead her back, cock in mouth, so she is lying across the bed. Then I step one foot onto the platform bed’s mattress while the other stays grounded on the floor, knee bent so I’m standing over her, my cock still in her mouth.

Her tongue strokes me harder as her grip tightens around it. I reach back, eyes still glued on the way her lips look wrapped around me. I rub my hand over her silk panties that are wet with desire, and all of a sudden, I am the thirstiest man alive.

I slip my finger under them through the side and groan when I feel how swollen and hot she is. “Your pussy wants me so bad.”

I’m not asking her.

I’m telling her.

I know.

My head is spinning with too much to drink and lust. I can’t deny it, and I didn’t expect to feel it for him.

I am throbbing. Between my legs is a pulse that is on fire. I am full as his rock hard dick thrusts in and out of my mouth. I am hungry. I have never wanted a sexual experience like this. I thought it degrading, but it wasn’t for him. It was for me.

I am drenched. My own desire is evident and excruciating as he rubs his finger between my drenched lips, his cock between the lips of my mouth. I wouldn’t stop if I could.

I can’t stop the desires, the fire; a choir of lust, greed, and need consumes me. His finger pushes between my slick folds, and my hips rock forward, forcing them farther, closer to the burn, nearer to the point of reckless abandon.

He shoves inside as he thrusts his massive erection farther into my mouth, and a quiver ripples below as I choke on his size.

“Fuck,” he growls.

As my eyes meet his, I see the muck is clear. No filter, no mask, he is open to me, and I am opening further to him. My legs spread wider, and another finger pushes inside me. I clench around him as the burn of an orgasm spreads like wildfire in the pit of my stomach.

I cry out as my pussy contracts and convulses, my cry muffled by his cock. He pulls out swiftly as his finger curls, causing me to cry out again.

He watches me intently, intensely as I feel him try to add another finger. I cringe from anticipation. I know how long, how thick his fingers are, and I am afraid, so afraid he will tear me apart on the outside like he already, unknowingly, has on the inside.

“Too fucking tight,” he growls as he rubs his dick across my nipples. “And I’m too damn hungry.”

He stands up, swiftly and effortlessly flipping me to my stomach, and his hands grip my knees as he positions me face down with my butt in the air. I ready myself for his entry, scared, unashamed, and yearning for what is to come.

Beckett grips my ass cheeks, spreading them wide. “So sexy. So fucking tight and sexy. I’m gonna tear you apart,” he promises, yet it is as if he is apologizing.

I bury my face in his sheets. The smell of bleach is evident, and I am thankful that they are clean. God, I hope they are clean.

I feel his breath immediately before his tongue savagely attacks my still quivering sex. Then he yanks me against his face as he growls, nips, sucks, and licks at me from behind. Raw, carnal sounds escape as he devours me, my own need and pleasure mimicking his sound.

I come. I come harder than I ever have, my hips thrusting and rocking against his face.

“That’s it, sexy little thing. Fuck my face while I fuck your tight, sweet, little pussy with my tongue,” he demands.

Lost in desire, I obey.

He pulls away when I am panting and exhausted, then flips me slowly to my back and straddles me. He reaches behind himself and rubs me back and forth, petting me, caressing me, bringing me nearly there again before he pulls his hand away and rubs it between my breasts then up and down his length. He then pushes my breasts together and pinches my agonizingly hard nipples as he thrusts himself forward between them.

My eyes are glued to his. His are glued to our connection.

“Fuuuucccckkkk,” he growls as he pumps faster, harder. He holds them together with one hand while bringing his other hand to my mouth.

“Spit,” he orders.

“What?” I am shocked.

“You do or I will.” His jaw twitches.

Confused, I look at him.

He spits in his own hand then runs his saliva up and down himself before pushing between my breasts again.

“Mouth or tits?” he grunts.

“What do you mean?”

“Swallow or—”

“Oh, oh.”

I am embarrassed, and he is unashamed.

“Tits it is,” he grunts out as he releases his tight grip on my breasts. “Beautiful fucking tits.” He leans down and sucks my nipple in his mouth as he strokes himself back and forth until he groans my name. Then he leans back, his hot come streaming across my chest before he bends down and kisses me hard and possessively.

When he pulls back and rolls to his side, I look down to see come still on my chest.

“Um, I think I need …” I start to get up, but he stops me.

“Stay. I’ve got it.”

While I lie completely still, my head spins. My body aches. I am breathless. I close my eyes, not wanting to see the evidence of a mistake I know I cannot take back. I’m not even sure I would if I could.

The bed dips, and I open my eyes. In his hands, the strong and very able hands of a man who has touched, licked, and tasted every intimate part of my body, is a towel.

I hold my hand up to take it, but he shakes his head, and I look up to watch him as he slowly cleans his come off my body. Each swipe of the steaming hot, wet towel entices and incites desire.

He folds the hand towel twice and then wraps his hand around my leg and pulls it open, spreading me farther. I start to bring my other leg up, closing them.

“No,” he says as he rubs between my legs, cleaning me, soothing me, exciting me. “You’re gonna be sore tomorrow.”

He stands up and walks to the bathroom again. When he returns, he stands naked beside me, his manhood hanging proudly between his strong, thick, muscular thighs.

“You sleep here. I’ll take Memphis’s room.” He bends down and pushes my hair away from my face then kisses the top of my head. Then he looks lower. “You’re a brunette, Sonya. I think I’d like you even more if you didn’t hide your natural color.”

He starts to reach between my legs, and I allow them to fall open, unable to deny myself whatever he is about to give me. He tugs at the small patch of hair and groans. “If I don’t walk away now, I’ll abuse your body.”

“Don’t walk.” The words drop from my mouth, and I am immediately regretful.

He stops and looks up at me, shaking his head. “You’ve been alone for a while. You told me that. You’re drunk. I know that. I am a patient man, Sonya.” He pushes my legs together. “But my patience is being tried right now, and I’m fucked up, too. I need to walk out this door alone. If I come back in, you better make damn sure to tell me to leave.” He covers my naked body. “And you better hope that will stop me.”

Then, like a storm, he is gone.

I roll to my side, bring my knees to my chest, and cry. I cry in shame, in guilt. I cry because I let myself down. And I cry because I am weak.

***

I wake to light peeking through the window, feeling sick to my stomach. My head is pounding, and I am still completely naked.

I sit up and look beside me. On the nightstand, there is a bottle of water and two Motrin.

I sit up, holding the blanket close to my body; unscrew the cap of the water; and take the pills. Then I stand, grabbing my clothes that are scattered around the room and dress quickly.

I look for my coat, my phone, my …

“Shit,” I say when I remember my coat is gone with the phone in its pocket.

I try to figure out the best escape. I don’t want to be seen. Not by the band and certainly not by the man who caused this confusion.

I look at the French doors and decide they’re the best escape. I open them quietly, then jump when I see Finn lying asleep in the chaise he had dragged down to the beach last night.

A blanket covers his lower half, his bare feet peeking out from under it. His torso and tattoos are exposed, and he is just as beautiful sober as drunk. His hair is stuck up in every direction possible, his neatly trimmed beard seems thicker, and his arm is covering his eyes.

I quietly turn, shut the door behind me, and ready myself to tiptoe away unnoticed. Then he groans and runs a hand down his chest under the blanket to adjust himself. I lick my lips, immediately thinking about what the blanket is covering, and then curse myself for being so damn stupid.

He lets out a deep breath and rolls to his side, facing away from me.

On the deck next to the chaise is a pack of Camel lights, a Zippo, an ashtray, and his phone.

How could I be so stupid? I yell at myself again.

I need a phone to call a cab, so I slowly reach down and grab his phone, then start to walk away quietly.

“You need something?”

I turn quickly back and watch him lazily sit up, the muscles in his abs flexing. The morning light is adorning him, loving him, shining on him like a spotlight.

“Just borrowing your …”

He stands, takes two steps, snatches the phone away, hits a few apps, takes my hand, and places my finger on the home button. Once, twice, three times, and then four.

“What are you doing?”

“Passwords are a bitch to remember. Fingerprints don’t change.” Then he hands it to me. He runs his fingers through his hair, licks his lips, and looks me up and down slowly. “You need something?”

My words rush out in a jumbled mess. “A cab, my phone … Why are you sleeping out here? It’s cold.”

He shakes his head. “I like to sleep outside.”

I gasp. “It must have gotten down to sixty degrees last night.”

His lips curl up on the side. “Camping weather.”

I shake my head and can’t help returning his grin. “You’re crazy.”

He nods once. “You need a ride?”

“I can call a cab.” I hold up his phone. Then it hits me. “You know it’s not smart to give out your password.”

“My mouth was on your pussy, my tongue in every nook and cranny of your body. I’m good with a password, Sonya.”

I am shocked, embarrassed, possibly turned on, but I remind myself who he is.

“You give all your conquests your phone and—”

He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing. “You too fucked up to remember what was said last night?”

“No, but—”

“Let me remind you.” He reaches out and lifts my chin with his finger. “I have you under me; no one else holds that position.”

“This is a bad idea.”

He shakes his head. “Come on; I’ll give you a ride.”

“No,” I say quickly as I type in a search for a cab.

“No?” He looks shocked, possibly hurt. I thought I would like him being hurt, but I don’t when it’s because of me, because I let things get so out of control.

“It’s best this way.”

“All right then.” He grabs his shirt. “See you around.”

And just like that, he’s gone.