Текст книги "Finn Beckett"

Автор книги: M. J. Fields

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I can feel the buzz wearing off too damn soon. I wish I could sleep like she does. I wish I could forget the taste of her, but I can’t.

Destruction is a bitch. I could never outrun her. She follows me, swallows me whole. Avoidance is a gift, one I cherish while creating. Right now, that gift is hiding in the shadows of destruction, avoiding the madness inside her path.

I’m on her path, regardless.

I lean over and River nods.

“What’s up?”

“I need to sleep,” I say, knowing damn well it’s a bad fucking idea, but no fucks are given.

River reaches in his backpack and pulls out a bottle. “This will help.” He opens it, taps a pill out, and hands it to me. I pop it in my mouth. “You’ll get four hours.” He pops one in his own mouth and winks. “Sleep well.”

I recline my seat and take in several deep breaths, smelling her, trying to find something good to focus on that will help me relax my mind: my childhood, my first love, my dog, my friends … None of my memories are calming.

After waiting twenty minutes, my body is totally relaxed, but my mind still remains far from it. I want to shut it off.

“I need another,” I tell River.

“Dude, I don’t think—”

“I. Need. Another.” I glare at him.

After he shakes his head, pulls the bottle out, opens it, and hands me another, I swallow it down.

My head feels like a balloon floating on a string attached to my body. It’s light, but this is no true escape. I am surrounded by madness and destruction, each exit blocked by my past.

I look at my watch. It’s ten minutes later—still awake.

Fuck!

***

“Finn,” I hear River, then feel him tap me.

My eyes are too fucking heavy. My head is a brick and not a balloon.

“I found don’t give a fuck,” I hear myself mumble.

“What is wrong with him?” I hear Sonya whisper.

“River?” It’s Memphis. He’s pissed. “Da fuck did you give him?”

“He wanted something to help him sleep,” River whispers.

“Isn’t that what was behind the fucking clam bake in the car?” Memphis snaps.

“Wasn’t enough,” I say, fighting to open my eyes.

“I asked you what the fuck you gave him,” Memphis snaps again.

“Memphis, don’t. Too many people around with phones and recording devices.” It’s Sonya. “Let’s just get him up and out of here.”

I know it’s her hand that wraps around my elbow. I know it’s her.

“Don’t touch me.”

Her hand immediately releases my arm, and I immediately wish I hadn’t said shit.

I open my eyes and force my hand to grip the back of the seat in front of me. Pulling myself up, I feel a hand on my back, pushing me.

“Deal with it. This is my job,” she growls at me.

“Don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.” I don’t have it in me to fight her.

“Great. River stay in front; Billy hang back,” she gives out instructions like a fucking drill sergeant. “You got this?” she asks, looking up at me.

“No.” I throw my arm around her shoulder. “That’s better.”

Her eyes shoot daggers, but her body seems to conform. “You owe me.”

“Anytime,” I say and keep looking down as she wraps her arm around my waist and walks me off the plane and into the terminal.

When she starts to let go, I pull her in more tightly. I look down to see her nipples are pebbled, rock hard, and my mouth immediately goes dry.

She looks up, and I see her face is flaming red.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? You can’t force attraction when it doesn’t exist, Sonya. Why the hell try? It’s obvious you get all hot and bothered when we’re close. I can make you—”

“Finn, this isn’t the time or the place,” she grunts, pushing me up straighter and walking faster.

“When is?”

“How about staying sober for ten minutes and trying to find out if your dick gets hard, then see if your attraction still exists?”

“You aren’t fucked up, and your nipples are so hard they’re practically ripping through your shirt.”

“Time and place,” she says with a strain in her voice as we exit security.

“Can you get his bags and mine?” she asks River.

“I have no idea what yours are,” he says.

“Two large, hot pink hard shells. You can’t miss them,” she says as she keeps the momentum up.

Once outside, she walks us to the curb, shoves two fingers in her mouth, whistles and waves with her hand that’s not wrapped around my waist. The heat hits me hard, and I feel a hell of a lot less strength than I did inside.

She looks back over her shoulder at someone. “You have the info to the hotel, right?”

“Of course. You sure you can handle him?” I hear Tales from behind.

“She can handle me,” I respond as a cab pulls up.

“Get in,” she says as she opens the door, and once I slide in, she slides in beside me.

“Woodlands Waterway Marriot,” she tells the cab driver.

I rest my head against the window, trying to find a cold connection. I feel perspiration beading on my head, my upper lip, and my stomach cramps.

“Hey, you.” Her voice is much less harsh.

“Hmm?” is all I can muster, afraid if I speak, I will throw up.

“Look at me,” she says in an even softer tone.

I force myself to sit up and turn my head toward her.

“You kind of look like hell.”

I nod once, and that movement makes me woozy.

“Dizzy?”

I swallow down the phlegm in my throat. “And hot.”

She leans forward and taps on the glass. “Can you turn up the AC please?” Then she reaches in her purse and pulls out a bottle of water.

I close my eyes. “You’re an angel.”

“You think this is for you?” she asks.

“I fucking hope so,” I admit.

“Well, then let’s you and I make a deal.”

I force my head toward her again.

“No more drugs, Finn. No more—”

“Pills.” I give one nod.

“I’m serious. You are gonna make my job so hard.” She hands me the open bottle.

“Like you aren’t doing the same.” I take a drink and hold it in my mouth, worried it may come up.

“Swallow,” she says.

I do with a smile.

“You’re such an ass.”

“At least I do what I’m told.” I lean my head back, slightly amused with myself.

“Good. How about you keep that attitude up? No drugs, no drinking, no smoking—”

“You’re pushing.”

“It’s my—”

“How about you take it to River?”

She doesn’t say anything more, and I’m good with that.

“We’re here,” she says a while later, rubbing my shoulder.

I don’t move, so she rubs it again. I force my hand up and hold her hand against me so she can’t rub me again.

“Am I bugging you?” she asks. “Are you awake?”

“You’re making me har—”

Her hand flies over my mouth, stopping me.

“Let’s go.” She gets out and holds the door open. “Can you manage?”

“Sonya, I can do anything I put my mind to,” I grumble.

“Good. Then put your mind into walking in here and looking a little less like a damn rock star who parties from sun up to sun down.”

I step out and hold the door as she walks away, and she stops and looks back.

“Go. I’ll get there,” I assure her.

I stop at the door and pat my pockets. I grab the Camel Lights from the inside jacket I must have shoved them in. Then I remember the Zippo is in my carry-on, and I hope to hell one of the guys grabbed it.

I see a hot, leggy brunette looking at me as she takes a drag off her cigarette.

“You got a light?”

She blushes and nods, then hands me her lit cigarette. I light off of it and hand it back as I inhale.

She cocks her head to the side. “Are you an actor?”

“Sometimes, we all are.” I shrug.

She laughs. “No, you seem familiar.”

“Never been here before.”

“Well, welcome to the great state of Texas. I’m Ryana.” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a card. “I’m here for a while, staying in this hotel for a few days, hopefully more. If you get bored or want someone to explore with, let me—”

She stops talking, and I follow her eyes to see Sonya turning around and walking toward the entry.

“She your girl?” Ryana asks.

“No.”

“She looks a little upset.”

“She looks that way a lot,” I say, snuffing out my smoke. I shove the card in my pocket. “Might see you around,” I say, but I think, Hopefully not.

“I certainly hope so.”

Buzzed from the quick smoke and woozy from the pills, I make my way inside as fast as I can, which isn’t fast at all.

Sonya is standing at the elevator. When I get to it, the door opens and she steps inside. I follow.

“All of the rooms aren’t ready. One is.”

“Okay,” I say, relishing in the fact that I know damn well she is annoyed with me.

“So …?” She throws her hands in the air when the door finally closes.

“So what?” I ask as nausea hits again when the elevator moves.

Before she can answer, my phone rings with a call from Memphis.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“You good now, River?” he asks in a pissy, yet joking manner.

“Wrong name, asshole.”

“Same path, though.”

His response pisses me off, so I hang up.

Her phone rings immediately.

“This is Sonya,” she answers like whoever’s ringing her doesn’t know who they called.

“Yes, he’s still”—she pauses and looks at me, then turns to face the wall—“fucked up.”

I know immediately it’s Memphis.

“Well, I was supposed to be there and—” She pauses, and I strain my ears to listen. “I understand. No, it’s fine. I’ll email Tally the updates on the performers. I worked on some more numbers during the flight.” She stops again. “See you then.”

She hangs up, and her head hangs low. Then she takes in a deep breath and turns to me. “They are heading straight to the radio station to meet with the DJ who went over the audition tapes. They prefer you stay here.”

“I prefer that, too.”

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “You do know that most of these local acts have followings.”

I nod. “That’s great.”

The elevator door opens, and I push myself off the wall and motion for her to go ahead of me. “Ladies first.”

She gives me a frustrated glance and storms out.

At a door, she slides the key through the slot and opens it, and I follow her in.

“Wow,” she whispers and looks back at me. “Do you always travel like this?”

I look around the suite. There are cream-colored walls and a dark, hardwood floor. Straight ahead is a dining room table, the wood matching the floor, and the chairs are upholstered cream with the same dark wood trim. To the left is a sitting area. Past it are double doors opening to a king-sized bedroom. To the right of the dining room is a small kitchenette, a bathroom, and another set of double doors leading to another bedroom. Straight ahead is a wall of windows leading out to a large patio overlooking the river.

“No,” I answer. “It’s a little much.”

“Nice, though.” She walks to the kitchenette where she grabs two glasses and fills them with water from the sink. She turns and walks toward me. “You hungry?”

I take the glass of water she offers before asking, “You bipolar?”

“You’re kidding me? I am being nice.” She starts to walk away, and I grab her elbow.

“Thank you for the drink, Sonya.”

She turns to look back at me.

“But in the elevator, you were pissed. Outside, you were borderline rude—”

“I didn’t—”

“In the cab, you were nice. The plane … Well, one minute bitch, the next hot and bothered—”

“You have some nerve, Finn Be—”

“Then you were pretty fucking cool getting me out of there. Stand there and get pissed all you want, but it’s a legitimate fucking question. Do you have a mental health issue that would better explain the epic fucking mood swings?”

“I don’t have a mental health issue! You, however, have an innate ability to make me crazy! You got on the plane high, all but undressed me with your eyes, stole my sucker right out of my mouth, took pills, and couldn’t even walk, so I had to help you. In the cab, I was nice; you’re right. Then we get here, and you all but fall out of the damn thing. And I have to check us in because you’re all messed up.” Her hands flail in the air. “Then I can’t find you, and I worry that you’re out there, either lying on the damn cement or wandered off somewhere like a child.” She stops and looks at me like I am going to fight back.

Instead, I say nothing. I want her to keep going.

“Nothing? You have nothing to say?” Her hands slam down on her hips.

“I have a lot I could say, Sonya, but why bother? I’m tired. There are a couple beds in here. I’m gonna pick one, climb in it, and you’re going to do some self-reflection and get over this little foot stomping tantrum and come at me like an adult with some fucking truth or leave me the hell alone. You are pushing the wrong fucking man,” I say as I walk toward the bedroom on the left.

“Is that a threat?” she asks.

I keep walking. “No. Not a fucking threat. Figure out the reason your panties are damp every time you’re around me. Probably when you’re not and just thinking about me and what I do to you physically and emotionally. Then one of two things needs to happen.” I stop and turn around, and I swear she’s so angry she’s almost purple.

I pull off my shirt, kick off my shoes, drop my jeans, kick them off, turn, and climb in bed. “You either step up or step off.”

“You’re an ass!” I can’t help screaming as Finn climbs in bed completely nude and unashamed. Not that he has any reason to be ashamed, but well … “And a-a—”

He sits up and the blanket drops, exposing his very, very nice chest as he fluffs his pillow before looking at me, “Asleep in five unless you have other plans.”

“Like smothering you with a pillow?”

His eyebrow arches. “Told ya.”

“Told me what?” I literally stomp and then am mocked and rewarded with that damn grin.

“You’re either gonna fuck me or kill me.” He lies back and throws his hand over his face. “When you and your … other personalities figure it out, let me know, would ya? This shit is getting old, and I have other options.”

“Other options?” I clench my fists, hoping my nails pushing into my skin will make me less explosive.

“Yeah. Told you I wanted to fuck you.” He yawns, which further irritates me. “Told you I’d only fuck you, and you lost your mind. Find it and climb in, or shut it down, Sonya. I need some sleep.”

“So you’re telling me, if I don’t fuck you, you’d just take—” I stop immediately when he springs up out of bed and starts storming at me.

I can’t move as he swoops me up, too shocked to fight. He marches into the bedroom and drops me on the bed. As he leans over me, the intensity in his eyes scares me and warms me at the same time. The closer he comes, the more I retreat until I am lying on the bed.

He sighs, closing his eyes. His head dips and his forehead touches mine, his hair falling in my face.

“I’m in a bad place right now, but there is no fucking reason for you to look at me like I’m terrifying you.”

“But you are,” I whisper.

He groans, pushes himself up, and rolls to his side. “I need sleep, Sonya. I need sleep and peace. Give me at least one of those things, and I won’t ask for anything else.”

My heart is beating against my chest. I’m sure it’s going to tear through it. I hold my hand over it, making sure it doesn’t happen.

He rolls over so he can get under the covers, and I look over once he’s settled to see he is looking at me as if waiting for an answer.

When I can’t give him one, he lies back.

“I’m sorry I stole your sucker.”

I shake my head. “Sleep, Finn.”

He yawns again. “Will I wake up to another battle?”

“No,” I answer.

“Thank you.”

After a few silent moments, I dare to look over. His face rests peacefully against the stark white pillowcase; his long, thick, jet-black lashes fan under his eyes exquisitely; and his hair is in his eyes.

My finger aches to push it away; my lips beg to kiss the tightly trimmed beard covering his cheek. My heart hurts because I want so badly to hold him against my chest and apologize while soothing my need to hold something close and tight like I used to with Noah.

I know better than to act, though. I know better than to allow myself to feel drawn to him. It can only end badly, but I can’t stop. It won’t go away. He won’t let it.

I was so stupid for coming here, so stupid for agreeing to this, wanting this.

I know enough through the journal to know he is like two different men. Her dark and her light. As confusing as her ramblings were, I could now understand better.

I give in to temptation and push the hair off his face, and he lets out a deep breath then takes in a slow one. I kiss my finger and toy with the idea of touching it to his plump pink lips, like I did to Noah before I fell asleep each night while he lay sleeping peacefully asleep.

I slowly reach forward and test the waters. I place my finger lightly against his lower lip, and he sighs, his breath warming my skin. I wait to see if I went too far, if he wakes. When he doesn’t, I rub across it lightly.

Paying no attention to anything but his eyes, my finger, and his lip, I don’t notice the hand that now is holding mine until it’s too late to pull it away. Then he rolls to his back, still holding my hand.

I follow the motion to avoid waking him, and he places it against his heart, which beats slowly against my hand. With the steady rhythm, with the knowledge that, if I pull away, there is a chance I will wake him, I make the decision to stay still and wait him out until he moves again, regardless of how much time it takes.

I wake to something rubbing my back and the scent that is Finn. My head rests on his chest, his heart beating much too fast for me to think he is asleep. My leg is wrapped around him, and something hard is pressing against it.

Dear God, what have I done? I think to myself as he lets out a deep breath.

“You’re tensing up on me. You must finally be awake.”

I open my eyes, knowing I can’t hide it any longer.

“Can you fall back asleep and pretend this didn’t happen?” I try to move, but he holds me more tightly.

“Even when we sleep, there is something magnetic between us. I propose we talk about this like adults.”

“Are you still sorry about stealing my sucker?” I ask.

He chuckles. “No.”

I drag my leg off him, and he groans when it rubs against his erection. When I sit up and look at him, his eyes are closed and his jaw muscles tight.

“Do you still think I’m mentally ill?”

He shrugs. “You clearly have some issues, but don’t we all?”

The whisper-soft, gravely way he says it is not meant to antagonize me. His eyes open, clear of muck and redness.

I nod.

“I’m sober right now, Sonya. I won’t hate you regardless of the answer you give, but we do this or we don’t.”

I shrug.

“I should also point out that I am sober and my dick is not only hard but aching, too.”

I laugh, and he smiles.

“You said on two occasions to tell you when I’m sober and—”

“I know I did.” I nod, then shake my head.

“Stop overthinking this and—”

“There are some things you should know,” I start.

“The past?”

I nod, confirming, as tears build in my throat.

“Look.” He sits up and takes my hands. I know he’s trying not to grip too hard, trying not to scare me. Guilt rushes over me and spills out one tear at a time.

He lets go of my hand and brushes his calloused thumb across my cheek. “The first time I saw you, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fuck you or …” He pauses. “Well, you know the rest. It was like my past and future collided and there could be nothing in between. I don’t want that.

“I’m sure you’ve done your research. I’m sure my past scares the hell out of you, but what I can tell you—and it’s your choice to believe me or not—but I am not who I was. I am not who I have been. If I tell you I want you, I sure as fuck do. I’m not trying to get you in my bed by saying it, and I don’t want to get so caught up in trying not to feel that I stop completely.

“Look at me, Sonya.” I do as he asks. “My past is my past. My future is unknown. But right here, right now, I can tell you again, if you’re under me, no one else is.”

“But my past—”

“Don’t give a damn,” he says, wiping away more tears. “You tasted too fucking good the other night, and I’ve been trying to escape it since. Waking up with you right now felt good. It’s the only peace I’ve felt in a long time. You have me tied up, twisted, and running for the fucking hills, babe, and I need to be present. I’ve worked too hard to stand where I am today and feel like I’m just going to fuck it up. Past be dammed, I made it. Me fighting you, trying to get you to do the same, isn’t doing me or you a bit of good.” He lifts my chin, then bows his head and closes his eyes as if saying a prayer. “Which will it be?”

“I don’t want to kill you,” I whisper as his lips inch closer to mine. “I don’t want the past to ruin the here and now, either, but—”

“Fucking perfect,” he says, right before his lips press against mine.

I press my lips to his harder.

Past be damned, future be damned. I want Finn Beckett in a way I have for four years, and right now, in the here and now, I can have him.

His tongue caresses mine as his hands take my face, one on each side of my head. He angles it so I am leaning back, opening wider for him. His tongue rushes up my tongue then slowly down, and he groans, pulling away.

I open my eyes and they meet his. Nothing is hidden by muck or a mask; all I see is desire in layers of want.

“That fucking taste,” he growls as he moves my head again and goes for my neck. “Here, too. Fuck.” He flips me on my back effortlessly and holds himself above me, looking at me, searching for something. “Everywhere.”

His eyes grow hungrier as he uses one hand to push my long-sleeved T-shirt up as he kisses his way to my bra. Then he pulls the cup down, and my nipples ache even worse when the breeze from the ceiling fan hits them.

“Ahh,” I cry out.

“I’ve got you.”

His mouth wraps around my nipple as he cups and squeezes my breast in his hand. Then I feel his tongue caressing slowly back and forth and around it. He sucks gently then harder and harder until I fist his silky black hair in my hands. The intensity of the pleasure takes me away until I cry out his name.

His knee falls between my legs and the other beside my hip as he continues sucking slowly, gently while I try to regain my breath.

His hand works the front clasp of my bra and it opens, releasing me. When he takes his mouth from my breast, I groan in protest, and his eyes narrow as he looks at my chest while moving so he is kneeling, taking me in appreciatively.

I have never loved my naked body, but the way he looks at me gives me a sense of comfort and security I have never felt before.

I reach up, wanting to touch him, to show him appreciation. However, he captures my hands and lifts them up, his eyes glued to me, mine to his.

He lifts my shirt and tosses it aside, my bra next. Then his long, strong arm wraps around my back, and he pulls me toward him. One hand on my breast, eyes still intensely staring into mine, his other hand now kneads my ass and pulls me against him.

My body sizzles against his; the heat, the electricity is a connection I don’t understand, but I want to so badly. I wrap my arms around him and allow my hands to fall slowly from his shoulders down his muscular biceps and wrap around his waist, holding on tightly as his mouth begins another assault on my breasts.

I wrap my legs around him, seeking friction, wanting it, needing it.

“Tell me you want me,” he growls as he licks at my rock hard nipples, one then the other.

“I want you,” I pant as I arch my back, pushing myself against his mouth with urgency.

“Good damn thing, because there is no way I can be stopped.”

He leans forward, pushing me toward the mattress, one hand supporting my back, the other clasping my ankles together, keeping my legs wrapped around him, and pressing his erection firmly against what I can only imagine to be soaked panties.

His lips are against mine, his tongue tasting me and hand gripping my breast while the other is still cupping my ass, holding it firmly against his hard length as his hips grind against me. The pulse, the pull, the burn is building, and I am so close.

I whimper as he kisses up my jaw.

“Let go, Sonya. Come for me.”

“Together,” I cry out.

“I’ll get mine. We’ll do it together, but this one is you, all you. You and I sober and still unable to deny”—he thrusts hard against me, and I can’t deny a damn thing, not even if I wanted to—“us.”

I come apart.

He pulls his face away from mine, and I grip his bare, beautiful ass as I cry out his name.

When the electrical currents running through me slow down to a perfectly sweet pulsing, I open my eyes to see him watching me.

He shakes his head slowly. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His thumb rubs across my lower lip, and I open my mouth to give it a slow taste.

“Fuck,” he says, his eyes rolling slightly.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

He pulls away, grumbling as he does. “Don’t you even think about moving,” he says as he grabs his jeans, reaches in the pocket, and mumbles under his breath. Then reaches in the other side.

I pull the blanket up, and his head whips up to look at me, shaking.

“Drop it.”

I feel my eyes widen and start to do as he asks.

He starts shaking his jeans upside down like a crazed man.

“Our bags out there?” He points to the door.

“No, the band was—”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he groans, tossing his jeans before running one hand through his hair. He grips his erection hard and strokes up and down his length once.

“You okay?” I wonder aloud.

He lets out a frustrated groan. “No condom.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I can’t help giggling. “A band that totes around a literal condom cannon—”

“No, no kidding.” He lets out a deep and not entirely pleased kind of laugh. He walks over and opens the drawer to the nightstand.

“Last I stayed in a hotel, they didn’t have rubbers in drawers; they had Bibles.”

“Maybe they should rethink that.” He shuts the drawer.

“They have a little store—” I begin.

“Room service, hospitality, someone around here has got to have condoms. I mean, it’s a fucking hotel.” He sits on the end of the bed and grabs the phone.

“Finn, please don’t call and ask for condoms. What if they—”

“Fine.” He hangs up the phone and gets up, walks over, grabs his jeans again, and starts to pull them on. He looks up at me as he tucks his big, beautiful cock inside his jeans. “You’ll make it bleed,” he says, walking toward me. I look at him like he’s crazy. “The lip, Sonya. Save it for me to chew on.”

He leans down, grabs the blanket, and throws it off. Then he grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed. I plant my feet, worried he may pull me too far.

He leans over my knees then kisses me swiftly on the lips as he grips my knees and pulls them apart. He then kisses my hips before, without warning, he licks me roughly between my legs and stands.

“I need to fuck that tight, little snatch.”

“Should that offend me?” I ask because I’m not sure. Maybe it already has.

“Do you find my tongue offensive?” He winks. “The answer is no, Sonya. I will make damn sure your little snatch is well-prepared and ready before any offending happens.” He reaches down and rubs his finger up and down my slit, and I close my eyes.

“Go. Before I change my mind,” I whimper.

“None of that, understand me?”

I open my eyes and smile. “Hurry up. Understand me?”

“Absolutely.” He walks out, and I lie back, smiling.

Finn Beckett wants me, and he wants me when he’s sober. I force myself to stay, although it was much easier when he was here. I need to stop this, but I can’t. I’m stuck between a rock and Finn Beckett.

Finn Beckett, the man I thought I would become stronger when I faced him. If I could look at the man who made me believe something that wasn’t true, I would be a stronger woman and maybe be able to breathe again.

I sit up and hug my knees. I need to think, but when his scent is still lingering in the air, when I can still feel his hands on me, when I am basking in post-orgasmic bliss, I can’t.

The door opens, and I hear him walk in quickly.

He smiles and sighs when he sees me. “You didn’t move.”

I look down. “No.”

“But …?” he asks as he unbuttons quickly and pulls his shirt off then tosses it. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking at me. “We still good?”

“I think I should tell you—”

“Only thing you need to tell me is ‘wrap it, Beckett, and get in here. I want you.’ ”

I smile and nod once.

“I like it. A nod with conviction.” He tears open the condom, stands, pushes his jeans down, and then caps the head.

I watch intently, never having seen it done before in person. It’s fascinating.

His hand stops, and I look up to see he’s watching me.

“You like to watch?”

“It’s interesting,” I answer honestly when his lip curls up. “Oh, I see, you’re mocking me.”

He takes my hand, brings it to his mouth, and licks from the tip of my finger to the palm of my hand. Immediately, that heat is growing deep inside me again. Then he wraps it around his hard length and strokes up and down.

“Now you put it on me.” He lies back and puts his hands behind his head. He’s being serious.

“Oh, okay.” I try to put it on by the ring and it slips.

First, there is a snap sound like a rubber band hitting, well … Then, “Easy,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I am so sorry,” I say when I realize what I have done, and then I can’t help laughing.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

I cover my face and shake my head.

“A lesser man would be so fucking offended right now.” He sits up and grabs me, pushing me on the bed and pinning my hands above my head as he wraps himself with the other.

“You certainly are not a lesser man, Finn.” I giggle until I feel him rub his head against me. “Oh,” I whisper as I allow the sensations to come over me.

“No, Sonya, I’m not.”

The confidence he carries in his music was so incredible sexy it brought about an unbelievable need, desire, and want to be closer to him. His confidence now in a bedroom, naked, with his very, very impressive length rubbing between my legs is even more than I can explain.

“I’m gonna make you feel so damn good you won’t ever regret not killing me,” comes out in a very sincere and sexy rumble as he pushes inside of me slowly. “You feel the burn, Sonya? I see it in your amber eyes. So reflective of the heat inside of you,” he groans as he pushes in farther. “So hot inside, so fucking hot, wet, and ready for my cock. You have been for days now.” He pushes in even farther, and I clench around him.

When he starts to watch my eyes intensely, I close them. He bends down and kisses below my ear over and over again. The sweetness in that kiss makes me melt as he pushes in more.

“You feel so damn good, Sonya. So good.” He stills and pulls back a little.

“Don’t,” I plea as I wrap my legs around his back, digging my heels into his ass. “Please don’t stop.”