The Hot Shot(54)

His smile is lazy, as he looks me over. "You do. Spread your legs for me, Chess."

Hands on my knees, I do as he asks. A guttural sound rumbles in his  throat, and his gaze settles on where I'm swollen and wet. "Good girl."

It should piss me off, what he says, and the way he says it, as if I am  in fact his good little girl. But I picture myself as I am, stretched  out on his bed, my thighs spread wide, pink knee-highs on, and it feels  illicit, so hot that I tremble, lift my tits a little higher in the air.

"So pretty," he murmurs, then settles himself between my legs. He sets  his big hand low on my belly, holding me still, his thumb touching my  clit. It distracts me, and when he kisses my sex like a man starved, I  yelp, my body twitching.

But he doesn't let me get away. His hand keeps me in place as he goes at  me. And I pant, going both cold and hot. He licks my sex as if it's  warm candy.

"Finn … " I can't take it. I throb.

Over the length of my body, his eyes meet mine. "Pinch those tight, little nipples," he orders between kisses.

My breath grows short, as I lift my hands to my breasts. The first pinch on the aching tips has me moaning.

He grunts in approval. "Give them a tug. Nice and slow."

I do and my back leaves the mattress as I gasp.

"Good," he says, his thumb toying with my clit. "Good girl."

It shouldn't get me so hot, but it does. My lids flutter, my thighs fall  further open even as I writhe. And his gaze slides from mine to focus  between my legs. That he's staring there makes everything more  sensitive. I revel in the exposure.

His finger comes up to trace the lips of my sex. He finds my opening and  toys with it, dipping in just enough that I feel it but not enough to  satisfy. I whimper and his gaze flicks to mine before sliding back down.  That thick finger sinks in. In and out. Just the tip. Not enough.

"Finn … "

I'm panting harder, my thighs trembling.

He plunges in deeper then pulls back out, and his finger travels  downward. He touches the entrance to my ass and a strangled sound leaves  my lips. But he doesn't move away. He strokes me with the slightest of  movements.                       
       
           


///
       

When he talks, his voice is rough, but his tone is almost conversational. "You ever taken it in here?"

"No," I whisper, watching him.

That finger, slick with my desire, pushes just a little. And I nearly  choke. It's so sensitive there, my entire body seizes. He notices and  hums low in his throat. He plays with my ass, making me whimper.

"Would you let me take you here one day, Chess?"

It feels so good, wrong, dirty, intense. "Yes," I say on a garbled  breath as sweat breaks out over my skin. Without thought, I push back at  his touch, and his finger slips inside me.

I cry out, my hips bucking, and he sinks further. Finn makes a noise in  his throat, and his mouth latches onto my clit. His finger pushes deep,  pumping a little.

It undoes me. I'm coming, pinching my nipples so hard they hurt. It's  not enough. I fuck myself on his finger as he sucks me. And the orgasms  breaks so hard and fast, I collapse, boneless and breathless onto the  bed. He lets it ride with soft playful pecks of his lips until my  breathing evens.

Slowly he withdraws his finger and gives me one last kiss before rising up.

"I'm dead," I moan, shivering lightly.

"You're still breathing." Finn's gaze is fierce and hot as he slides down his pants. His cock is angry and dark.

I shiver again, a pulse of want going through me. "Barely."

He gets on the bead and leans against the headboard, his knee brushing  my shoulder. "Get up here and sit on my cock. This won't take long."

He is evil. Evil. And I love it.

Holding his gaze, I roll over and get on my hands and knees. Avidly, he  watches me crawl his way. My breasts sway with the movement, and he runs  a hand over his swollen dick. His pecks twitch, his nipples tight  beads. I lean in and lick one as I straddle is hips.

We both groan as I sink onto him. I'm so slicked up, so well attended  that he slips right in. Still I feel it. I feel it at the back of my  throat and along the soles of my feet. I feel it in the cool heat that  races over my skin.

His hands grip my hips, tilting me forward. I catch myself by gripping  his big shoulders, and he takes the opportunity to swoop in and draw my  nipple into his mouth to suck it hard and greedy.

As if by mutual consent we start fucking, him thrusting up into me, me  pushing down to get him in deep. It is frantic and fast. His fingers  sink into the soft flesh of my ass, pulling at it, moving it. He's so  strong, I'm bouncing on his hips, our flesh meeting with loud slaps.

"Fuck, Chess," he pants. "I can't. I can't … " He breaks off with a helpless sound and tries to kiss me.

But our movements are so violent and uncoordinated that our mouths  barely meet. I wrap my arms around his neck. The walls of my sex clamp  down on his dick, and he makes a strangled sound, his body jerking.

"Get there," he pleads, thrusting harder.

But I'm too weak to do anything more than hang on. His hand slides down.  No, he can't. He can't. I won't survive. But he does it. He pushes his  finger in deep and rough. And I come again on a wail.

He comes with me this time, making sounds that are almost pained.

We crash in a heap, me slumped on his chest, Finn's head lolling against  the headboard. His arm bands around me, and he cups the back of my  sweaty necks as we lie there and regain our breath. His heart is a fast  beat in my ear. Too late I remember his injuries.

"Let me get off you," I say, trying to move.

His grip tightens. "No."

Not wanting to struggle, I let him hold me, and he relaxes. He turns his  head and rests his lips against my temple. "Do you have any idea how  much I need you? You make everything better."

Emotion clogs my throat. I blink rapidly, my cheek pressed to the wall  of his chest. My arms wrap around his shoulders. I want to pull him into  me, protect him from the world. "I thought … " I clear my throat. "I  thought I might have messed things up."

Finn stills, and then slowly smooths his hand over the back of my head. "You didn't. It's good to talk."

I nod, but don't say a word.

His touch is lazy, fingers carding through my hair. "My whole life, I've  lived with my eye on the future. Every day, working for it. Worrying  about it." His hand comes to rest on my nape. "I'm tired, Chess. With  you, I can rest."

The beat of his heart is fast and strong against my cheek. Warm fingers  tighten on my neck in entreat. "Can we rest for a while? Just be?"

There is true yearning in his voice, and that plea goes straight to my  heart. From the beginning, Finn had been clear about what drew him to  me; I turned off all the white noise in his head. It had been  flattering, seductive to be his sole focus. It still is.                       
       
           


///
       

And it isn't one sided. I did not know what true joy was until Finn.  Every emotion I'm capable of having amps up with him. I feel. I live. I  breathe. The world is more real when he is there.

He wants to just be. Not think. I don't know if I can. But, for Finn, I'll try.

With a smile that feels too weak, I place a kiss on the center of his chest. "Yes," I say against his skin. "Let's just be."





Chapter Twenty





Chess



* * *



"So, how are you getting along?" I ask James on the phone. I know Jamie  is a programmer and has a tiny efficiency walk-up on the Lower East  Side, but Manhattan is ridiculously expensive. James will have to get a  job quickly.

"I'm waiting tables at this cute osteria in SoHo."

I'm not surprised; James waited tables through college, and the money will probably be more than he earned with me.

He gives me the name of one of New York's biggest chef's Italian  restaurants, and I bite back a smile. Leave it to James to understate.

"We're so eating there whenever I visit," I tell him, rubbing some  coconut oil onto my damp heel. Swathed in a towel, I've taken over the  bathroom, refusing to let Finn enter while I get ready for tonight. He'd  pretended to pout about it for a few minutes, but soon gave up and  walked away with a fairly satisfied expression. Not that I blame him;  I'd satisfied him very well all morning long.

"You got a deal," James says. "How about you? Things picking up?"

Sitting on the big ottoman in the center of Finn's massive closet, I  rest my chin on my knee and study my toes, now painted scarlet red. "I  need to find a studio."

Finn's condo has three bedrooms, and he'd suggested I use one. But the  room isn't big enough and the light is all wrong. Never mind the fact  that I cannot violate his privacy by bringing clients in here. This  space is his sanctuary, and though his willingness to offer it to me  speaks volumes about his trust, I won't let him make that sacrifice. I  need a separate work space that I can comfortably bring people to.