His lashes lower in a sweep, and then he’s staring at me as if I’m Christmas. He draws his hips back, the round tip of his dick nudging my opening. And…
“Oh, fuck,” I moan. I feel that body move and all those muscles clenching as he pushes in, making room for himself inside me. So thick. So perfect. My insides grasp that hardness, holding onto the pleasure.
A helpless whimper breaks the silence. It is Finn.
Pausing halfway in, Finn braces himself on his elbows, his breath harsh. “Okay?”
Okay? I lift my hips, spreading my thighs wider. “More.”
“Oh, fuck yes,” he groans. One firm push and he’s balls deep, so big it hurts.
I want the pain. “More. More.”
Filthy words tumble from his mouth as he starts to move, giving me what I want. But it isn’t fast. It’s slow and savoring. Finn works me as if he’s memorizing every damn second of it. And I love it.
“Talk to me,” he pleads, moving in a slow steady fuck.
I can barely think, my world is a heavy glide of muscles and cock. “Talk?”
“Your voice,” he says. “Pure fucking sex. Love it.”
What this man does to me. I cup the sides of his damp neck, kiss my way along his jaw. “I love your cock.”
He trembles. “Yeah?”
“The first time I saw it, I imagined…”
Finn stills, pulsing inside me. “What? Tell me.”
“Sucking it.”
He groans deep, rocks against me. Sweat trickles down his temple, his breath is heat on at my ear. “Fuck. More, tell me more. How would you suck it, Chess?”
Slow shivers dance over my skin. “I’d put it in my mouth when it’s still soft. Feel it grow hard as I sucked it.”
“Oh, fuck.” He pounds into me—three hard thrusts that hit so deep I grunt each time—before he slows, deliberately dragging that thick, glorious cock of his in and out in that same evilly steady rhythm. His cheek nudges mine. “Then what?”
It’s almost too much, imagining Finn that way, while he’s actively thrusting into me.
“I’d want you writhing while I sucked you off. You’d lie there and take it, clutching the sheets, almost whimpering as I’d pull on your dick with my mouth.” God, I want that.
“Jesus.” He shivers, dips his head lower. Soft lips brush my shoulder. His voice is a deep rumble. “You gonna tie me up?”
In and out goes his cock, invading retreating. I swallow hard, try to concentrate on the words. “No,” I whisper. “You’d have to hold still on your own. Your willpower against my tongue. That’s part of the fun.”
He moans low and pained.
I run a hand down his back and cup his ass, push him into me. The muscles flex under my palm. “I’d milk you dry like that, Finn. Your thighs parted, your body strung tight.”
He grunts this time, his thrust a little less controlled, a little more greedy.
“After you come, I’ll keep you in my mouth until you got soft,” I whisper against his cheek. “Then nurse that dick hard again.”
“Oh, fuck.” Finn loses control with a groan, and trashes against me. “Oh, fuck.”
He pumps without finesse, without thought, hard and fast. The tight coil of pleasure within me grows almost unbearable. I arch against him, keening as I come. And he’s right there with me, his mouth open and wet on my neck, his pants buffeting my skin.
He stays with me until the trembles die down and our breath cools. And then, with a please sort of grunt, he rolls us to the side, his dick still deep in me. We lie wrapped up in each other, limbs twining, my head on his chest.
For a long time, neither of us says a word. I draw circles through the smattering of hair on his hard chest, and Finn runs his fingertip up and down my arm.
“We should have been doing that since the beginning.”
I smile against his chest. “The beginning, huh?”
“Yeah. I should have set aside my towel. And you should have put down your camera. And we’d fuck under those hot lights until we forgot the world around us.”
I huff out a laugh. “Aren’t we supposed to do it until we forget our names? Isn’t that how it goes?”
“Nope.” He kisses the crown of my head. “I want you to know exactly who’s fucking you. And I sure as hell am never forgetting that it’s you I’m with.”
Gently, he cups my cheek and tilts my head back so his gaze meets mine. “I’m with you, Chess. You know that, right?”
He looks different now, as if the intimacy of sex has exposed a new layer of him. Or maybe it’s simply freed a part of him he’s kept hidden. This Finn looks at me as if I’m his, as if he’s mine. This Finn is irresistible, because I can touch him however I want, whenever I want. So I do.
I kiss his lips, the crest of his cheek, the stubborn edge of his chin. “I’m with you, Finn. All the way.”
Chapter Fifteen
Finn
* * *
I take Chess to a restaurant by the water. We sit on a huge terrace strung with lights, our table right beside the glass railing, and watch the sun set over the sea as Chess drinks a fruity cocktail and I nurse a beer.
“What’s good here?” she asks me.
For a moment, I can only stare. Her skin glows with a light tan that makes her green eyes brighter. The ocean breeze kicks up the silky strands of her dark hair, making them dance around her slim shoulders. She looks happy, relaxed, and well satisfied.
I did that. I gave her that soft, content look. I gave her those kiss-swollen lips.
And because I now can, because she’s right here, I lean in and kiss her again. A gentle, lazy exploration of her mouth with mine. She tastes of tequila and passion fruit. And I could gladly kiss her all night. I pull back just far enough to see her smile, those green eyes light with happiness, and I smile too.
I want to tell her things. Important, emotional things that I’ve never said to anyone else. But this shift between us is too new and the place too public. Besides, she wants to order food.
“Get the lobster tacos,” I tell her with another soft kiss.
She hums against my mouth and, when I sit back, gives me an assessing look. “Why do I suspect that you come home for tacos almost as much as you do to see your parents?”
I laugh. “Because I do. They’re the best in SoCal.”
“Pretty sure there are taco lovers who would defend their own hometowns.”
“They can try.” I wink. Looking her over, a swelling sense of rightness fills me. I’ve had moments I thought were perfect. They were preludes to this. To truly being with Chess.
“This should have been our first date,” I tell her.
Chess quirks a brow, but she’s still smiling. “I thought it was.”
“Our first date was eating fried fish and talking about bad sex. We just didn’t realize it yet.”
“We didn’t?”
“Nope.” Slowly I shake my head. “But the execution was all wrong. I shouldn’t have made it a friend thing. I should have gone up to you and said, ‘I like you at lot, Chester Copper. Will you go out with me for, like, real?’”
She snickers, but it sounds suspiciously like a happy giggle. “How do you know it would have worked?”
God, I love her smile. I want to keep teasing her just to see it bloom again and again. “It would have worked. I would have kissed you the way I’d wanted to since we met, and you would have been mine.”
“Oh really,” she deadpans, but I see the knowledge in her eyes.
“Really. I was made to kiss you, Chess.”
She goes soft at that, giving me those bedroom eyes. And her voice grows husky, making me hard and tight with anticipation. “Maybe I was the one made to kiss you, Finn.”
Emotion rushes through my chest, taking my air, and I have to breath deep. “You were.”
The waitress arrives to take our order.
When she’s gone, Chess looks out over the water, giving me her profile. She’s flustered, her finger
s tapping the glass in her hand. Neither of us have been in a relationship, me because I didn’t want to, Chess because she never found anyone she wanted. In a way, I’m glad that we’re both new to this. We can be each other’s only. But part of me wishes we both knew more, or at least one of us had some knowledge of how to play this.
But it is what it is, and I’m content to drink my beer, watch the sunlight dance in my girl’s hair. Our food arrives and we eat with gusto, talking about nothing in particular. The sun sinks behind the horizon, and the string-lights twinkle overhead.
A dance floor is set up on one corner of the patio. Mostly older patrons are slow dancing to a Sinatra song. Chess watches them, the corners of her lips tilted up. “I wish I brought my camera. That couple there…”
I glance back and see a man and woman who must be in their eighties. He’s dressed in a three-piece light gray suit, an honest to god red carnation tucked into his lapel. The woman’s dress looks like something out of the 40s. They move together in perfect harmony, his hand in hers as they smile at each other.
Chess glances at me but then her gaze goes back to the couple. “What must that be like? To spend an entire lifetime with someone, and the threads of who you are have become so interwoven, you can’t part without unraveling.”
I don’t know. But I want to find out.
The song ends and another begins. It’s slow, the woman’s voice filled with tender love and bittersweet nostalgia as she sings along to the piano. I listen to the lyrics and start to smile. “This song was playing when I walked you home that first night.”
Chess’s brows draw together. “It was?”
“Elvis was singing it then.”
Her expression clears as she listens. “‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’ I remember.”
I put my napkin down on the table and stand. “Dance with me.”
Chess blanches. “What here?”
“That’s the idea, yeah.”
She hedges, her gaze darting from the dance floor to me.
I’m patient. But I’m not letting this go. Not when it’s this song, in this moment. “Some things you don’t take a picture of, Chess. You live them.” I reach out to her. “Take my hand.”
For a second, she just stares at me as if she’s never seen me before. I don’t move, don’t look away. Chess licks her lips and slowly she puts her hand in mine.
The world shifts then and there, and it’s as though I’m drawing my first breath. I hold her hand and lead her to the dance floor. She moves into my embrace, and then there is nothing else. Just Chess. The scent of sea and sun in her hair, the smooth satin of her skin. I am a fucking goner. A man capable of cheesy poetry and big gestures.
I don’t even care. Bring it. I want it all.
We flow together, barely dancing, just swaying and listening to the music. Her cheek rests against my chest, her arms wrapped around my waist as if she doesn’t want to let go. I hold her closer, smoothing my hands up her arm, down the narrow slope of her back.
Part of me wants to get to my knees before her. I press my cheek to the crown of her head and breath in, let myself fall. A white light flashes, and for a second, it doesn’t register.
There is another. I turn my head, and spot the guy holding up a camera phone aimed at me. Rage punches into my gut, so hard I make a sound. Chess stops, moving back a step, her gaze zeroing in on the guy too. Her body stiffens, and it kills me.
I’m used to getting my picture taken without my permission. But that fucker didn’t just violate my privacy, he violated Chess’s.
I take a step, and her hand presses against the small of my back. “Don’t,” she says in a low voice. I peer down at her. She looks at me with pleading eyes. “It’s not worth trouble.”
My thumb strokes her chin. “He does not get that piece of us.”
Another flash, and now my eye is twitching. No fucking way.
“Trust me, it will be all right.” Giving Chess a tight smile, I take her hand and head toward the asshole snapping pictures of us.
Dude stiffens as soon as he realizes I’m actually coming for him. I almost feel guilty about the way his gaze darts around and his mouth trembles, as if he can’t decide to smile or bolt. Physically intimidating guys weaker than me is not my style. I make it easy for him.
“Hey, man.” I hold out my hand. “Finn Mannus.”
He glances at my hand for a second, as if trying to decide whether I’m going to rip his off. But then he relents and gives me a weak, quick shake. “Hey.”
When I don’t do anything aggressive, his grip gets a little stronger. “Manny, I knew it was you. I fucking love you, man.”
Yeah, no shit. I nod, giving him an easy smile, as Chess hovers at my side, gripping the back of my shirt. I drop dude’s sweaty hand, but my smile remains. “Saw you taking pictures of me and my girl.”
Just like that, dude gets all stiff again, thrusting up his chin. “You’re in public.”
And you’re kind of a dick.
“Sure. I was wondering if I could get a copy.” I nod toward Chess, as I wrap my arm around her. “It’s our first date. Be nice to have a memento of it.”
I can feel Chess’s stare. She’s wondering what the hell I’m doing. It makes my smile a little more genuine, because I love the sound of her chiding voice in my head.
Dude’s date, who hasn’t said a word until now, perks up. “Oh, that’s so sweet. Dougie, isn’t that sweet?”
He gives his girl an annoyed look, as if to say he’s in charge, but then puffs up his chest a bit. “Yeah, sure, Manny.”
“Cool. Can we have a look?” Another fake smile. “My girl really wants to see them.”
Dougie is not entirely stupid and hesitates.
I hold out my hand and stare him down, but keep my pleasant expression. If he says no now, he comes off as a complete dick in front of his girl and his supposed idol.
Finally, he hands over his phone. Jesus, he took a lot. My anger rises. At my side, Chess’s fingers dig into my arm. But she doesn’t let her emotions show. “Your eyes are closed in that one,” she points out lightly.
“I like slow dancing with my eyes closed,” I tell her with the same levity, as I highlight the photo and a half a dozen more. They’re grainy or overdeveloped with the flash, but every image shows what I’m feeling for Chess with perfect clarity. And while I’m not the least bit ashamed of that, the idea of it being all over the internet—and I have no fucking doubt that’s where these are headed—makes me want to crush the phone in my hand.
A sense of violation coats my insides like hot tar.
Dougie, the little fucker, also recorded the last bit. I don’t play it because I’m not sure I can keep my temper if I do. I send the entire lot to an email address set up for Charlie to check, with the code I use to let Charlie know it’s from me as the subject line. He’ll keep them safe for me and then block Dougie’s email address later.
Dougie sees that I’ve sent the pictures on, and starts to fidget in his seat. Because I’m still holding his phone. It’s clear that he’s worried I’m going to delete them.
Chess tenses, obviously thinking the same. I could do it. Easily. It would take a tap of a button and there is no way Dougie could stop me. I have at least seven inches and about thirty pounds of muscle on him. But I’ve played the game long enough how that would go down.
I give him a thoughtful look. “Would you like a selfie with me?”
He brightens, letting out a breath. “That would be awesome.”
My cheeks fucking hurt with all this fake ass grinning. “I see you’re wearing my team cap. Could sign that for you too.”
Dougie loves that. “Shit, yeah.”
“Cool.” I straighten to my full height. “All I ask in return is that you delete these.”
His happy face falls.
I nod toward Chess. “See, this is our first date. I’d like my girl to keep her privacy.”
He swallows hard. “I wasn’t going to share them.”<
br />
Sure you weren’t.
“Still,” I say. “It’s hard to impress a girl when she’s worried about photos.”
Again, I hold his gaze. Come on Dougie, don’t make me toss this phone into the Pacific. I know one thing: I’ll try the nice route, but he isn’t getting this piece of Chess and me.
Dougie rubs his chin like cock of the walk. I lean in a bit, noting how he stiffens. “Besides,” I say in a low, confiding voice that’s just between him and me. “I’m pretty sure the guys would appreciate that selfie more than me dancing with a girl.”
That does it. Weakly he nods. He still wants his pics, that’s obvious. But he won’t push it. I delete them, relief rushing through me like air, then pose with Dougie for pics. My scrawl on his cap is quick and messy.
“Well, then,” I say, trying not to toss his hat back in his face. Be nice. Be nice. “Have a nice night, guys. Dinner’s on me.”
His girlfriend beams. “You really are so sweet. We love you, Manny.”
I wink at her. And then I’m grabbing Chess’s hand and taking us away from the couple as fast as I can. Heading toward the hostess stand, I explain that I’m leaving and give her enough money to cover our bill and Dougie’s.
The whole time, Chess stays silent, her hand in mine. She doesn’t say a word as I take her down to the beach, my stride brisk, my heart still pounding with unleashed rage and regret. Stopping only to take our shoes off, we walk away from the lights of the restaurant, the sound of laughter and music slowly giving way to the crashing of surf.
The moon hangs overhead, bright enough to illuminate the beach and shimmer off the ocean. I slow to a stop. Moonlight gleams white on the inky strands of Chess’s hair.
Her eyes are big and worried as she stares up at me. “You didn’t have to pay for that rat’s dinner.”
“He didn’t have to give me those pictures. But he did.”
“He was a creep to take them.” She scowls at the ocean. “I wouldn’t have done that to someone.”
I sigh, letting the anger leach out of me. “He’s a fan. It’s what a lot of them do.”
Her gaze returns to me, and a small smile curves her lips. “You handled it well. I would have just smashed his phone and told him off.”
The Hot Shot Page 21
