The Hot Shot

by Kristen Callihan

  His expression turns tender. “I fucking adore you.”

  God, my heart. I can’t take it. I trace the curve of his eyebrow. “You’ve grown on me too, Mannus.”

  “I’m like fungus that way,” he agrees happily.

  Leaning in, I kiss his forehead. He tries to catch my mouth, but misses and gets my chin.

  “Okay, big boy,” I say, rising to my knees. “Let’s get you undressed.”

  “For sex?” He blinks up at me with hopeful eyes.

  “For bed.”

  “Have you always been this mean?” he pouts, kicking off his shoes. One hits the bathroom door with a thud. Which is impressive since it’s all the way on the other side of the room.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Finn sighs and stretches out his arms like he’s about to make bed angels.

  “Clothes, Finn.”

  “Right. And she claims she doesn’t want me.”

  Helping Finn out of his clothes isn’t easy. He’s freaking heavy when he isn’t trying. And then there’s the loopy grin he won’t stop giving me. It’s adorable and annoying all at once. Especially when he gets tangled in his shirt. I finally free him and then tackle his jeans.

  “Lift your ass so I can get these off.”

  “You say the sexiest things, Chester.”

  I roll my eyes and tug when he complies. His jeans and boxer briefs come off as one and I’m left holding them while staring down at the glory that is his nude body stretched on the bed. And it is glorious, no doubt about that.

  He gives me a heated look through lowered lids. “You’re staring at my dick.”

  “It’s hard.”

  So hard. The thick rod points straight upward. My sex tightens in response.

  Finn skims a hand over his length. “It’s a Chess related condition. Wanna help me out with it?”

  Yes. I want to suck it like a lollipop then sink onto it and… Down girl. No, no, no.

  “You’re relentless,” I say, tossing aside his clothes.

  “Also a Chess related condition.”

  “Mmmhmmm. Come on, get under the covers.”

  “Not until you undress too.”

  The firm set of his chin tells me he’s not going to let this go. With a sigh, I pull off my clothes, aware of his observation. It’s the way he watches that really gets to me, though. He clearly likes what he sees, but there’s a tenderness to his expression, as if he’s drinking me in, memorizing every line of my body, cherishing it, that makes my heart clench.

  I shake off the feeling and stand by his side. “There. Now we can both go to sleep.”

  “You are so fucking beautiful,” he says.

  I clear my throat but my voice is still raspy. “You’re beautiful too.”

  He doesn’t seem to hear me but keeps gazing at my face as if I’m an answer to an old riddle. “How did I get so lucky finding you?”

  “Must be your Irish blood.” I move to take his arm and help him up when Finn strikes.

  He rolls over to pin me to the bed and the tip of his penis touches my opening, where it is slick and wanting. We both pause, staring at each other, our breath going a little erratic. I know he feels how wet I am. I give him a weak smile. “It’s a Finn related condition.”

  The words are barely out of my mouth when he groans and pushes in swift and deep. We both groan then, my back arching, hips bearing down. A second’s pause and then he’s fucking me with steady but hard strokes.

  I stop thinking. I move with him, my hands gliding over his firm muscles. He feels so good the way he fills me up, the way he works me. “We weren’t supposed to do this. You’re drunk.”

  “Your fault.” He grunts. “You let me feel your pussy. Game over, babe.”

  “You stuck your dick in my pussy.” I moan. “It’s your fault.”

  Sweat rolls down his temple, and he swivels his hips in a way that hits all the right places. “If you want to get technical, I stuck my dick in after I felt—”

  “Shut up, and fuck me, Mannus.”

  A shudder goes through him and then he’s pounding me into the bed. So very good.

  His lips graze my cheek. “I love this. I fucking love this.”

  I do too. So much. Nothing is like being with Finn. I wrap my legs around his waist and nuzzle the damp hollow of his neck. He shudders when I lick him there, suck on his smooth skin. I want to bite him, clamp my teeth and let him ride me.

  “Fuck, Chess. Tell me this is real. That you’re not going to get bored and have a threesome without me.”

  The words take a second to sink it. But I rear back and glare up at him. “Finn!” I slap at his side to get his attention.

  He pauses, deep inside me. I can feel the pulse of his dick and it almost distracts me. Almost. I give his shoulder a little shove. “You did not just say that.”

  This is why we shouldn’t be having sex when he’s chatty Kathy dunk.

  Gazing down at me, he grinds his base against my clit just once as if his body is independent from his mind, then he groans. “Sorry,” he manages. He blinks down at me and takes another breath. “That was stupid… I don’t think you… It’s just North’s wife fucked three other guys, and Dex’s girl is depressed. Jake thinks everything is crap, and Rolondo’s warning me about training camp woes…”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, but his expression is aggrieved and distraught. My hand strokes his back. “What kind of crazy-sauce dinner was this?”

  “An awful one,” he laments, slowly starting to move again. God, he knows how to fuck.

  My lids flutter and I run my hand down to his firm butt.

  “I got heartburn and wanted to go home to you,” he states. “But they kept talking about relations and giving me beers.”

  I fight a snicker. And he grumbles some more, frowning at the memory.

  “Poor baby,” I whisper, pulling him down for a kiss.

  His mouth meets mine. It’s a bit sloppy but intense, as if he wants to devour me, and my pulse quickens, heat surging. I wiggle beneath him, and he starts thrusting again, hard, grunting pumps that feel so good, I whimper.

  “Tell me we’ll try,” he demands inside of a kiss. “Tell me I won’t be crying in my macaroni.”

  My lips twitch, but I cup his cheeks, and kiss him deep. “We’ll try. No crying in macaroni, Finn.”

  “No,” he agrees. And then he’s all business, moving with skill and precision. I’m coming before I even know what hits me. My reaction sets Finn off.

  I’m pretty sure he comes, but I’m too distracted by the second orgasm. It hits me so hard, I lose track of things. By the time I settle back on Earth, my throat is sore and I’ve called Finn a god several times over. I may have used other terms. I can’t remember.

  Sweaty and panting next to me, he gives me a lazy, pleased look. “I’m glad we got that settled, Chester.” His lips brush over mine. “Hush now, your fuck master needs his rest.”

  Right. I’d called him that. I’m too exhausted to do anything more than drape my limp arm over his slick chest and drift into a well-earned sleep.

  * * *

  Finn

  * * *

  Morning is not my friend. We have a dubious relationship at best; I get up early because I have to, not because I enjoy it. But right now? I feel like a truck ran over me in my sleep.

  I blink, trying to clear my vision, and notice the slim form of Chess standing by the bed. She’s grinning down at me with an expression that’s a bit evil. “Good morning, starshine.”

  Licking my dry lips, I manage to roll onto my back. “Do you think,” I rasp. “That we could both pretend I’m perfectly fine right now?”

  Chess’s grinning mug hovers over me. “Now, why would we want to do that?”

  I try to glare but my eye pulses, and I groan instead.

  Chess smiles so wide, her cheeks puff up. She takes a step back, and only then do I notice the cup of steaming coffee in her hand.

  “Please say that’s for me.”


  “I don’t know. Can you sit up?”

  With a grunt, I haul my sad ass up and slump against the headboard. The room tilts for a second, and I take a deep breath. “Coffee.”

  Chess sits on the edge of the bed and hands me the cup. She is a goddess because the coffee is strong and black with exactly the right amount of sugar.

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  She snuggles a bit closer, resting her head next to mine on the padded headboard. “You okay?”

  “Me? Please. I have the metabolism of a god.”

  “Right.”

  I take another snip of coffee and pinch the bridge of my nose. “What time is it?”

  “Twelve.”

  “What?” I lift my head up too fast. Mistake. “I missed first breakfast and elevenses?”

  Cool green eyes study me. “Exactly how many beers did you drink last night?”

  “It wasn’t the beer,” I mumble into my cup. “Absinthe might have been involved at some point. Jake’s a fan.”

  She stays silent, and I turn my head to face her. “Seriously, can we pretend this didn’t happen?”

  “Do you remember everything?”

  I remember that I’m naked. And my dick stirs. His memory is crystal. “Yes,” I say, randy dick getting harder. “I’m generally a bit of a doofus when drunk, but I don’t forget things. Unfortunately.”

  She smiles then. “You were kind of a doofus.”

  “I’m sorry.” I so am. Chess dealing with me as a drunken moron was not how I’d wanted our first night home to go.

  “It was cute.” Her head moves to my shoulder.

  I finish my much needed coffee in two quick gulps and put the mug on the side table. Settling more comfortably on the bed, I tuck Chess into the crook at my side. “I sang, didn’t I?”

  Chess laughs and strokes my lower abs. “Elvis and Willie Nelson.”

  “Jesus.”

  “You know, if you colored your hair black, you’d make a pretty good young Elvis.” She blinks up at me. “Do you know ‘Hound Dog’?”

  “Cute.”

  “‘Jailhouse Rock’?”

  “Now, Chester, ‘Don’t be Cruel’.”

  She pauses and then snickers. “I see what you did there.”

  I roll over until I’m on top of her. “Oh, noes, I’m ‘Stuck On You.’”

  “Oh, god, stop,” she laughs, her sweet tits brushing against my chest.

  I work my way between her legs and settle in. “Do you ‘Surrender’?” I give my hips a small thrust, loving the way she squirms beneath me. “‘It’s Now Or Never.’”

  “No,” she declares hotly between her laughter, but her hips rock against my dick, urging me on.

  I nuzzle her neck, and she shrieks. So I nuzzle some more. “Man, you’re a ‘Hard Headed Woman.’ ’That’s All Right’, mama, no need to get ‘All Shook Up’…”

  “Argh! The cheesiness, it burns. It burns.” Green eyes glare up at me.

  I grin wide, our noses nearly touching. “What? You want ‘A Little Less Conversation’? Totally understand. I’ll just hang out here and be your ‘Teddy Bear.’”

  “I give, I give,” she wails.

  Grinning in triumph, I rest my head beside hers, my body bracketing her smaller one. “Don’t mess with the master.”

  Her hands find their way to my back to stoke my bare skin. I shudder with pleasure. Chess runs a finger down my spine. “Who knew you were such an Elvis fan.”

  “It’s my mom and dad. They used to play Elvis songs on Sunday nights when they cooked together. Pet me some more.”

  Chess hums, a happy noise. “Your parents are too cute.”

  “Did I mention they sang along?” I grimance. “I swear, that alone was responsible for half my teen angst.”

  “My parents sang show tunes. They loved duets.”

  “Fuck. You win.” I settle onto my side and bring her with me. If I linger any longer on top of her, my dick will get ideas that, frankly, my weak stomach and pounding head can’t handle at the moment.

  Chess resting on me feels so good, I’m happy to stroke her hair and doze. But my brain won’t turn off. “Hey,” I murmur. “How did your dinner with James go?”

  Instantly, she tenses, which makes me tense too. I lift my head to peer down at her. She’s frowning.

  “Okay,” she says.

  “That is the worst ‘okay’ I’ve ever heard, Chess.”

  With a sigh, she flops onto her back and blinks up at the ceiling.

  “Chess?”

  “James is moving,” she blurts out. “To New York to live with Jamie.”

  Hell.

  “Because he’s in love.” She makes the word sound like a curse.

  “And that’s bad?”

  Chess glares at me. “No. Yes.” A choked sound escapes her. “I hate change. I fucking hate it.”

  “Babe.” I rest my hand on her belly, giving her that small comfort. She’s tense as a coil, her body trembling. “I’m sorry he’s moving.”

  Tears form at the corners of her eyes, but she glares up at the ceiling unblinking as if she’s willing them not to fall. “He’s leaving me.”

  “He’s not leaving you. He’s just staying with Jamie.”

  “Not helping.”

  Yeah, I got that.

  “You can still visit him. Hell, I’ll buy you tickets to go every weekend, if you want.”

  Chess gives me a wobbly smile but then her expression crumples and she starts to sob. Panic runs through me. “Come here.” I gather her up. “Chester. Baby, don’t cry.”

  “I’m not,” she wails, clutching my shoulders and burrowing her face in the hollow between my pecs.

  “My mistake,” I murmur, wanting to smile despite the fact that her pain hurts me too. I’ve never met a woman less willing to admit weakness. She’s as bad as a football player that way.

  Gently I rock her as she sobs, her body wracking with it. I stroke her back, the long strands of her hair. She clings tighter. “Everything is changing,” she cries. “My house is gone. My stuff. My best friend is gone. Everything is gone.”

  I’m here. I’m not leaving.

  But I don’t say a word. This isn’t about me. I just hold her.

  “Fucking Jamie,” she grumbles through her sobs. “Fucking seducer of best friends.”

  I can’t help it, a snicker breaks free. Because I’ve met Jamie via one of Chess and James’s FaceTime chats. Seductress she is not; more like a cross between Tinker Bell and Urkel.

  Chess stills, clearly having heard me laugh. Instantly, I feel like a shithead. She’s hurting and…

  A snort leaves her. And then she’s laughing too, the sound raspy and thick with tears. “Oh, my god, I’m such an asshole.”

  Smiling, I cuddle her closer until there isn’t an inch of space between us. “You’re upset. If Jake left town to shack up with a cute geek, I’d be irate too.”

  With a sigh, she sags against me. “I like Jamie.”

  “I know you do.”

  She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either. The rapid beat of her heart thumps against my ribs. I smooth my hand down her back. After a while, she stirs.

  “I’m not a crier,” she mutters against my damp chest.

  “Okay.” I kiss her temple.

  “I’m not. I don’t even like sappy movies.”

  I run my fingers through her hair. “Me either.”

  “I hate James.”

  “Do you want me to go kick his ass?”

  I can feel her smile. “No. I love him.”

  For a sharp second, I actually want to kick James’s ass, resenting him for getting those words from Chess. I pull back and look down at her tear swollen face.

  With a grimace, she wipes her cheeks. “I need a tissue.”

  “I’ll get you one.” My voice is oddly thick.

  I move to get up but she stops me with a touch to my arm. “Thank you. For being here.”

  My hand feels heavy as I cup her c
heek. “You’re going to be okay, Chester.”

  She leans into my touch but her expression is mulish. Stubborn as ever. “How can you know that?”

  I give her a small smile, my thumb brushing her damp cheek. “Because I’m making it my job to see that you are.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Finn

  * * *

  For the first time in my life, I spend the entire day in bed with a woman. I don’t know what that says about me. Have I led a shallow life? Or have I simply been waiting for her?

  I don’t dwell on it; I’m having too much fun.

  After Chess settles down, we take a shower. Showering together should be a house rule. At least when I have nowhere to go, because it’s not an experience I want to rush. I thank my foresight for asking my contractor to put a built in bench in my massive shower. I can comfortably sit there, thighs spread wide, and let Chess ride me while hot water rains down on us.

  Perfection.

  After the shower, it’s right back to bed. We settle in, and I let Chess pick out a movie for us to watch. “I’m going to order a pizza,” I tell her as she scrolls through the movie menu.

  “I want meatballs on it.”

  “Meatballs?” I shake my head. “That’s just overkill. Order sausage like a normal person.”

  “Meatballs. And onions.”

  “No onions.”

  Chess gives me a long look.

  “I’m giving you meatballs,” I say.

  She snickers, and I roll my eyes.

  “No onion breath, chuckles,” I tell her over her laughter.

  “Fine.” She flips down a row of movie titles. “And extra cheese.”

  “A given.”

  I call in our order and then toss the phone aside. “You’re picking Ocean’s Eleven? Excellent.”

  Chess rests her head in the crook of my shoulder as the movie begins to play. “Why do you sound so surprised by my pick?”

  “I thought you’d choose a chick flick.”

  “Because that’s so me,” she drawls.

  “You don’t like sappy movies. Chick movies aren’t always sappy. They can be mushy too.”