“Tell me.”
“Suck,” he says. I put my mouth on him and pull, bobbing my head back and forth. I do it until my jaw aches and he says, “Yeah. Like that. Deeper.”
I inhale through my nose and take as much of him as I can, and then even more. My mouth is crammed with him when I go too far and gag. I jerk back. My throat constricts as I gasp for air. “I’m sorry,” I wheeze.
“That my cock’s too big for your mouth?” he asks, gravel in his voice. “I’m not. And you won’t be later, either.”
I wipe saliva from my chin. “What?”
His grin borders on sinister as he takes my upper arm. “Come up here.”
“Am I that bad?” I ask, standing.
“No. I’m stopping you so I don’t come now and end the night early.” He takes my face in his hands and leans in.
I pull away. “I just gave you a blowjob.”
“And?” He holds me in place and kisses me full on the mouth. “You better get un-squeamish, Hals.” He lowers his voice, trailing kisses down my neck. “So I can kiss you when I want. Touch you where I want. Fuck you how I want. You can always say no, but just assume I want all of it.”
Hals. Nobody’s ever called me that before. I raise my chin toward the ceiling, exposing my neck for him. I think I was going to ask him what “all” he’s referring to, but I’m quickly losing my train of thought.
Finn embraces my waist and lifts me, walking me backward. He sits me on a surface. “The kitchen table?” I ask.
“Of course. This is where I eat all my meals.”
Before I can ask what he means, Finn attaches his lips to mine like he needs my breath to keep him upright. He tugs my blouse from my skirt, separating from me only long enough to pull it over my head.
Planting a paw-like hand on each side of me, he traps me where I am. “Let me see you.”
I sit up straight. Our mouths almost touch. Sucking in my tummy, I reach back and unclasp my bra. My breasts are one area I’ve never had complaints, but when I lost weight, they got a little smaller. Rich and I slept together less and less over the past few months, even though he made sure I knew how much better I looked thinner.
Finn nods once, urging me on, and I slide both straps down my shoulders.
He stares while I try not to look at his cock, hard and reaching between us. “What the fuck’d I do to deserve these?” he asks, thumbing one of my hardening nipples. “You’ve got the tits of a . . . I don’t even know. A chick with great tits.”
I can’t really blame him for going dumb. I did too a couple minutes ago. I’m more concerned with what he thinks of the rest of me. Finn’s the most attractive man I’ve ever been with.
The elastic of my skirt and tights creates a roll of fat. Like my breasts, it’s smaller than it used to be, but Finn doesn’t know that. “Finn?”
“Hmm?” Without looking away from my breasts, he runs a hand under my skirt and licks his lips. “Can I just . . . taste you everywhere and all at once?” he asks.
I smile shyly, and finally, he looks back into my eyes. “You like it?” I ask.
“Like what?”
“All of it. Some of it?”
He squints at me. “You’re asking if I find you attractive?”
My chest tightens. If he says no, I don’t trust myself not to react badly. I shouldn’t’ve asked when tonight’s been going so well. “You don’t have to answer.”
Propping himself up with one arm, he scoops his other around my waist and hauls me to the edge of the table. My legs open wider, automatically wrapping around him as he pushes his cock right up against me. I gasp louder than I mean to.
“It likes you,” he says. “I like you.”
“Yes, but—”
“It wants to be inside you. I want to be inside you.”
“Okay.” I blush. “I get it.”
He moves against me slowly, every nuance of his shaft sliding between my legs, over my silky tights. “It wants to make you feel so good, you’re ruined. Right here, right now. I won’t let it, not tonight anyway, but that’s what it wants.”
I begin to quiver. The table is cold, even through my stockings. He’s all man, bordering on Neanderthal, and I’m certain sex with him will be unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
“Are you afraid?” he asks.
“A little.”
“Good. You should be. This is scary. Are you good with that?”
His words have the opposite effect they should. They’re more calming than troubling. He recognizes this is more than just sex. If he means to ruin me, I don’t have the desire to stop him. “Yes.”
He holds me in place by my lower back. “I don’t want casual sex, I never have. I want you to come knowing I’m doing this to you. I’m giving you this and taking what I need from you. I’m watching you. That’s why I couldn’t do this before. I have to know you’re not holding back a single fucking thing from me.”
If I let him in the way he’s asking . . . what if I have to one day rid myself of him? I won’t be able to. This feels permanent. Being ruined takes on a new meaning.
He skates his hand up my spine, to the center of my back, and applies pressure until I arch into him. My nipples graze his chest. “Does that answer your question?” he asks.
“What was my question?”
He smirks and lowers his mouth to suck the skin between my breasts. I gulp air and let my head drop back. My nipples are painfully erect when he draws one between his teeth.
“Oh, God, Finn.” He tugs. Sucks it hard. Lets it go with a pop. “God. Please.” I pray for relief. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
“You like that?” he asks. “Because I’m about to do the same thing to your clit.”
When I squirm, I’m reminded my legs are still open. Suddenly, I want to get my tights the fuck off. I want for him to tease me, sliding, filling, slamming until I feel nothing else.
Finn lays me on my back. “Shut your eyes,” he says. “Just focus on what I’m doing.”
My lids are already heavy, so I give in. He urges my hips up to undo my skirt. The zipper ends right at my tailbone, eliciting a shudder from me. He pulls the waistband of my tights down around my thighs and leaves them there, cutting into my skin. “Do you have the kind of tights that stop halfway up your thighs?” he asks.
“Stockings? I can get some.”
“Get some.” He removes them. “Cheap ones.”
“Why do they need to be cheap . . .?”
“They’ll only last a night.”
My mushy brain doesn’t even know where to start with that. He’s not only going to ruin me, but my clothing too, and it’s going to be in the future. We haven’t even done this yet, and we’re making plans to do it again. I feel my breath moving through me, my blood circulating through my veins.
With my eyes closed, I reach out for him. He complies, covering my body with his, and kisses me good and thorough. His fingers between my legs test me without entering. I groan and moan, arch and writhe, wanting him inside me any way I can get him. I don’t even know how it’s possible that I could climax already. He kisses his way down my sternum and parts my knees. I’m already at the edge, but he grabs me under the ass and pulls me onto his mouth so I’m practically hanging off the table.
I put my feet on his shoulders. His appreciative groans vibrate against my pussy. My hips buck as he licks and tastes. He puts one hand on my stomach to pin me down, then grabs my knee with the other. Pushing my leg up, he bares me to him even more. After plunging his tongue in me a few times, he makes good on his promise to love my clit.
As good as it feels, nothing sounds better than connecting with him in the most intimate way. I want to feel him, look into his eyes, come with him. “Please, Finn . . .” I beg.
“I know what you want, but we can’t. You can orgasm like this.”
“But you didn’t.”
“You first.”
I don’t know whether to cry or come. It wouldn’t be the firs
t time tonight I did either. His ministrations continue until my thighs shake around his head and my back arches off his kitchen table, and oh yes, finally I understand his joke about eating his meals here. I’m dinner.
“Now,” he says, muffled by my thighs.
Now? Now what?
He digs his fingers into my skin and gorges on me. Aha—come. Now. That’s what I’ve been ordered to do. And like the good girl I am, I do, right in his mouth. He laps me up until I’m finished.
When I come to, he’s standing over me. “You good?” he asks.
My breasts rise and fall. “Amazing.”
He picks me up from the table to cradle me in his arms. “It’s only fair you taste yourself since I did.”
Another first for me, kissing a mouth covered in me. Finn somehow makes it sexy. “This is just the start,” he says.
“I think we’ve gotten as creative as it gets without a condom.”
“I look forward to proving you wrong. But right now, we should sleep.”
Even when I messaged Finn, I never dreamed I’d be spending the night with him. I nuzzle into his chest. “Here?”
“Yes. Well, not in the kitchen.” I hear the smile in his voice. “How’s my bed sound?”
My skin prickles. I hope he can’t feel my goosebumps, how excited just the idea of his bed makes me. I try to play it cool. “That would be fine.”
He carries me down the hall to his bedroom. It’s dark, but the open shades provide some moonlight. He lays me on the mattress and disappears. Either he’s only gone a few seconds, or I fall asleep, because next thing I know, he’s wrapping himself around me from behind. He squeezes me to him until I’m perfectly puzzled into his body. “You’ll be able to sleep with me crushing you like this, right?” he teases.
I wear a smile on my face I doubt even the deepest sleep could erase. “I’ll manage.”
“There’s so much I want to know about you,” he says, his mouth at my ear. “Earlier, when I said this was the start, I meant of us.”
Us. How is it possible to make it all the way to twenty-five without ever having felt like part of an us? “You know more than you think,” I confess. “You probably know more than anyone else.”
“Because of the journal?” he asks softly. “Are there others?”
I don’t answer. I’ve bared enough of myself for one night. I’ve gotten the intimacy I wanted, and being with him has been just right. I don’t want to risk going any deeper.
He seems to understand my silence, letting the question hang as we drift to sleep.
13
Finn’s bed is white, the brightest spot I’ve seen in his apartment. Snowy pillows and sheets match the frost forming on the glass outside. An indigo dawn yawns through the window. He’s no longer curled around me, but the mattress dips with his weight.
I look over my shoulder. His face is shadowed, his silhouetted profile strong and square against the linens as he stares up at the ceiling. I want to go to him, but I’m warm and heavy where I am, glutted with him.
“Hey.” My voice cracks.
He turns his head. “Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says. “Go back to sleep.”
I check the clock on his nightstand. “Do you always get up at five?”
“I’ll come back to bed when I’m done.”
“You want company? I should shower before work.”
“No.”
I’m not entirely awake, but his rejection is harsh enough to sting. I turn back to my side of the bed. “Oh-kay.”
He laughs and squeezes my shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that. The thing is, I’m kind of dying over here.”
“Dying?”
“I want to fuck you so bad, Halston. More than I’ve ever wanted to do anything. I can’t believe I’m the idiot without a condom.”
“You could’ve just gone downstairs to get one.”
“Then I’d have to leave you. Anyway, I’m hot and hard and it’s not going so well for me. That’s why I just need to take a cold shower. Alone.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling over his discomfort. “But it’s like forty degrees outside.”
“Yeah. I realize I sound like a sex addict. I should keep my mouth shut.”
“I like it open,” I say, my voice raspy. “Your mouth.”
“Yeah?” He kisses me on the back of the head. “I promise, I’ll do nothing other than buy condoms today. All day long. Or at least until you can get back here. When do you get off work?”
Work. Shit. It’s warm and perfect in here, cold, crowded and loud out there. I have to see Rich. And my dad. Maybe I can avoid them . . . the arguing . . . the attempts to change my mind . . . and come back here.
My new happy place.
Finn’s warm, soft bed.
“What?” Did he ask me something? Oh, yes. Work. “I’m done at six . . . ish.”
“How about five-ish?”
“Hmm?”
“Four?” His laugh sounds distant. “Sleep. I’ll be right back.”
I nuzzle into my pillow, but just as I’m drifting into a dream, I’m jolted back to reality. I have to see Rich today. And no, there’s no avoiding him or my father. They’ll want answers. Rich will blame the break-up on my change in treatment. I’m not even sure I can defend myself. The two things may be linked some way or another.
I’m wide awake now, and the sky is lightening to sapphire. A wispy layer of snow fleeces some bare branches outside. Work problems aside, there’s romance in the air. I’m supposed to leave Finn alone, but I think it’s because he’s so turned on, he can’t sleep. He didn’t come a second time last night, and after the way he ate me to orgasm, I owe him. I salivate just remembering him in my mouth. Maybe I’d be welcome if I showed up to finish what I started.
I sit up in bed and rub my eyes. The cold wood floor has me scurrying to his bathroom. The door is cracked, and I push it open just enough to see his reflection in the mirror. His back is turned to me, his ass firm and delicious enough to take a bite out of.
Leaning one hand against the tile wall, the muscles of his other arm bulge.
He’s touching himself.
No, he’s jerking off.
His arm moves faster. He drops his head back, then turns slightly to grab the showerhead. He repositions it to beat right on his hair. Since there’s no steam at all, he must not’ve been exaggerating—the water’s cold.
I should return to bed, but I’m riveted and aroused by his grunts. The pained expression on his face. The tightening of his back muscles. His broad shoulders. My eyes travel down his body. His cock. It’s at least twice the length of his massive fist. He pumps his hand back and forth as water slicks his hair back from his face, its golden color turning his wet skin bronze. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and visibly holds in a groan, probably so he won’t wake me.
I could help him. Get down on my knees in front of him and offer hands and a mouth. I’ve never swallowed a man’s cum, but I’d do it, I would. I don’t move, though. I watch until the end. Until he curls one hand into a ball and paints the tile in front of him.
As turned on as I am, I hope this is the last time I see this. I want to be that hand, that lip, even that wall. I’d let him come in my mouth, but also on my back, my tits, my face—wherever he wanted.
My throat goes dry when a chilling realization hits me.
Maybe I’m the sex addict in this relationship.
* * *
I love the office break room. My assistant could easily help maintain the steady stream of coffee into my mouth, but I look forward to my morning, late-morning, afternoon, and late-afternoon trips from my office to the break room. I mean, for God’s sake, it’s a no-work zone that’s lousy with my absolute favorite smell. Yep. Coffee.
Rich never comes to the break room, so my first mistake is assuming I’m safe there.
When he walks in, he glances at the m
ug in my hands. “Can you excuse us?” he asks Benny.
She grabs an apple. “I’ll be at my desk.”
I wait until she’s left the room to address Rich. “She doesn’t know. Nobody does. I don’t want to do this here.”
“Your dad wants to see us in his office.”
“Is it about business?”
“It’s going to happen, you know it is. Unless you change your mind about us, your dad’s going to get his two cents in.”
I put my mug down and walk past him. “It doesn’t help your case when you run to him first chance you get. This isn’t Three’s Company.”
We walk through the maze of desks. “I was worried,” he says in a hushed tone.
I don’t respond. Already, people at this company are too invested in my personal life since I’m the daughter of the founder and the girlfriend of the top-performing account manager.
In the elevator, Rich hands me the mug I just put down. “You’ll want this.”
I cross my arms to prove I don’t need looking after, but my rebellion only lasts one floor. I take the coffee and mutter, “Thanks.”
The doors open to the executive floor. My dad’s office is front and center. His secretary glances up as we approach. “He’s expecting you.”
My dad’s on the phone, pacing the length of the window in his office. He takes his eyes from Fifth Avenue to watch us enter. “The bottom line is, never date a woman who knows what you drive before she meets you, and a mouse in a cheese commercial will kill your brand, so forget about the rodent, would you?” he asks, completely serious, as if those are two perfectly normal statements to string together. I sit in a chair across from him, and Rich follows suit. “Uh-huh. Sure.” Dad laughs. “We’re happy to make that contribution, Bob. See you next week.”
Dad flings the phone aside as his smile flips upside down. That doesn’t tell me anything. His bullshit always clears the room as soon as we’re alone.
“He won’t give up the mouse,” I say. “We’ve all tried.”
“Sure he will. It’s all about approach with a man like that.” He sits forward and plants his elbows on the desk. “What’s going on between you two?”
Slip of the Tongue Series: The Complete Boxed Set Page 85
