by Liz Meldon
It was then she noted their size difference, that he had at least a half foot on her, his solid frame making her feel petite—dainty even—in his arms. In her mind, Skye was far from dainty. Average. Toned from yoga and the gym. Attractive enough to pass as Cole’s fake girlfriend. But not petite.
Yet Finn made her feel that way: safe, but in his control, in his very capable hands.
“W-What?” she managed as he continued to massage her slick sex, occasionally slipping a finger between her folds before returning to her clit. “What’s your favourite thing?”
“Well…” He tweaked a nipple, eyes darting to hers when they widened in surprise. A twinge of pain intermingled with the steady stream of pleasure rolling out from her core—like the ocean lapping at the shore. “I suppose there are two things I enjoy more than anything else. Can’t you guess?”
“I always assumed men just like fucking,” she said, her voice catching when he rolled her nipple between his fingers, “period.”
“Uncultured men, sure.”
She watched as he removed his hand from her bra, leaving one nipple woefully unattended, while he continued to drive her closer to that precipice again below. Somehow he managed to torment her without hurting her, perhaps guessing how sensitive she’d be after that last orgasm. “There’s nothing I like more than watching a woman come undone. To experience pure bliss while I watch…”
The noise he made, the one that caught in his throat like a possessive snarl, as he grazed his teeth along her neck—it was almost her undoing. Skye trembled, fingers curling over the mirror, no longer interested in their reflections.
The light glinting off the foil square in his hand caught her interest instead, and she watched, her body sagging in the absence of his hand between her thighs, as he ripped it open—then resumed his gentle torture, rubbing and caressing and coaxing her quivering body closer to yet another climax.
“My second favourite is perhaps the less important of the two,” he murmured. Behind her, Skye felt him maneuvering himself out of his trousers, his hardness dropping against her lower back momentarily before he sheathed it in the condom. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Widen your stance, Miss Skye.”
A request. An order. A polite command. Whatever it was, she complied willingly, opening herself to him, and bending further over the countertop.
“You see, my second favourite thing…” His hand smoothed up her back while the other gripped her hip. “Are you ready for it?”
“Stop being an ass—”
He thrust into her, filling her slick channel, and she gasped, a sound that evolved into a moan when his hips collided with her backside. His eyes… She caught them in the mirror. Not once did they leave her face, not until she ducked her head and groaned, temporarily overwhelmed by the whole affair, her cheeks hot.
“It’s that moment,” Finn whispered, bending over her, leaving a string of kisses between her shoulder blades, up her neck, as she adjusted to him. Trailing his tongue along the shell of her ear, he chuckled. “The first time I take a woman… Watching her. The surprise. The pleasure. The excitement. There’s nothing more beautiful.”
Her only response was an incoherent jumble of words that even Skye didn’t understand. His mouth moved down from her ear, slowly working along her jaw, her cheek, until he clasped her chin and turned her head so his lips could claim hers. While thrown by the feeling of fullness, by the pleasure pulsing out from where they joined, Skye kissed him back with equal fervor. She wasn’t a passive participant in this, and she made it clear when she wrapped an arm around his neck and sucked on his tongue, catching the lingering taste of herself there and moaning.
Finn’s hand grazed her bare stomach, slowly questing upward to slip between her breasts. His palm’s slight pressure eased her upward, just enough so she felt the heat of his torso on her back, her body framed by the hard confines of his. At first she was too shy to look at herself in the mirror, but as he started to thrust into her, slowly, firmly, she found her courage.
And it truly was a sight to behold. Skye could never watch other people fuck—maybe porn, if she was in the mood—but there was something uniquely thrilling about watching herself being taken by an almost stranger. A man so stunning that she still wondered why her—why all the effort? There were plenty of women here who would have been less of a challenge.
But all her worries, her thoughts, melted away as he slid in and out of her. Never completely. They were always in contact, one way or another. Be it the caress of his lips along her ear, the thickness of his cock filling her sex, or the fiery hold of his gaze when their eyes met in the mirror; contact was essential. With one hand pressed to the mirror for support, she twined her other through his hair, reaching behind, arching herself for him, noting the groan he made when she did. While his pace quickened somewhat, it was always steady. Rhythmic and constant. Ever-present. Like the pounding of her heart. No longer racing, it seemed to beat in time with their lovemaking…
Or was it fucking?
Skye didn’t mind either term; they both suited Finn Rai. The way he pursued her, the way he pleasured her—that was fucking. The way he looked at her, kissed her, toyed with her clit—that was lovemaking. There was room for both.
“To me,” he whispered, mouth trailing along her jawline as his pace quickened, skilled fingers dragging her to the edge—and Skye was more than willing to take the plunge, “there’s nothing sexier than watching a woman enjoy herself. Nothing I like more than tasting her pleasure, watching it unfurl…”
“From women everywhere, I s-salute you,” she said, her words breathier than she would have liked. The bite had vanished. The bark too. All Skye had left was surrender—and god damn did she bask in it.
Her hand tore from his hair, which earned her a kiss from the gorgeous man behind her, and Skye braced it against the mirror as he thrust harder, faster, his fingers working her into a desperate frenzy—until the floodgates parted, until the levies broke, until the sky opened and drowned the earth. She came with a soft cry this time, eyes screwed shut as she rode out wave after wave of pleasure. Finn cursed when she clenched hard around him, and before she knew it, he was dragging her away from the granite countertop and pressing her back against the wall.
It happened so fast she almost had to pinch herself, so lost in her climax that the movements of her body felt foreign—like they weren’t hers, like she was merely watching someone else, but from their point of view.
Finn’s kiss revived her. Reality slammed back into her in time with his lips—kissing her as though he feared he might lose her. Still tingling with pleasure and heat, Skye cupped his face and kissed him back. She didn’t have to fear she’d lose him. Skye had him. And in that moment, she really didn’t want to let him go.
Finn hiked her legs up, wrapping them around his waist, then slipped himself back into her. She winced, straddling the line between pleasure and pain as he filled her. He gave her a moment, gliding his fingers over her hips and the gentle swell of her breasts.
“Are you okay?” he murmured thickly. Skye nodded. “You sure?”
“Just peachy,” she told him. “Seriously. I can take what you dish out—”
Another kiss, this time to swallow her words. Skye wrapped her arms around him, gulping down air when Finn buried his face against her neck—and finally just fucked her. There were no words. No teasing philosophies about women and their pleasure whispered against her skin. They were just a man and a woman, locked in each other’s arms, as Finn pounded into her. Searching for his own pleasure, one he had certainly earned at this point. Skye hung on for the ride, easing away from the sharpness of each thrust, steadily filled with a gentle, more subdued pleasure. She gripped his hair, tugging ever so slightly when he nipped at her shoulder.
He took her hard and fast. Roughly. Savagely. But it was still lovemaking.
At least, that was how Skye saw it. Because when he kissed her, his pace stuttering off and his face flushed, there was no mi
staking what this was.
Finn came with a soft groan, their mouths barely touching, open to one another in an almost-kiss. His whole body stiffened, then slowly relaxed against her, with Skye twirling his hair around her fingers rather than pulling at it. Combing it. Scratching his scalp as he sighed contentedly, his forehead resting on her shoulder.
“That was…” He exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. No words. Skye grinned, totally on the same page.
“Fucking awesome?”
“You Americans,” he muttered as he slowly eased out of her, then patiently waited for her to straighten herself out before backing away. “So brash.”
She smirked, ignoring the tremors skittering through her body, the hot and ever-present flush spreading from her cheeks to the hilt of her sex. “But honest?”
“Sometimes.” Finn appeared a little unsteady as he stumbled back and plopped down on the edge of the jacuzzi tub. “In this instance, I certainly hope so.”
While she had the sudden urge to climb onto his lap and just hug him, Skye resisted. Instead, she wobbled over to the sinks, turning her head away as he disposed of the condom, and hopped onto the cold countertop.
“I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself,” she told him, which made his eyes narrow slightly, his smile unsure.
“I can always try to prove my worth—”
She held up her hands, laughing. “No, you’ve proved your worth. I can’t go again.”
Finn’s smile brightened as he stretched his long legs out, his brown skin covered in a scant smattering of black hairs. She found the way he rolled out his ankles oddly endearing, like they were both passengers on a long-haul flight.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.
“You should.”
They watched one another, just as before, but this time it was Finn who reached out for Skye. He did so with a casual toss of his head and a twitch of his lips, and soon enough, she left the countertop behind, colliding in a sweet kiss that, for the first time, didn’t steal her breath or her words—but a little piece of her heart.
6
Lovemafucking Has Consequences
A knock at the door a half hour later jolted them from their conversation. Skye and Finn had been sitting opposite one another in the jacuzzi, sans water, and chatting—which, to be fair, was the last thing Skye had thought a man like Finn would want to do post-sex. She’d figured he’d be out of there like a shot, and she wouldn’t have faulted him for that. Amazing fucking—or, whatever, lovemaking—at a sex party didn’t exactly lend itself to cuddling afterward. Skye assumed it would be onto the next conquest, but there they were, talking about chocolate empires and shitty job interviews like they’d been friends for years.
“Just a moment,” Finn muttered, hopping out of the tub and crossing the bathroom with a few quick strides of those long legs. He’d slipped his black briefs on a while ago after complaining the tub was too cold to sit in totally nude, but Skye found it just the right antidote to her sore nether regions. Four years of nothing and then, out of nowhere, ravenous lovemafucking? Yeah. She’d definitely be feeling it tomorrow.
He returned a few moments later with her dress hanging over his arm—clean. Her eyebrows shot up, and she set aside the glass of water she’d been nursing.
“Is that…?”
“As promised,” he announced, unfurling it and shaking it out. “Not perfect, but better than if I’d left you to your own devices.”
Sure enough, most of the red wine stain had totally vanished. She only noticed a faint pink outline if she squinted hard enough. Impressive.
“Hey, I could have…” She laughed when he cocked his head to the side, waiting. “Okay, no, I would have totally ruined the dress. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Finn handed it back to her, and she resisted the urge to rub the just-out-of-the-dryer warmth against her cheek. “Listen, I don’t know how long you intended to be here tonight—”
“An hour, tops,” she said, Cole’s words a distant memory. Thinking about him plucked at the guilt strings within her, unseen fingers twanging each one and watching them vibrate. Cole. Where the hell was Cole?
“Well, if you’re leaving, then perhaps—”
“But I’ve been here more than an hour already,” Skye told him. “So, what’s up?”
His expression shifted from its cautious optimism to something a little giddier, which she appreciated. All these moguls, Cole included, were so tight-lipped about their emotions. Finn was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one.
“I need to fetch a few things, but why don’t you get dressed?” He grabbed his shirt off the ground, but didn’t button it up, then slipped into his trousers. “I’ll take you on a tour of the back gardens, maybe we can go down to the beach?”
Her eyes flickered to her purse, long abandoned on the bathroom counter. She hadn’t heard her phone go off once since she’d arrived. Cole hadn’t asked after her. Was he still playing poker, or had he found a girl he actually wanted to take to bed? Skye swallowed hard.
“Sure. Why not? I bet the view’s beautiful this time of night.”
“Clear skies,” Finn noted. “We can probably see Jupiter from here.”
He winked, then darted out of the room, leaving her grinning like an idiot—a grin that faded in his absence, those invisible fingers plucking at the guilt strings even harder.
No. Stop that. She didn’t deserve to feel guilty. Cole had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to maintain their friendship, the kind of bond she had with no one else in her life, so why force something that might ruin it? The contract had only said she couldn’t have any public relationships. Sex was mentioned in reference to Skye and Cole, not Skye and gorgeous strangers at swanky parties.
It wasn’t like she’d cheated. She and Cole weren’t in a personal, intimate relationship. Well, not a romantic one, anyway. In public, sure. Skye dragged the dress Cole had purchased over her head, catching her furrowed brow in the mirror. She and Cole were friends. Maybe more. But maybe not. Not officially. He hadn’t insisted she be celibate for the last four years—it was a decision she had made all on her own.
She squared her shoulders, then climbed out of the tub and stood in front of the mirror.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said firmly, then ruffled her hair. No matter how many times she repeated those words, the guilt didn’t go away.
And that wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to Finn, and probably not to Cole.
Cole didn’t want her.
“Shake it off, girl.” She leaned in and did what she could to fix her smudged makeup. “It’s just for tonight.”
Swallowing whatever weird mishmash of emotion that stilted her movements and muddied her thoughts, Skye primped, checked out the quality of her laundered dress, and sat around twiddling her thumbs. Eventually, she moved on to playing with her phone, something she did so rarely that she had no idea what to even do on there. After a quick email check—no job offers—she added her underwear to her intricate lingerie get-up, one that she couldn’t wait to take off now, and left the bathroom for the first time in what felt like hours.
No Finn.
Frowning, she retraced her steps back to where this had all begun: that fateful corner where two drunk girls had made her spill red wine all over herself. Still no Finn. The enormous house had quieted down in her absence, but a glance out the windows overlooking the back gardens and beach suggested most of the party had just moved outside, with and without their clothes.
Skye drummed her fingers on the ledge, breathing in the warm night air as an ocean-side breeze billowed across the property. Had Finn bailed on her? Had she misread him completely?
“Skye?”
She whirled around, heart leaping into her throat, as Cole’s voice echoed down the sparsely furnished corridor. He strode toward her with a familiar smile on his face, the kind that always affected her from head to toe. It still did, but in that moment, prickly guilt struck
her, not flirtatious affection.
“Hey,” she managed when he kissed her cheek. “Where’ve you been?”
“The game went on much longer than I’d anticipated,” he said with a huff. “And by game, I don’t mean poker.”
She forced a laugh. “I figured as much.”
“I hope you weren’t too bored.” He dug out his phone when it chirped in his pocket, brow puckering slightly as he tapped around on the screen. “Are you ready to go? It’s a fucking madhouse in here.”
“Yeah… All those…sexual deviants.” Why did she feel like this? Cole didn’t want her like she wanted him. He’d made it perfectly clear over the last four years. She shouldn’t feel guilty. Being with Finn had been like coming up for air after living on the edge of drowning. Not that Cole had ever dragged her below the water’s surface, but maybe it was just the situation.
Cole slipped his phone away before appraising her. “You all right? You look a little…” Those bright eyes swept over her, assessing her with the attention to detail he was known for. “Flushed.”
“I’ve had a few to drink,” she told him, which wasn’t a lie. She was just more drunk on Finn Rai than she was on alcohol. “We can go if you’re finished.”
His head bobbed in agreement, though Skye didn’t miss the slight clench of his jaw. A flicker. A twitch of the muscle. It was a tic he’d never been able to hide whenever something bothered him.
“Yes, let’s get out of this den of lust,” he said, his chuckle sounding just as forced as hers had, “before we see something that neither of us will be able to forget.”
Skye folded her arms over her chest. “Agreed.”
They set out together, Cole seeming to know his way around the mansion better than her, but not ten steps down the hall did Skye hear her name bouncing off the walls again. Finn. She tensed at the sound of thundering footsteps, as though he were running. When he flew around the corner, he came to a sudden stop, eyes darting swiftly between her and Cole—a bottle of champagne in hand.
