Finn Again (The Finn Factor Book 5)

by R. G. Alexander

  “Weddings make me horny?” Trick offered in a lazy tone, enjoying the sound of Declan’s laughter.

  “Weddings make you run for the hills as a rule,” Declan responded.

  “Not anymore. And it’s all Jen’s fault.”

  “How is it my fault?”

  “It’s always sex, sex, wedding, sex with these Finns. It’s a wonder they have time to stop for food breaks or paying the bills.”

  Jen huffed out a laugh. “Owen and Jeremy are managing to resist the urge.”

  Trick snorted. “I doubt it. It was a shitty plan in the first place, but who is actually enforcing it? I’m having a hard time believing those two didn’t find a way to sneak into each other’s pants last night. They’re worse than we are.”

  “Oh, I think we could win that competition if we tried,” Declan said, his satisfied tone making Trick’s dick stir again.

  Jen laughed at them both and whacked Trick playfully. “They didn’t sneak anywhere. Tasha made sure of it. And you’re the bad influence, Tristan Dunham. There I was, having a good pout and you walked right in, ripped off my clothes and had your way with the two of us. Shameful.” She bit her lip. “I love you for that. Both of you. I really hate fighting.”

  Declan pushed himself onto his elbow and Trick saw the vulnerability in his eyes. “We love you too, Jen. I…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to fight with you. I apologize for upsetting you and the way I asked you. But not for asking. I can’t be sorry for wanting that with you.”

  Jen lifted her hand to caress his shadowed jawline while Trick stroked her hip tenderly. “It was a surprise, that’s all. Especially knowing you’d been discussing it without me. For future reference, that’s another one of those conversations I should be in the room for.”

  “Agreed,” Trick said immediately. “The next time Declan works up the nerve to ask you—in say, a week or so—we’ll talk about it together over dinner. Or in bed when you’re tied up and can’t get away.”

  She shook her head and pushed herself up into a sitting position, covering her breasts. “We don’t need to talk about it over dinner. I don’t want to get married. Not now.”

  “Oh.” Trick felt the same pain he could hear in Declan’s simple word.

  Jen sighed. “It’s not because of either of you. Not directly. I was engaged for years, you know that.”

  “To the wrong man,” Trick couldn’t help but point out.

  “The entirely wrong man,” she agreed instantly. “I picked out invitations and auditioned bands and I didn’t look up long enough to notice how wrong he was for me. Helping out for Owen and Jeremy has been fun, but it also brought up a lot of memories. Made me think about my future. Our future.”

  Shit. Conversations that started like this rarely ended well. “And you decided we were perfect and we all lived happily ever after in bed?”

  She grinned down at him, lowering her arms as her shoulders relaxed. “And now I have two men, both entirely right for me. Both necessary for my happiness.”

  “But you don’t want to marry us?” Declan asked quietly.

  Jen turned into Declan’s neck and nuzzled. “I do. That’s the problem. I honestly can’t imagine only marrying one of you, but I’m not an idiot. I know I can’t marry you both. Not legally. Owen and Jeremy’s wedding is important. Because they love each other. Because within my lifetime it wasn’t legal. Because Jeremy belongs to my family and we should have that down on paper somewhere. But for us? It’s only paper, Professor. And you know better than most that in other cultures we wouldn’t need it to make a true and lasting commitment to each other. We’ve already done that. We belong to each other, in every way that counts. What we have is what matters.”

  “She’s clever,” Trick said to Declan with a smile. “And using your own class notes against you too. I warned you Finns were stubborn.”

  But Declan was still frowning. “What about children? Later, of course,” he added hastily. “I know you still have your graduate studies.”

  Her smile was a siren’s call. “What about them? I’m a healthy baby-making machine, according to my doctor. As soon as I stop taking the pill, of course. Tasha made me go just in case.” She licked her lips and looked at both of them in turn. “When we have children in the not too distant future, I hope they’re as smart as both of you, and a little less trouble than I was. Smart enough not to care whether or not their parents have a piece of paper that says they’re married.”

  Declan had been talking about legalities and inheritance and she knew it, but she’d turned the tables on them. Her answer floored them both. “So, you wouldn’t be opposed to having kids sooner rather than later?” Declan’s face flushed, his eyes darkening with desire at the prospect.

  Trick felt her hand cover his where it stilled on her hip. “Definitely not. This house is way too big for the three of us. Babies and pets are the obvious answer. We can get me that dog anytime, by the way.”

  “If there were twenty of us and ten dogs, it would still be too big.” Trick hid his shaky smile against her shoulder.

  Jen made a face. “Twenty is a hard limit. But maybe three or four little Dunham-Kelleys and a pair of Boxers would be nice.”

  “Dunham-Kelley?”

  “If you don’t both agree on that they’ll be Finns,” she informed them smugly. “And you know I have no problem with—”

  Trick pulled her down and interrupted her with a kiss. A slow, hungry kiss that tried to show her how much she meant to him. Kids. Now that she’d said it he wanted to start right away. A family. The Dunham-Kelleys.

  He felt Declan’s hand on his head, gentling him. He understood what Trick was going through. The idea of a redheaded girl with gray eyes on his shoulders, carrying both their names…

  “Thank you,” he murmured, reaching up to tangle his fingers with Declan’s without lifting his mouth away from Jen’s. “My loves.”

  ***

  “Team Jeremy, here we come.” Trick grabbed her small overnight bag and loaded it into the car with his. He looked up and saw Jen in the doorway, locked in yet another Declan power kiss. He’d been on the receiving end of a few of those himself in the last hour. Professor Hot Lips really needed to give it a rest. “Damn it, Declan, I promise I’ll bring her back in one piece in the morning. Just don’t get so sad without us that you’re tempted to take a bite of that chocolate statue. You don’t want to lose all your Finn points overnight.”

  Jen’s laughter made Declan lift his head to glare at Trick in the waning light. “I won’t have time to be tempted. I called Noah while you were in the shower and he, Owen, Rory, Wyatt and Brady are all on their way over now. I thought my “TV wall” might help distract the groom. Go Team Owen.”

  Trick grinned. That’s my man. “Now I’m worried. Guard the liquor with your life.”

  They said goodbye and Trick drove them to Stephen’s house, unable to let go of Jen’s hand. He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said, letting Declan know it was all of them or none of them. It was, he realized, exactly what he’d most needed to hear.

  And she wanted to have children. Even now, when she’d spent the last few months worried for her pregnant friend. Now, when she’d been dealing with reconnecting with her mother and her internship and two attention-hungry, sexually demanding men.

  “I think it’s going to snow again,” she said, breaking the silence with a smile. “It smells like snow.”

  Trick inhaled and shook his head. “People say that all the time. What exactly does snow smell like?”

  She opened her mouth then closed it again, thinking. “I don’t know. It smells clean, I guess. Like all the noise and smoke and grime is suddenly gone and the world is brand new again.” She chuckled. “Too much cheese?”

  His hand tightened on hers. “Acceptable levels for a Christmas wedding. Jen?”

  “Yeah?”

  He forced the words out as gently as he could. “When you’re ready? We’ll be good fathers.”

&n
bsp; She gasped, turning toward him in her seat. “I know that, Trick.”

  “We didn’t have the best examples,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “And I know your dad is a tough act to follow, but—”

  “I said I know.” She sounded choked up, and he didn’t dare look away from the road. “There is no doubt in my mind that—when we’re ready—our babies will never want for anything, and never doubt how much they’re loved.”

  “Good.” He was such a fraud. Cocky Trick. Laid back Trick. He was a big, fat phony. Tristan Dunham wanted to hold a baby in his arms. Wanted to grow old beside the only two people in the world who mattered. “I wasn’t expecting that conversation. I didn’t know you thought about babies.” With me.

  “Oh, Trick,” she said, patting his hand playfully. “I’m a woman. I was born into this world, I cried when they spanked my ass, and then I started thinking about it.”

  He laughed then. He almost had to pull over because he couldn’t stop and his eyes were watering. She’d used his words against him. His response to her question, “What started you thinking about ménage?”

  They turned onto Stephen and Tasha’s street and Trick pulled over, putting the car in park to tug her into his arms. “I love you, Jennifer Finn.” He buried his face in her neck and breathed deep. “You smell like snow.”

  Chapter Five

  Christmas Eve…

  He wasn’t going to make it to the wedding.

  Jeremy paced the guest room Declan had put him in when he’d arrived. They’d made a big deal out of locking Owen in the library as he’d come in, reminding him every chance they got that this had been his bright idea. Tradition. No seeing the groom before the wedding. Bad luck bullshit that he’d thought sounded romantic a few days ago.

  It was not romantic.

  He’d helped Stephen get Tasha settled into their room. She wanted to argue, but it was clear she was tired from all the activity. He was so worried about her, if she argued about the wheelchair now he’d make her watch the wedding via Skype.

  Jen and the others had all scattered under Ellen Finn and the wedding planner’s commands, making sure they hadn’t missed anything. From what little he’d seen before he was herded up the stairs to take a shower, the living room was a softly-lit winter wonderland. A damn movie set. There was even a cello.

  And right now he didn’t care about any of it. He needed Owen. Wanted to touch him and kiss him and make sure this was what he wanted, to let him know either way Jeremy wasn’t backing out. Wedding or no wedding.

  But he really wanted this wedding.

  A short rap on the door had him clinging to his towel and whirling around. It was Ken. “Some bossy woman with a clipboard wants to know if you’re hungry. This show doesn’t start for another two hours, so you should probably have a—”

  Jeremy stalked closer and lowered his voice. “I need your help.”

  Ken’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “Is this bowtie help or bury a body help?” he asked cautiously. “Because I get a little carried away with bowties and we don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  Jeremy couldn’t decide whether to glare or laugh. “This is the kind of help where you get Owen in here now and don’t let anyone follow.”

  Ken Tanaka looked down at his shoes, his braid slipping over his shoulder as it shook with repressed laughter. “Oh,” he finally responded. “That kind of help. I have to say I wasn’t expecting this from you. Owen? Yes. Him I’ve been tempted to tie down since we got here. It’s like mating season all the time with him isn’t it? But I thought this was your idea.”

  Jeremy wanted to tug his hair in frustration but he couldn’t drop his towel. “Please, Tanaka. It’s important.”

  Ken nodded sharply. “Say no more, Porter. I’ll be right back.”

  The door closed and he sat down on the bed staring at the closet where his tuxedo was hanging. It didn’t feel real. The last few days with Tasha had been fun and exciting…but it hadn’t really sunk in until he’d arrived.

  He was marrying Owen Finn today.

  Jeremy had been overwhelmed when Owen had proposed to him in front of a packed pub and his whole family. In that moment he believed he’d never be happier. He’d already been proven wrong at least a dozen times, but today might top them all. As long as Owen got his ass in this room in the next sixty seconds.

  The doorknob turned and he stood, clutching his towel and trying to slow his racing heart.

  “I have to get dressed, damn it, why does she wa—” Owen stopped talking to whoever was behind him when he caught sight of Jeremy. “Never mind,” he spat at the looming shadow that must be Brady. “I’m good.”

  He slammed the door behind him, locked it and stared in silence until Jeremy dropped his towel. “Jesus,” Owen groaned, swiftly untying the robe that had Groom stenciled on the lapel and letting it fall to the floor, revealing a body just as naked as Jeremy’s. “Thank God.”

  Jeremy let Owen tug him close and kiss him hungrily. Yes. This was what he needed. Solid and real. To hell with tradition. Owen pulled back to look at him. “What do you need, babe? Having trouble getting ready without me?”

  “You,” Jeremy whispered, taking control and pushing Owen against the nearest wall. “I need you.” He dropped to his knees and took Owen’s erection deep in his mouth. Just like that first time.

  “Christ, you don’t know.” Owen slid his fingers into Jeremy’s hair, his hips already bucking forward. “I’ve been thinking about your mouth for days, babe. Oh fuck, like that. Just like that. Did you miss me that much?”

  Jeremy nodded, eyes closed as lust and bliss battled for domination inside him.

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re not doing this again. One wedding is enough for both of us.” Owen’s grip tightened. “God, I want to keep you on your knees all damn day for making me sleep alone, but we only have a few hours.” He tugged on Jeremy’s hair and hissed as he pulled out. “Where the hell is my robe?”

  Don’t leave, Jeremy wanted to shout, but he was too turned on. Too dazed. Why was Owen leaving?

  “I believe it’s my turn,” Owen said, turning with the robe’s tie in his hands. “Bend over the bed and put your hands behind your back, Jeremy. Now.”

  He didn’t hesitate. This is what he needed. Owen taking control. Taking the lead. Letting him know everything was going to be fine. Yes—Owen tied his wrists together—better than fine.

  “I have big plans for our honeymoon,” Owen said conversationally. “It involves a lot of begging on your part and it’s going to take days. As many hours as you thought you needed to stay away from me before the wedding.”

  Jesus. Longer than their session at the cabin. “Anything you want, Owen.”

  He felt a stinging smack on his ass cheek, and then heard a groan. “The honeymoon,” Owen repeated roughly. “Not now.”

  Jeremy moaned low and long at the feel of the tongue between his cheeks. When it pushed inside with a growl Jeremy almost floated off the bed. “Yes,” he gasped. “Owen, God that’s…”

  He couldn’t speak anymore. His cock was digging a hole in the bed and he couldn’t move with his hands tied. All he could do was take what Owen gave him. Deeper. Fuck me, baby. I need more. “Please.”

  Owen lifted his head. “Where’s the—”

  “Under the bed.”

  He bit his lip when Owen’s mouth left him and then he heard rustling and wrapping paper tearing. “Who the hell gave you this?”

  Jeremy pressed his forehead into the mattress. “Tasha. It was for us. For tonight.”

  “Fuck,” Owen swore softly. “She does know her toys and lube. I’m going to use every one of these on you after the reception. It looks like she bought out the whole store. I hope to hell you caught up on your sleep.”

  “I couldn’t sleep without you.” The honest reply was met with silence, then Owen was on the bed and cupping his face, kissing him like a man possessed.

  “I need you,” he gasped, pullin
g back and shuddering. “I need to…” He untied Jeremy’s wrists and rolled him onto his back, reaching behind him for a small red bottle of lube. “I’ll take my turn later. I want to see your face.”

  Jeremy arched his neck, writhing on the bed as Owen prepared him in silence. Then he was there, between Jeremy’s spread thighs as he stretched him with a slow, delicious pressure. “Finn.”

  Owen gripped his wrists and held them over his head. “You’ll be a Finn soon.” His lips parted as he sunk further inside. “Mine.”

  “I’m already yours.” I’ve always been yours. “Oh God…” Jeremy bent his knees and flexed his hips, needing all of him. Everything. Why was he holding back?

  “Slow, Jeremy.” Something in his tone made Jeremy open his eyes. “Let me love you.”

  And he did. Jeremy’s head was spinning as Owen kissed his neck, his chest, everywhere he could reach while keeping his strokes long and deep and achingly slow.

  Jeremy trembled beneath him, sounds like whimpers and pleas escaping his tight throat as the man he loved worshipped his body with a tenderness he’d rarely shown in the bedroom.

  “My Jeremy,” Owen whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “Always mine.”

  He was killing him. “I love you so damn much. Please, Owen.”

  Jeremy kissed him as if he were starving. It felt like he was. He was more on edge than any bondage or paddling session had ever made him. Strung out from desire with pre-cum coating the head of his cock, all he could do was wrap his legs around Owen’s waist and rock himself against his tight abs. “Owen.”

  Owen groaned against his lips, his hand slipping between them to grip as much of Jeremy’s erection as he could. He changed position and slung his hips with more force—Fuck, yes—faster than he had before. He was close. So fucking close.

  Love you, Owen. Love you, baby. Love…

  “God, Jeremy.” Owen was groaning loudly now. “Come for me, babe.”

  “Harder,” Jeremy cried. “Please, God, don’t stop. I’m going to—Owen.”