Finn Beckett

by Mj Fields

  “Weird?”

  “No, good.”

  I hold her hand up and kiss it. “Good.”

  The flight attendant announces we will be landing soon.

  “Saved by the bell.” She smiles, buckling her seat belt, then opening the laptop.

  “I know it’s not rock star money, but after a year, I was able to make more than enough to pay the mortgage payment I ended up having to take out, and now we have a household account. See?” She points to some sort of bar that shows two thousand dollars. “This is paid for reviews. This is a slow month, but I’m not concerned. I have a job and the Stevie money in the account.” She then puts her laptop in her bag and shoves it under her seat.

  I put my seat up and ask, “Where does your aunt work?”

  “She works the online business and helps with Noah so that I can do the things she doesn’t understand.”

  “Not a bad gig, Sonya. Two grand is nothing to complain about.”

  “The mortgage is five.”

  “Five grand? That’s a shit-ton of money.”

  “It’s a big house.”

  “But it was paid off.”

  She holds up her hand. “Five teenagers and a lot of medical bills.”

  “And you carry that burden and raise your boy?”

  “She helps.”

  I shut my mouth and then I can’t. “When I was a teenager, I slung newspapers and rode my bike into town to shovel sidewalks when I was hungry.”

  “You were hungry?” she asks in a voice that tells me she feels sorry for me.

  “No, I worked.”

  This time, it’s her turn to reach over and hold my hand, and it feels good.

  ***

  When we get to the hotel in Orlando, it’s late, really late. I know she slept for shit last night, so tonight, I have to let her sleep, but tomorrow, I have other plans.

  This stay is longer, so I manipulate like a motherfucker to get us adjoining rooms again.

  I watch her walk in her room and then go into mine. I set my bags down and decide to shower. After I’m done, I walk out and am starting to go through my bags to find a brush when I hear a knock on the door between our rooms.

  I grab the towel off the floor and wrap it around my waist, open the door, and she’s standing in a towel.

  “You need some sugar, neighbor?” I ask, stepping back so she can come get some.

  My dick is immediately hard as she walks by.

  “Did the bell boy bring my bags in here?”

  “Not yet. I have my bag if you need something for now.”

  She looks back at me, then glances down and quickly away.

  “Yaya, there is no way in hell you missed that, so let’s not pretend I’m standing here limp or that you’re gonna get a stitch of clothes.”

  “I’m tired.” She walks around, looking for something. “I hope they didn’t lose my luggage.”

  “It’s not here.”

  She blows out a long breath, then yawns.

  I walk over and turn down the bed. “Sleep with me?”

  She nods.

  “I’m gonna make damn sure you sleep tonight,” I say as I climb in bed behind her. “In the morning, I’m gonna make damn sure you’re feeling me well into the next day. Then, I’m gonna do it again.”

  She rolls to her side and backs her little towel-clad ass against me. Then I roll facing her back and start to push my arm under hers. When she lifts it, I wrap my arm around her and pull her back against me.

  “Goodnight, Finn.”

  “Not bad at all.”

  ***

  I wake to her voice, and although the curtains are drawn, I can see slivers of the hot Florida sun.

  I get up and walk into the bathroom, where she is looking in the mirror.

  “Good morning,” I say before kissing the back of her head.

  “It is now.” She smiles at me through the mirror’s reflection.

  Her phone rings and she grabs it up. “I saw two missed calls and tried to call you back. Is everything okay?”

  I rest my chin on her shoulder, and she rests her head against my cheek.

  I hear a woman on the other end say, “Noah needs to go in for a treatment. When we get back, I’ll call and let you know how it goes.”

  “How is he?” she asks in obvious concern.

  “He’s running a low grade fever, and his breathing is labored. I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’ll catch a flight. There’s enough money in the household account, isn’t there?” she asks.

  “I don’t know, but it’s not necessary. I will call you after we see a doctor.”

  “Aunt Margie, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” She hangs up the phone and looks at me.

  “I’ll call the front desk about your luggage.”

  After wrapping the sheet around me, I search the web for flight information. I can’t stay holed up in a hotel when Noah is sick. What was I thinking leaving him for this long?

  I find a flight from Orlando to Columbus that departs in four hours. Nine hundred dollars. That’s a lot of money, a lot, but I can do it. I know the money is there.

  I grab my hair and take a deep breath, knowing I need to call Taelyn. I hit her number on my contact list, and she answers on the second ring.

  “Sorry to bother you, but … well …” Frustration beckons tears, and the fear of losing my job drags them out. “I was wondering if it would be all right to go home for a couple days. My son is sick, and—”

  “Of course. Family first, Sonya, always,” she says with the utmost sincerity in her voice.

  “You’re sure? Because I really need this job,” I reply.

  “Nothing is scheduled for the next three days. Just spreading the word about the open auditions. I am sure Tally can handle it. Go, get home.” She is almost insistent.

  “Thank you so much,” I say as I wipe the tears from my face. “Taelyn, I want you to know I am sincerely sorry about how I came to get this job, but I want you to know I am so grateful for the opportunity.”

  “Well,” she whispers, “I am sure Xavier hired you because of his concern for Memphis and the band, but I pushed it because I had a feeling about you. You are an asset to this team. Now get off the phone and book your flight. If you need to use the corporate card, feel free.”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure I still have enough money. Taelyn, thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  I click on the flight as I walk through the room’s adjoining door to grab my purse. I take out the debit card and sit on the bed, beginning to type in my information. I wait for the server to process and am stunned when it comes back purchase denied.

  “Must be a mistake,” I think out loud, then type it in again and again and again.

  I click on my online banking information and log in, and the account shows four hundred dollars. I click through the transaction information and see that money, a lot of money, has been transferred into different accounts, none familiar. However, the situation is.

  “I can’t believe this,” I whisper.

  “Everything okay?” Finn asks as he pulls my bags in my room.

  I nod and go back to try to find a cheaper flight. There’s nothing today, nothing tomorrow, and nothing I can afford for another two weeks.

  I stand up, needing to have a moment alone. I don’t need an audience when I break down, especially not Finn. I need to think. I need to get home. This whole thing was a bad idea.

  When Noah was a baby, showers renewed me when I was frustrated. They became my escape from the crying. They washed away the spit up that comes more often from a baby with reflux. They soothed my sore breasts and allowed me to let go of my emotions without anyone seeing me break.

  Needing that same release, I strip down and get in, crying in anger, in frustration, and in self-doubt. Why did I need this job so badly? I had everything I needed, more than some people. I was a survivor in more ways than one.

  I will get a bus ticket to get home. Then I wi
ll take more classes online so that, when Noah is in school full-time, I can maybe teach or assistant teach while working the online business.

  Having a plan kicks my survivor’s instinct into overdrive.

  I get out, throw my hair into a towel, and put on the hotel robe. Then I walk out into the room where Finn is showered and dressed.

  I look at the bed where a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved, light blouse lay next to my white panties and matching bra.

  “Get dressed, Sonya. You have a flight to catch.”

  I look back at the bra and panties and my face burns.

  He smirks. “When you have your boy all set, as your friend, I need to take you shopping. A body like yours should not be covered by panties like that.”

  “I have nice ones,” I say defensively.

  “I’m well aware. I have taken them off you. But these,” he says, reaching down and picking them up, letting them dangle from his fingers, “need to go.”

  I snatch them up and then turn, putting me feet in them and pulling them up.

  “Yaya, turn around. I need to see.” The humor he finds is evident in his voice.

  “Not a chance,” I grumble, grabbing for my leggings.

  When he grabs my arm and spins me around, I swat at his hand and he laughs.

  “Well, I’ll be.”

  “Stop picking on my panties, Finn Beckett.” I try not to laugh.

  “Amazing.”

  I pull my hand away and step into the leggings. “What’s amazing? That you ever thought you wanted me when I—”

  “No, you somehow make white, cotton briefs look hot.”

  “Now you’re okay with them?” I say, pulling my shirt over my head.

  “Not just okay with ’em, I’m a fucking fan.”

  I catch myself laughing and then shake my head. “I don’t know how you can make me laugh right now.” I pull the shirt down and grab my bra. I clasp it in front of me, twist it around, and pull my arms back in my shirtsleeves.

  “We’re friends. Friends do stuff like that.”

  “I never had many.” I stop myself. “Well, in school I did, but that’s because everyone knew my mother had money.”

  “I have money; is that why we’re friends?”

  “Of course not.” I take the towel off my head and run it over my wet hair.

  “I’m sure your friends didn’t like you because of your family’s money.”

  “Well, they sure as hell disappeared after Noah was born,” I comment as I walk the towel into the bathroom.

  When I come out, he is sitting on the bed. I grab my phone and see a text alert from Delta.

  Your flight is on time. Please arrive ninety minutes before departure to ensure enough time for security check.

  I hear another message alarm. It’s Zeppelin’s “Black Dog.” I look over at him to see he is looking at his phone.

  “I need to go pack an overnight bag. I thought I’d go visit my old man for a couple days.” He winks.

  “In Ohio.” I don’t ask. I know the answer.

  His eyes are sparkling as he nods, turns around, and walks into his room.

  I get up and follow him. “You bought me a ticket?”

  With his back still to me, he shrugs. If he wasn’t so very handsome, beautiful, thoughtful, and desired by me, I would throw a big fit. He’s lucky I’m just planning a little one.

  “You can’t do that,” I say with conviction. “I was planning to take a bus. I would have figured it out. You—” When he turns and looks at me, I immediately stop.

  “I can and I did.”

  “I’m paying you back every cent. I am—”

  “Damn straight you are,” he says, looking me up and down, making me warm and fuzzy all over. “I was thinking Mile High Club.”

  “That’s sex on a plane,” I say flatly.

  His smile grows. “That is correct.”

  “So you bought me a ticket so you could what? Check something off a bucket list?”

  “While the check mark on the Beckett list is a bonus for sure, I bought a ticket ’cause you apparently thought you had the funds and didn’t. That’s what a friend would do. It’s also something a selfish prick who hates to fly except when he’s next to you would do if he thought he might need to visit his old man for the first time in a couple years. It’s a win-win, Yaya.”

  “I’m paying you back in cash,” I say sternly.

  “How about you use the cash to buy some new, sexy panties and call it even?”

  ***

  As we’re sitting at Orlando International, waiting to board, Finn’s knee starts to bounce.

  I look over at him. “You okay?”

  He nods once and stands. “Not used to sitting around.” He stretches, his shirt lifting slightly and exposing his little trail of hair.

  I look up at him, and he sighs, pushing his Henley sleeves up. Then he leans down, placing one hand on each arm of the chair.

  “You can’t get enough of me.”

  “I so can—”

  “Not.” He grabs the back of my head and pulls it forward, kissing the top of my head. “It’s cool, Yaya. I feel the same way.” He straightens and stretches one more time, this time exaggerating it a bit, and then grins at me before plopping down next to me again, linking his hands behind his head.

  “I despise waiting, too,” I say.

  He looks over at me. “You’ll be there soon.”

  Our flight is called, and we find ourselves in the very back of the plane.

  “Did you do this because you knew it was closest to the bathroom?” I ask, moving into the window seat as he puts my bag and then his in the overhead compartment.

  “Safest seats on a plane,” he says seriously as he closes the overhead compartment.

  I pat the seat next to me when he remains standing. He runs his hands through his silky, dark hair and then sits. He rests his elbows on his knees, leans forward, and looks at me.

  “Yaya, you are stunning, but you look tired. You should try to sleep. You’re gonna be a busy mom in a few hours.”

  “But who will feed you Blow Pops and hold your hand?”

  “I’ll be fine.” He lifts the armrest that divides our seats.

  “You sure?” I ask as I yawn. I am clearly in need of sleep, but apparently … stunning. I smile at the thought of him saying that word to describe me.

  Later, I wake up feeling warm and content with my head on his lap. I look up and he looks down at me with a Blow Pop stick hanging out of his mouth. He pulls it out and licks his lips.

  “Still got about an hour. Go back to sleep.”

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “No,” he says in that deep rasp that sends shivers … everywhere.

  He pushes my hair away from my face, and then his thumb strokes my lower lip. Instinctively, I stroke it with my tongue, and his eyes widen and nostrils flare. I do it again, this time slower, and I feel him plump against my cheek. He pushes his thumb just between my lips, and I wrap them around it and suck lightly.

  “Jesus,” he groans as his hips gyrate.

  I pull my head back off his bulging erection and hook my thumb into his waistband.

  “Don’t tease me, Yaya.”

  I work my thumb to unbutton the top button of his pants and feel the smooth, silky head of his erection.

  “You’re playing with me,” he hisses.

  “Want me to stop?” I ask in a voice I don’t even recognize.

  “No, dammit,” he says, quickly unzipping his pants and un-tucking his shirt.

  I glance across the aisle toward the bathroom door.

  “Someone comes down this aisle, and you better fake being asleep. Until then, don’t you fucking stop.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He grabs my sweater off the back of my seat and uses it as a semi-shield, blocking what is going on in row thirty-four of Delta airlines flight 7299.

  I watch him as I taste his delicious, hot skin. His eyes are on fire, his
nostrils flaring, his jaw tense, and the muscles in it bulge.

  I suck just the tip, and he bites his lower lips as his eyes roll. My tongue circles his head, and his body tenses.

  “Don’t fucking stop,” he hisses. “Please,” he grunts.

  I taste a salty, sticky mixture as I swipe my tongue across his head again and suck harder, hollowing my cheeks.

  “Two seconds,” he grunts as his hips thrust forward. “I’m warning you.”

  I suck harder and use my hand to pump his exposed, delicious cock faster.

  “Fuck.” He grits his teeth.

  I pump faster and tighten my grip. I suck harder and lower.

  “Ten,” he hisses, pushing his hand between us and squeezing my nipple hard.

  I take him in fully, and his head falls back against the headrest.

  “Nine,” he hisses. “Fucking nine.”

  I stroke him and suck him, and he opens his mouth then snaps it shut, eyes hooded.

  “Eight,” he groans.

  I do it again.

  “Seven. Fucking seven,” he grunts, thrusting forward.

  I take him in farther and flatten my tongue down the underside.

  “Six, fuck,” he groans.

  I do it again.

  “Five. Fuck, Sonya.”

  I move my head up and down, my mouth watering.

  “Four.”

  I look up and moan.

  “Three.”

  I move to his tip, licking circles around it.

  “Two. Last chance.”

  I do it again.

  “One,” he hisses.

  I pump him while watching his now clear, black, and hooded eyes shine with nothing but raw need.

  “I’m there,” he growls, then thrusts as his hot liquid fills my mouth in not one, not two, but three jerks of his hot and delicious come.

  He pants as he rests his head against the headrest and pets my hair slowly and adoringly. He then looks down, still fighting to catch his breath, and his eyes narrow as he shakes his head then groans.

  “Swear to God,” he says, “I thought you were trying to kill me.” He smirks and his head falls back again.

  I sit up and tuck him away. I even zip and button his jeans. Smiling inside, I giggle quietly.