Confection
CONFECTION
Rose
“Well?” Fionn asks as I enter the RV and plop myself down on the small couch across from the dining table. He sets a pile of black yarn aside and regards me with a worried sweep of his gaze. “What did José say?”
“The police are treating it as an accident, apparently. There’s nothing really to say otherwise. Chad’s kind of known for being a local piece of shit and has an arrest record as long as my leg, so something makes me think they’re not going to look too hard once they find a shit ton of drugs in his system.” I sigh and rap my fingers across the surface of the table. “We won’t open this weekend. So, I guess I have a few more days off. Maybe not the worst timing.”
Fionn simply nods in reply and watches as I blow out a long breath. It’s been four days since the Chad incident, and though it seems like everything is going to be fine, it still feels as though a turbine has lodged itself in my chest, like the blades keep spinning in the wind but the energy has nowhere to go. Part of it might be nerves, sure. Anxiety for the unknown. The risk of getting caught. But another part of it is sheer excitement. The residual thrill. Getting away with something bad but so very, very good. And it unleashes all kinds of dark and dangerous magic in me.
“Everything all right with you?” he finally asks, and I realize I’ve been smiling to myself, probably a grin that seems diabolical. Though, judging by the way Fionn narrows his eyes and watches me, I don’t think he minds.
“Yeah. I um … just …”
“Have an itch that needs to be scratched?”
I snort a laugh. He’s still trying to bite down on a smirk, but he can’t help but let it curl one corner of his lips. It’s so fucking sexy that my core twists with immediate need. “That sounds so wrong, given the circumstances.” Fionn’s head tilts as he tries to decipher my meaning. I wave his confusion off with a flap of my hand. “Speaking of which, is that my sex swing you’re working on?” I ask with a nod to the yarn sitting on the table.
“Maybe. Thought it should be a high-priority project.”
“Yeah …” I say, letting the word linger as my imagination takes me to all sorts of scenarios, all of which involve Fionn and Tencel bamboo yarn.
“You sure you’re okay?” Fionn asks. His eyes narrow in an assessing gaze, but I can see a hint of amusement in their depths.
I clear my throat and shrug. “Just pent-up energy.”
“Maybe you should set up the treadmill.”
“Actually,” I say, uncrossing and recrossing my legs, a motion Fionn’s eyes snap to, “I was thinking a run outside might be a good idea.”
“Okay … Want me to join you?”
“Yes and no.” I get up again, and I feel the confusion in his gaze linger on me as I pull off my long-sleeve top, leaving my tank top behind. My weight shifts from side to side, my muscles already tense with anticipation. “I, um … didn’t get to say thank you after you helped with all that whole … impaling situation.”
Fionn’s brow furrows and he lifts a shoulder. He’s trying to look nonchalant about it, as nonchalant as he can, I guess. “It’s okay.”
“I mean, I wanted to thank you thank you.”
I can see the exact moment my words assemble themselves in his brain. Fionn’s eyes darken and fix to mine. His muscles tense. His pulse pounds in his neck. He starts rising from his seat, but I hold up a hand to stop him.
“Hold up there, Doc. I didn’t say I would make it easy on you. This is a circus, after all. I thought we should have a little fun. And trust me when I say it’s something you’ll enjoy. You’ve even said so before.” A lazy grin creeps across my face. I take my time. Examine my chipped nail polish. Blow out a long, long, long breath. My gaze flows up the length of his body, from his socked feet to the jeans that hug the curve of dense muscle in his thighs, to his tapered waist, to his biceps that seem to challenge the hem of his shirt, to his neck that shifts with a swallow, and finally his eyes. Those eyes that are nearly black, locked to me as if soldered to my face.
I saunter one step closer.
“Close your eyes,” I whisper.
Reluctantly, he does.
“No peeking.”
He crisscrosses his heart. I snort a laugh, and he grins.
“You’re not so innocent, but nice try.”
“I swear. Doctors never lie.”
“Sure. Well, use that big doctor brain of yours and count to thirty for me, and then open them.” One of his eyes cracks open as he gives me a scrutinous look. “What did I literally just say?”
“Okay, okay,” he concedes, raising his hands in defeat. “One … two … three—”
“Slower.”
“Four …” The pause lengthens and I creep backward toward the door. “Five …” I sneak down the steps and silently slip outside the motor home. “Six,” he says as I close the door.
And then I take off running.
I head past the motor homes and the closed game stands and silent amusement rides, darting toward the left, where I can pause behind a building and watch Dorothy. Sure enough, Fionn comes out far before the count of thirty must be up. His head swivels each way and then he looks down toward his feet. He must pick up enough of my tracks in the dust gathered on the worn path, because he starts walking in my direction. “Fucking cheater,” I whisper through my wicked smile before I back away into the shadows.
There are a handful of workers out and about today, either tightening up rides or restocking games with fresh prizes in preparation for our postponed next show. They hardly pay me any attention as I sneak through the grounds and backtrack so I can align with Fionn as he progresses down one of the aisles between game stands. I follow him for a distance, and when he seems to stall and his attention is caught in the wrong direction, I sneak up from behind and grab his hand.
“What in the Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” he says, his accent heavier in his moment of surprise. “Does this mean I win?”
“ Fuck no.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Toying with you.”
“And what about this ,” he says as he raises our interlaced fingers. “You’re breaking some rules here. We’re technically in public. And this is holding hands.”
“Oh is it?” I bat my lashes at him, and he gives me a flat glare in reply. “Are you going to punish me?”
Desire flares in his eyes, a pool of black ink that consumes the vibrant blue. “Yes.”
My smile stretches so wide that my cheeks ache. I give him a pat on the chest. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
Before I’ve even finished my sentence, I’ve ripped my hand from his and pivoted in the direction of the concession stands. I know he’s right on my heels. I can hear his rapid footfalls. I can feel the weight of the hunt on me. The way his gaze lies heavily on my back.
But he doesn’t know this place like I do.
I know every twist and turn. Every hidden door. Every little cubbyhole and safe place to find refuge. So when I gain enough ground in the network of structures, I duck into the storage hatch at the back of the hot dog stand and try to quiet my rapid breathing, clamping a hand across my mouth to stop the laughter that begs to be set free. I hear Fionn run past my hiding place and then I lose all sense of sound except the heartbeat that roars in my ears. When it finally calms, I crawl out of my cramped little cage.
I creep along slowly, crouching low to the ground. Listening. Stopping. Starting again, just a few steps at a time. But no matter how many times I wait and listen, nothing comes. There’s no sign of Fionn when I peer between the stands. No clues on the wind, no sounds in the air.
Doubt claws its way into my mind. He probably gave up. Or maybe he’s irritated that yet another one of our rules has been broken. I bet he went back to Dorothy. I can almost see him setting up my treadmill to run a four-minute mile and then plop down on my couch with some trail mix and a disgusting vegetable smoothie while he crochets a runner for my folding table and watches some Surviving Love on his iPad. I don’t know why I find all of that fucking adorable. Green juice should not be adorable, considering it tastes like licking the trampled grass of a fairground. Not that I’ve ever done that before when I’ve lost a bet to Baz or anything.
My head swimming with doubts, I take one last spin to assess my silent surroundings, and then I straighten, smoothing a hand over my jeans. I blow a long sigh toward my bangs and then with slow and careful steps, I start walking back in the direction of the games.
I don’t make it more than a dozen strides before a weight barrels into me. A steel band clamps across my waist. A palm traps a startled cry in my mouth. I’m lifted from the ground and in a twist and turn of motion, I’m dragged into the dim light of a closed concession stand.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”
Every exhalation he breathes tickles the hairs at the back of my neck. My heart rate spikes. I whimper, but the sound is lost to the palm that covers my lips. He kicks the door closed behind him, throwing us into shadow.
“So,” Fionn says, that one word hanging in the air with so much sharp and steady certainty that it could cut through it. He sets me down and walks us to the counter to press my hips against it, his erection hard against my ass. My belly clenches, a dull ache of need that demands his touch. “Why don’t you show me what I’ve won?”
His palm is still clamped to my mouth, my unsteady exhalations spilling over the edge of his hand. His lips graze the shell of my ear and my eyes drift closed. His whisper is an intoxicating mix of sweetness and menace when he says, “You said you had a surprise for me if I caught you. I’m dying to know what it is.”
God, I could live in this moment of anticipation forever. This moment when desire burns so bright that it could incinerate every rule and condition, if we just added a splash more gasoline to the fire. In this moment, there is no aftermath, no coming back to our senses. The only way out is to give in. Fuck the consequences.
Fionn takes his time to release each finger before he lifts his palm away. “Show. Me.”
My heart climbs into my throat and lodges there. I toe off my shoes and, with one hand, undo the button of my jeans. I take my time with the zipper, willing myself not to rush. When it’s finally at the last tooth, I slide the jeans and my panties over my hips, stepping out of them when they land at my feet. “Check your pockets,” I whisper before he can figure it out.
Fionn keeps one hand braced on the counter to cage me in, and with the other he pats down his jeans. A low hmm resonates against my back as he brings a small bottle into view. A low chuckle escapes. “Bone yard snake oil cum lube,” he says as he reads the label. “I have to admit, I like the doctor theme.”
And then he goes still behind me. I bite down on a wicked grin as he sets the bottle on the counter and takes a step back. His hands grip my ass cheeks and separate them.
I twinkle my fingers in jazz hands. “Surprise.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Rose,” he says. I turn enough so I can see his face over my shoulder. His eyes don’t shift away from what I know he’s staring at—the multicolored handle of the Tutti Frutti vibrating butt plug lodged deep in my ass.
“I went with the circus theme too. Well, as close as I could get, anyway,” I say. A hard swallow shifts in Fionn’s throat before his gaze returns to mine. His eyes are nearly black, his pupils blown. “You seemed to be very interested in the ass-fucking idea when I said that I promised it to Chad. So, I took a bet that a little bit of anal might also be one of your things. If I’m wrong though—”
Fionn presses me into the counter, grinding his hips against me. His hard length pushes against the handle of the toy. “Trust me. It’s my fucking thing.”
With another roll of his hips, he steps back again, then grasps the handle. My pussy clenches. My clit throbs, begging for relief. My core burns with need and I want to beg him to turn on the vibration, but I stop myself. I want him to let himself out to play on his own terms.
And play he does.
He pulls the long, curved handle, sliding the toy out of my ass just a few inches before he pushes it back in again. Out and in. Out and in. With his free hand, he pushes my body down until it’s flush with the counter and caresses my back. I brace my forehead on my folded arms and breathe through my increasing desperation to be fucked. The slow thrusts continue and I feel the heat of my arousal on my inner thighs. I moan as he pushes the toy in as deep it will go, and then, so slowly I nearly beg, he pulls it free.
“Stay there,” he says. “Don’t move.”
I shift just enough to watch as he takes the toy over to the sink and washes it with soap and water, patting it dry with paper towels when it’s thoroughly clean. He turns to face me when he’s done.
“I’m going to need you to hold on to this because once I’ve filled your ass with cum, that’s going back in. So open wide.”
Though I fucking love the idea of everything he said until the open wide part, my nose scrunches. I’m not opposed, but I’m unsure. But then inspiration strikes. I know exactly what will make this appetizing. My eyes dart to farther down the counter and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Fionn. He chuckles as he spots what I’m looking at: the cotton candy machine.
“Okay,” he says. “How does it work?”
“Switch it on, and then turn the volt knob all the way to the right.” He does. The motor starts up and whirs as the heater in the center of the machine spins. “Get the sugar from the tub under there,” I say, nodding to the shelves next to him.
“What color?”
“Surprise me.”
Fionn gives me a dark grin as he pulls out the tub of pink sugar. He follows my instructions to get a scoop ready and when a minute or two passes, I tell him to turn the machine off and pour the sugar into the heater at the center of the drum. “Now turn it back on and catch the cotton candy,” I say. We laugh as he uses the toy to catch the floss as it flows from the heater. I teach him how to spin the plug to catch the spun sugar in a ball. He probably gets half of it wound around his hand. But he grins, his face lit with a wide, uninhibited smile while he swirls more and more sugar around the toy until it runs out and he turns off the machine. When he’s done, the Tutti Frutti butt plug is covered with a mound of pink candy floss.
“How about now?” he asks.
I open my mouth and he smiles.
He slides the candy-covered plug into my mouth and the burst of sweetness floods my tongue. My eyes flutter closed, and when they open, he’s watching me, his expression ravenous. I slide the toy from my mouth slowly and gesture toward him with it, the colorful silicon now covered in dissolving pink sugar. “I’ve never been fucked in the ass while eating cotton candy before. This is like every circus girl’s dream.”
Fionn passes me the extra mound of pink floss gathered in his hand and then steps behind me, loosening his belt. “Is it?”
“No. Probably just mine.”
“I’ve never fucked a woman in the ass while she’s eating cotton candy before either,” he says as he pops the cap of the bottle of lube and drizzles the cool, viscous liquid down the crack of my ass. “So I guess we’re even.”
I wink at him over my shoulder and make a show of running the sugar-coated toy down the length of my tongue before I face forward. Anticipation in my veins is an electric hum. The sweetness in my mouth is the perfect accompaniment to his erection as he drags the tip through the lube, coating his cock. He’s savoring every moment. He circles my pleated hole in a tease and then slides up the crack of my ass, then back down again, repeating the motion, taking his time. His hand caresses my arm in a wordless request to add more of the extra sugar to the toy, and I do. The tip of his cock presses to my hole in a slow pulse as I pull a section of cotton candy free and wind it around the body of the toy. And as I slide it back into my mouth, he pushes his way inside, slipping the tip of his erection past the tight ring of muscle.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hisses, pausing with just the crown of his cock lodged in my ass. I’m already panting heavy breaths, desperate for more. “This tight little ass is fucking heaven, Rose.” He pushes in an inch deeper and I moan. “Tell me what you want.”
He slides back until he’s free and I whimper. A dark chuckle escapes him and I swear that my blood is replaced with lava. He presses to my ass again and slides in deeper, my body shuddering. I pull the toy from my mouth. “For you to fuck me the way I know you want to without worrying about what will happen next.”
Fionn pauses. I glance over my shoulder and meet his eyes. It’s as though the shell of him has cracked. And what’s behind those splinters and shards is ravenous. “If you want me to stop, tell me or tap on my arm,” he grits out. My reply is silence. I tear another piece of cotton candy free and wind it around the toy before I stick out my tongue and lay it on the surface. And then I turn on the vibration and face forward.
A deep growl fills our shadows and Fionn thrusts all the way in.
This. This is what I want. Deep, rocking strokes. My hips gripped in his hands. Fingerprints on my skin. He thrusts into me. Again. And again. Sliding out to the tip. Pushing all the way in. Fucking me without worrying about the consequences. What tomorrow will be like. What rules we might break. He picks up a pace. Faster. Harder. I pull the toy out of my mouth and moan as he pistons into me with merciless, feral need. The plug is still vibrating. I shimmy my hand between my body and the counter, its stainless steel edge biting into my forearm as I position the toy over my clit. My entire being seems to wind tighter, from my muscles to my veins to my mind. The orgasm builds in my core and I cry out, not thinking about where we are or who might hear us. Fionn’s hand folds around my mouth to trap the sound in his palm. And then he bites down on the juncture between my neck and shoulder and he drives into me, wild with need, mindless and desperate. Sparks invade my vision and I come hard, my lungs burning, every muscle tightening. My ass clenches around his length and Fionn roars my name. He pushes as deep as my body can take him, his length pulsing as he spills inside me, just like he promised.
His hands land on either side of my head while his thrusts slow. His arms tremble. And my body feels weightless, my bones liquid, my thoughts still and quiet in the haze that hums in my mind like static on a radio.
“Fucking hell, Rose,” Fionn says as he leans back. I still hear the unevenness in his breath. His body is fighting to recover. He starts to pull out, but he takes his time, and when I look back across my shoulder he’s watching the motion, taking in every inch as he slowly slides free. The moment the tip of his erection is free of my ass he’s taking the toy from me. He turns off the vibration. And then he positions it against my ass as I rasp out his name. “I told you I was going to fill you and put this back in,” he whispers as he slides it inside. I whimper, renewed need already building deep in my core. “You’re going to keep that cum where it belongs and I’m going to fuck you again when we get back to your RV. But in the meantime”—Fionn flips me over, landing my back on the counter and spreading my legs wide—“I’m going to make this pussy extra sweet.”
I watch, riveted, as Fionn tears off a piece of cotton candy and lays it on his tongue. He lowers himself to my clit. His eyes don’t leave mine as he passes a slow lick to my swollen bud of nerves.
I lay my hand over his where it’s splayed across my inner thigh. Our fingers lace and he squeezes my hand, not letting go. And it’s in this moment, with his eyes never straying from mine, this new wave of need building in my veins, that I know that when it comes to Fionn Kane, I will break every rule.
And for the first time, I let myself wonder if he might one day feel the same.