Chapter 24
An experiment. That’s what this was supposed to be.
I blame Brielle for this ridiculous idea.
Finn could never, ever be an experiment for me. Not in the way I need him to be right now.
He runs his hands over me like he knows every single pleasure point on my body.
The euphoria that pumps through my veins could never be disguised as anything else.
I’m helpless to reciprocate, unable to keep my palms from gliding up beneath his thin T-shirt and over the defined ridges of his toned stomach.
I count each one before expanding my exploration out to his shoulders and the round, bulging biceps I’ve caught myself staring at more times than I will ever admit to anyone, let alone him.
His fingers dig into the meat of my thighs, and I take that as a good sign. Each word he spoke repeats in my mind, trying to convince me that he’s as into this as I am, but after so long . . . it’s hard to believe that. The change is new, but not sudden. At least not to me.
Brielle wasn’t exactly right when she said all friendships like ours turn out like this, but maybe I’ve been so damn na?ve, so blind, that I didn’t see the signs as they were flashing.
Or I could be confused. Either way, this is what we need.
I need this right here more than I’ve needed much of anything else in the last few months. Maybe even the last year.
“Can I try something?” he asks, his gravelly tone doing more to convince me how much he likes this than anything he could have said.
“Yes.”
I barely have a chance to stabilize myself when he uses his hold on me to jerk me forward.
Our middles connect, and my lips part around a jagged breath when I feel the shape of him beneath me, already hard and thick.
My eyes latch onto his, and I force them to stay open when the pressure shifts when he rolls his hips upward against me.
“Fuck,” he groans, bringing a hand to the back of my head, then to my nape, squeezing. “How’s that?”
My heart thrashes as I use my hold on his shoulders to press forward, applying more pressure to the bulge digging into me.
The juvenile movement sends heat piercing through my stomach, coiling low as my core clenches.
My panties grow damp and sticky as I exhale, hovering my lips over his, close enough to taste him without closing the gap completely.
“Tell me, Bree. Does it feel as good to you as it does to me?”
I rock back, then forth, forcing my robe to rise further up my body. It bunches at my hips, exposing my ass in my thin panties. The fabric covering my pussy does nothing to hide how I’m feeling from him, but he doesn’t call me out on the wet spot or the heat that must be soaking into his jeans.
“Better, maybe,” I whisper.
His chuckle is rough, almost dark. “I doubt that.”
He uses his grip on my nape to urge me closer so he can take my mouth in a hard, desperate kiss. The noise that escapes me is so close to a whine I’d be embarrassed if I were with anyone else. Finn’s responding moan makes it too hard to think about anything besides moving my hips.
My clit feels swollen, almost sensitive to the point of pain as I move over him, rubbing against the bulge that’s grown beneath me. I chase the pleasure expanding inside of me, too far into its clutches to think again about what happens after this, once the haze has drifted.
On my next backward glide, I drop my hands between us and loop a finger beneath the waistband of his jeans, gasping in a breath when our lips part.
“I need . . . Can I—”
“Please,” Finn replies without waiting.
I pop the button open and tug at the zipper before stalling, my fingers almost shaking with nerves.
It’s like being a teenager again and kissing a boy from the football team in the back seat of his car for the first time.
My stomach shrinks around the large battering wings inside of it as I open my eyes, focusing on the bright blue ones in front of me.
“Do whatever you want with me, Aubrey. I’ll beg if you need me to. Just don’t stop now. Not yet.”
“If we go too far, we won’t be able to find the way back,” I whisper, already shimmying his jeans down.
“Then we’ll only take a few more steps.”
It’s enough for me.
Finn lifts his hips off the couch, and I pull his jeans down just past his underwear.
The tight, black briefs that were beneath them are now the only other barrier left to keep us from jumping into the deep end.
I move forward, curving my hand around the side of his neck, needing to keep myself in check as I use the other to hold his shoulder again.
I keep both hands above his waist, where they need to stay.
He slides the hand on my thigh around to cup my ass, then bunches my panties in his fist, forcing them to stretch against my pussy.
With a roughness I’m not familiar with seeing from him, he’s the one who takes that next step.
With only our underwear between us, he moves me directly on top of his crotch.
“Finn,” I warn, too breathy for him to take me seriously.
He soothes me with his mouth on mine, chasing away the worry and hesitation with warmth and bliss.
I lean into his chest, the tension draining from my muscles as I press down, feeling the shape of him firmly against my pussy.
The length doesn’t surprise me, but the girth .
. . I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared.
I’m so wet that I know he’s feeling it once I drag myself over him, applying pressure to where I’m the most sensitive.
His fingers twitch where they’re holding me, and he teases my tongue with his, groaning softly. His cock throbs, and there’s no telling if all the dampness I feel is from me or him, too.
“Don’t stop,” he orders gruffly, guiding me now, using his hold on my ass to drag me where he wants. “Please.”
I’m the one panting despite him taking over the movements.
He has a hand on my waist now, using the grip to set the pace while his hips jerk in time.
I glance down when my robe finally falls open, parting as the tie loosens completely.
My lack of bra didn’t register to me earlier, but now .
. . Now it’s hard to think of anything but the fact that Finn can see my entire tit.
His gaze drops immediately, those glittering eyes seeking my bare chest. We don’t stop moving, even as he slowly glides his hand to my stomach and then up to my sternum.
He pushes, and I arch backward, gripping his forearm.
I shiver when his nails drift over my collarbone, teasing before pinching my robe and bringing it down my arm.
It pools at my elbow, and I suck my lip into my mouth to stifle the whine that wants to escape when he leans forward and brings his mouth to the curve of my breast.
“You have a beautiful body, Aubrey,” he murmurs, lightly sucking on the pale skin.
I laugh, but it’s shaky and quiet. “You’re just saying that because you have my entire boob in your mouth.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”
His tongue paints a wet line just above my nipple, and I jerk, nearly panting. Goosebumps cover my entire body, betraying my desire, my throbbing need for him. It’s overwhelming, the pull I’m feeling right now, like if he were to stop right now, I’d be devastated.
Heat scatters across my chest as he pulls back only to lower his head further and close his soft lips around my stiff nipple.
He presses his tongue flat to the peak before he sucks, drawing on it so hard that the pleasure shoots down to my centre, making me seep into my panties.
I clutch the back of his head, my fingers curving into his hair as I keep him in place, my hips moving on their own.
Soft sounds breach my lips and drop between us as I curl toward him and urge him back against the couch.
He doesn’t release my nipple until he swaps to the other, repeating the motions of shoving my robe out of the way before pulling it into his mouth.
The low growl in his chest fuels my movements just as wickedly as his lips and tongue do.
“Finn—I’m . . .” I trail off when he bucks up beneath me, stealing my words.
I claw at his hair, tugging and scraping his scalp as I move against him, chasing the promise of release that’s been so unfulfilling for so long.
My muscles tighten as I shiver, closing my eyes as I feel it expand in my belly.
I’m soaking his briefs, and there’s something about knowing I’m leaving my mark on him somewhere that only intensifies the pleasure I’m feeling.
Like a moth to a flame, I barrel toward what I know is going to change everything.
With a wet noise, he releases my nipple and drags his mouth up my chest and neck before grazing his teeth along my jaw.
“I know, sweetheart. You’re going to come for me, and you’re going to do it where I can feel it happen.
Where you’ll moan against my lips and get me nice and wet. More than you already have.”
His cock throbs again, harder this time as I buck against it, my clit rubbing just right.
Calloused fingers pinch my nipple, finding it still wet as he twists and tugs.
The dual sensation is too much. I lose my rhythm, and he takes over again, his fingers pressing so deep he might leave marks on my skin.
“That’s it. Use me, Bree. Use my cock like it belongs to you. You’re doing so well. Riding me like you’ve been doing it for years. Just a little more.”
His praise is gasoline on a bonfire. I go up in flames so bright and out of control that it should scare me. One second, I’m in his arms on his lap, and the next, I’m somewhere else. Heat and pleasure blur as I come, my hearing fading from the strength of my orgasm.
I fall back into my body a beat later, gasping as I tremble, my fingers still buried deep in his hair.
Low, ruined groans fill the air, stroking the lingering pleasure sparking out inside of me.
Finn’s mouth is open against my throat, and he’s jerking beneath me, warmth pooling in his briefs.
He’s breathing heavily over my skin, and I grin hopelessly, hiding it in his hair.
“You’re happy,” he breathes out, knowing without needing to see me.
I hesitate to reply, waiting for the regret to sink in.
For the immediate guilt of what we’ve done—what we’ve risked—to have me pulling away and hiding.
But the seconds pass, and all I feel is .
. . happy. Relaxed, even, in a way I haven’t since before I started law school and realized that my life was going to be driven by my career for as long as possible.
Being successful is all that I’ve wanted from the time I was old enough to realize that being a woman meant needing to work three times as hard as any man I’ve ever met would.
I strive to be the most intimidating person in every room I step into, and that means sacrificing a love life and any new friendships in order to accomplish that goal.
But right now . . . work is the last thing on my mind. I don’t care about my cases or accomplishments.
Finn’s here, and this is nice. It’s calm and quiet and inviting. There’s no regret or guilt like I feared there would be. Instead, I’m at peace.
I flatten my hand against his head, burying it in his hair as I say, “Yeah, I’m happy.”