Chapter Ten #3
“And then she widened her legs and bent over and threw the ball two-handed like she was somebody’s grandma.” Robbie paused for effect. “She got a strike. Smile never left her face the rest of the night.”
Imogen and Sawyer looked expectantly at Finn, who rolled his eyes over a smile. “This is peer pressure.” He glanced at Robbie as if to say I know you just want to look at my ass. Which was not true. Robbie wanted to do way more than look at it.
“Boo,” Sawyer said. “Granny roll! Granny roll!”
Finally, with much heckling, Finn spread his legs, bent over, and swung the ball. It made an enormous thunk when it hit the wood, then slid neatly into the pins and took out all but one.
“Sick,” Sawyer said. “I’m trying it next.”
They all switched to the granny roll after that. They wouldn’t get any cool points, but they were bowling, so that was a given.
The kids inevitably turned their focus to snacks. Robbie, figuring the best way to keep their anonymity was to stay in their corner, handed his card and his order over to Sawyer.
“Get what you want. But there will be hell to pay if there’s no burger with curly fries and a slushie among the booty.”
“Cringe,” Sawyer said, almost absently, at Robbie’s phrasing. “What about you, Finn?”
“Oh, I can—”
“Nope. Papa Bear is paying today. He said so.” Sawyer grinned and Imogen giggled behind him. Finn shot a questioning look Robbie’s way, but Robbie just held up his hands.
“Who am I to argue with the kid? If he says I said today was on me, it must be the truth.”
“Well, in that case—a hot dog, all-dressed chips, and a root beer.”
“Got it.” Sawyer skipped off and Imogen hurried after.
“You do know they’re going to come back with, like, so much dessert, right?” Finn asked.
“Oh yeah, and we’ll either have to take half of it home or they’ll be sick. But today is about Sawyer, and who am I to ruin his fun with nutritional guidelines or fans spotting me in the concession line?”
Finn said nothing. Someone down the way rolled a strike, judging by the noise of the pins and the celebration. Robbie looked over. Finn was studying him, an undecipherable look in his eyes. Robbie couldn’t wait to know Finn well enough to be able to read his expressions.
“What?”
“You’re a good guardian, Papa Bear.”
Heat filled his cheeks. “I try.”
Finn hummed. Under cover of the low lights and the position of the chairs and the machinery, he slid his hand over Robbie’s and tangled their fingers together on the bench between their thighs. “I can see that.”
Monday eventually crawled around.
Robbie had spent the past few days ping-ponging between thinking about Finn, strategizing with his lawyer, and distracting his kid, so time should’ve flown. Somehow it hadn’t.
But it was Monday at last, which meant he had Tuesday to look forward to.
“Zeiger,” Chad said coolly as they all filed into the gym for the morning meeting that happened on show days. “You and your girlfriend ready to have your asses handed to you tonight?”
Robbie credited his high school drama classes for the fact that he didn’t break his stride.
There was no way Chad knew anything about Robbie’s “girlfriend.” He was just trying to get under Robbie’s skin and had accidentally landed on an interesting attempt at an insult.
“Didn’t I see you and Sophia fall in practice Friday?
” he said serenely. “I think me and my girlfriend can take you.”
On his other side, he just registered Finn making a choked-off noise. Hopefully Chad hadn’t heard it.
Apparently Chad hadn’t expected Robbie to bite back, because he stammered out a comeback. “Yeah, well… we’ll see who ends up on top this week.”
Robbie laughed in spite of himself. “Definitely me.”
Robbie might not be an expert in ice dancing, but even he could tell their tango was sizzling.
Finn started skating around Robbie, clearly the one holding out for the hero, before he invited Robbie to prove himself. Then followed two minutes of Robbie manhandling Finn to do just that.
He spun and dipped Finn down the ice, very aware of Finn’s body against his—the drag of Finn’s thigh down his hip, the press of Robbie’s hand to the small of his back to pull him closer.
Robbie wanted to eat him and he was pretty sure everyone could tell.
By the time Finn jumped onto Robbie’s thighs to show his trust in Robbie’s heroics, Robbie was all but panting. Thank God for dance belts, or Robbie would be coming out in an embarrassing fashion.
Finn leaned back as they spun, showing his trust in Robbie to hold him. Then he slipped from Robbie’s thighs into his embrace for the last tango across the ice, their bodies pressed together and their eyes locked.
The crowd loved it. Finn glowed as they took their bows.
They’d definitely nailed it.
The judges agreed.
Not that they didn’t get criticism—Robbie was too green for that—but the judges seemed just as pleased by their chemistry as the week prior.
Not even the sneering look of disgust from Chad could dampen Robbie’s high.
Back in the locker room, Robbie looked around and, sure that they were alone, planted a dirty, filthy kiss on Finn’s lipstick-red mouth.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got me so turned-on, I wish I could slide into you right now.”
Finn moaned, eyes and mouth open.
“Tomorrow,” Robbie added, a reminder for himself as much as a promise for Finn.
Right now, they had to get cleaned up to return to the stands. The perils of having your names drawn second on the bill, he guessed.
Shower now.
Then tomorrow… tomorrow.
By three o’clock Tuesday, Robbie had kicked off his shoes and was pacing the length of the hotel room.
The staff had followed his instructions—champagne, fruit, and chocolate sat out in chilled dishes, ready to be enjoyed at their leisure—but he stopped now and then to ensure everything was still perfect.
Robbie glanced at the clock. Five minutes past three. Was time crawling?
A knock on the door. Robbie almost lunged for it.
Finn stood on the other side, his hands stuffed in his pockets, bringing attention to his hips and the tightness of his jeans.
Dark-wash low-riding skinny jeans that were almost hanging off Finn’s hips, flashing a tantalizing glimpse of flesh between the jeans and the too-small white T-shirt he’d paired it with.
To finish the look of rent-boy chic was a black leather jacket and a single gold chain around his throat.
Fuuuuuck.
“Jesus, get in here, you little minx.”
Finn huffed a laugh and stepped forward, letting Robbie catch his hand and drag him into the room.
“You get dressed up for me, sweetie? Or are you dressed like this to attract the attention of any john?”
Finn’s lips parted and his eyes went dark. “Uh, just-just one.”
“Yeah?” Robbie couldn’t have stopped the grin if he tried. “You trying to catch my eye, babygirl?”
“Always.”
“Well, it worked. You’ve had my eye all week. I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”
“Like what?” Finn leaned into him, letting Robbie take his weight.
Robbie slid his hands around Finn’s waist, under the shirt, onto the small of his back.
“Like… play with your tits, eat you out until you’re dripping.
” Finn inhaled sharply, letting Robbie know how much he liked the thought of being rimmed.
Not that Robbie had doubted it. No, the chancy bit was next.
“What if I suck your pretty little clit?” Finn’s eyes got darker and a moan spilled from his plump pink lips. “Or fuck your cunt?”
“Please.”
“Please, what, babygirl?”
“All of it.”
Robbie slipped a finger under the neck of Finn’s shirt and pulled it aside so he could nibble. “Let’s get you out of your clothes so I can fuck that pretty pussy.”
Finn exhaled shakily and scrambled to get out of his leather jacket. “Robbie, please.”
“Do you need help?”
“Yes.”
“God, you’re perfect, so hungry for it you’re already come-dumb. But I’m going to take care of you, sweetie.”
“You’re perfect,” Finn argued, even as he leaned in to let Robbie disrobe him.
Robbie didn’t even think to take off his own clothes.
While Finn lay naked and flushed on the bed, Robbie was still in his cargos and polo.
And suddenly he couldn’t believe he’d never realized how hot that could be: Finn open and vulnerable to his touch while Robbie loomed over him, covered and unavailable, because this moment wasn’t about him and his pleasure, but Finn’s.
Well. Finn’s pleasure was his pleasure, really.
He started with a kiss. Finn was basically a work of art but his lips were especially nice, plump and pink and always eager for Robbie’s.
He held himself over Finn’s prone body while they kissed, never quite touching anywhere else, until Finn was panting breathlessly into his mouth and arching against the bed.
“Shh,” Robbie whispered against his lips. He pressed a soft kiss there, then on Finn’s jaw, his neck, his clavicle. “I’m going to make you feel so good, babygirl.”
He couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction when he thumbed over Finn’s nipples. Finn jerked like he’d been shocked, eyes closed in bliss, cheeks flushed. He wound his hands into Robbie’s hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needed to tether himself to the earth.
“You’re sensitive here, huh?” Robbie murmured against Finn’s chest, trailing his mouth down to one tight nipple. He covered it with his lips, pressed the broad part of his tongue against the little nub, drew a slow circle. Finn’s ribcage shuddered under his hands.
“Yeah,” Finn said on a sigh, rolling his body as though to try to get some friction. “Robbie, come on.”
Oh, this was going to be fun. Robbie languidly traced a path of wet kisses to the other nipple. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You’re not trying to rush me, are you?”
“Nnnoooo,” said Finn, who absolutely was. Robbie pinched the inside of his thick thigh just hard enough to make him jump.
“That’s right.” Robbie mouthed down Finn’s sternum, in no particular hurry. “A good girl wouldn’t do that, would she?”