Chapter 30
Finn
I’m not sure what came over me. One minute, I was standing beside Benji as we struggled to keep up with drink orders.
The next, I found myself wading through a sea of screaming sports fans with Chase in tow.
Then, the moment we stepped into the privacy of my office, my body lurched forward, and my traitorous lips attacked him.
Had I turned into a vampire without even feeling my own death?
I didn’t want to drink his blood or anything. A good suck on his cock wasn’t very vampiric, was it? I definitely wanted to do that.
For his part, Chase didn’t so much as object—not when I’d crossed the bar or grabbed his wrist or yanked him through the crowd—and not in that moment when my lips tried to devour his entire essence whole.
He’d startled, in the way surprised people do when they’re, well, surprised; but then, faster than thought, his tongue had gotten with the program and begun lapping up every drop of saliva my mouth contained.
“I fucking missed you today,” he said through labored breaths.
A groan was all I could manage in reply.
But I couldn’t form words or thoughts or . . . anything, really.
All my addled brain allowed in that moment were more and deeper kisses.
All the while, my hands frisked Chase’s body more thoroughly than a horny TSA agent inspecting a college gymnastics team.
I clearly wasn’t searching for weapons; though, as my hands descended to his southern hemisphere, they found a most impressive bulge beneath his zipper.
“He missed you, too,” Chase said in the space between kisses. “What do you want, Finn?”
Fuck. What did I want? I had this man shoved against a metal desk in a disheveled office the size of a broom closet, and my poor team was drowning in customers just beyond the door.
What the hell was I doing?
I pulled back, panic filling my eyes. “I . . . Chase . . . I’m sorry, I—”
“Take your shirt off.”
I blinked.
My mouth fell open.
Chase’s brows rose in the way a mother’s might when her willful child refused to eat his veggies.
“In here?” My eyes darted about the tiny space.
“I could take it off for you, but I thought you might like the option. Either way, I want you naked in one minute.”
Dear Lord, bossy Chase was back.
And that turned me on in ways I—
My hands moved, and my shirt flew off in a blur.
“Shorts, now.”
I looked down, then back up at Chase. His eyes were steel.
Slower, I unbuttoned my shorts, then lowered the zipper. For some reason, once they were ready to fall, I hesitated, holding them upright with both hands.
“Don’t make me tell you again.” Chase’s voice was low and raspy now. Something inside me threatened to explode as my cock began to throb.
My shorts hit the floor and pooled around my feet.
“Step out of them and kick them aside.”
I did as ordered, standing there naked except for my flip-flops.
He glanced down, and a bemused grin curled his lips. “Those, too.”
The leather sandals slammed against the far wall as though they’d personally offended my feet.
Chase leaned back against the desk and stared.
Up and down, his gaze roamed, never lingering or settling on one body part or another.
“I love how pale you are,” he said, reaching out and brushing my chest with the back of his hand. That touch—that simple touch—felt like a poker searing a brand across my skin. Chase’s grin grew as he felt my body shiver.
“It’s an Irish thing. The hair and skin and all. Blue eyes seem to be a thing, too. Some docs say we have an immunity boost that goes back to the famine. Did you know that?” I covered my mouth with a hand to stop the babbling.
Right there in my office with me standing naked before him, Chase chuckled. Then his hand rose and the same backs of his fingers brushed down my cheek.
“I like you, Finnigan O’Brien. I want to know you.”
“I’d really—”
He held up a palm, silencing me.
“But right now, I’m going to blow your brains out. This office isn’t official until it’s christened. We’re doing that. Right now.”
I knew I should object or push back or, fuck, blow him instead, but his sultry voice and bossy commands and threat to suck me off had my wires crossing and fritzing and—
Chase dropped to his knees and began sucking me harder than a teen with a slushie. I stumbled back, slamming against the door. Chase shot forward, gripping my ass with powerful hands while his lips and tongue—and teeth—continued their work.
“Oh, shit, Chase,” was all I managed as my fingers dove into his hair. God, it was soft and full and . . . Jesus, blood was rushing south so fast I got lightheaded. The door and Chase’s cheek-grip were the only things that kept me upright. “That feels . . . so fucking good.”
Chase groaned, his words mangled by my cock in his mouth.
Then one of his hands released my ass and gripped my balls, pulling them down the way he had the night before.
My cock pulsed, a rod of steel pushing past its limits.
Chase gagged as I hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t look up or pull back or even slow.
The more I gripped his hair, the more I tugged, the faster and harder he sucked.
Then I felt his other hand move off my ass . . . and pull one cheek apart.
I flinched.
Chase’s other hand, the one gripping my balls, reached up and pressed against my chest, both reassuring and pinning me in place against the door, while his other hand wriggled fingers between my cheeks.
The pressure of his forefinger against my hole made me clench .
. . and shiver . . . and pull his hair so hard he drew back, my cock flopping free.
I half expected some command to give myself to him in whatever way he ordered. Instead, Chase met my gaze and asked, “Are you okay with me playing with your hole? Just with my fingers?”
My assent was more nervous rattle than nod, but it got the point across.
Chase’s eyes sparkled as his hand left my crease, appearing before my naked body.
He held up his forefinger, then added two more and shoved them into his mouth.
They came away glistening in the light from the banker’s lamp, and I had to fight the urge to shiver again. Jesus, what was this man doing to me?
Then said fingers vanished behind me, and I felt that familiar pressure again.
Wet warmth closed around my cock.
His tongue curled around my head.
Then a forefinger slipped past my pucker.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, my head banging against the door.
He pushed deeper inside me.
My body resisted at first. Then muscle memory took over, and my ass relaxed, giving him permission to do his worst.
I felt his knuckle slip in.
Then the rest of his finger.
He pulled out . . . slowly . . . then slid in again.
“Bloody damn fucking hell.”
His chuckle was muffled but unmistakable.
Then a second finger joined the first, and words fled.
I released his hair and reached back, searching for purchase or anything to grip, but the door was bare. There was nothing to grab.
Chase’s head bobbed. His finger slid in and out.
My back arched.
“God, I want you to fuck me.”
Dick in mouth, fingers in ass, Chase froze.
I clamped my lips shut, eyes wide.
He looked up and let my cock fall free.
“You want me to fuck you?”
I didn’t think. Couldn’t. “Yes. God, yes.”
“In this office? With all those people out there?”
“Are you going to make me beg?”
Chase smirked again.
I nearly yelped as his fingers slid out.
He pressed his palms against the door and pushed himself upright.
His hands gripped both sides of my face, and our lips met again.
This time, the kiss was tender and soft, more emotion than act.
I felt its warmth travel through every artery and vein, a river of passion flooding through me. I felt Chase flood through me.
Then he pulled our lips apart, stared into my eyes, and said, “No.”
I was stunned.
Utterly, completely stunned.
“No?”
“No.” He shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was low but no longer raspy. Heat had been replaced with something more raw, more honest. “Finn, I’ve had my share of hookups. I’m not too good to sleep around. But you . . . you’re not a hookup.”
“I’m not?”
Fuck me. What a stupid thing to say. Why did I ask that?
“No, you’re not.” He shook his head again, and the warmth of his palm pressed against one cheek. “At least, I don’t want you to be.”
He stared for the longest moment ever. I tried to breathe while I waited for what might come next. I really tried.
“If we do this here and now, in this place, like two teenagers smoking joints under the bleachers . . . I don’t want it to be that way with you, Finn.”
The way his voice hitched, it did something to me. I felt his words. Moreso, I saw them in his eyes.
“But a blow job is okay?”
He kissed me again, his grin a tickle against my lips.
“Not anymore. Not now that . . . now that I . . . just not now. Not here. Okay?”
I didn’t have a chance to reply or argue or beg him to finish what he’d started.
My whole body wanted him to finish, wanted me to finish.
But he was already gathering my shorts and shirt, holding them up to me from where he kneeled on the floor.
Reluctantly, I grabbed my shorts and climbed into them.
Then he helped me into my shirt.
I think that might’ve been the most intimate thing I’d felt in years.
He actually helped me dress.
“It’s a big night for the bar. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?” came out more pathetic than I intended.
He rose and kissed me again. “I promise.”