Chapter 35
Chase
Thursday came slower than any day in the gazillion-year history of mankind. Seriously. It was painful.
Finn and I texted every day. Hell, we texted so often I thought my phone might die of exhaustion. Still, Tuesday dragged, and Wednesday crawled. By Thursday morning, I was checking the clock on my office wall every five minutes like a criminal defendant awaiting a jury verdict.
Shortly after five o’clock, I walked in my front door, looked around my house with fresh eyes, and started stress-cleaning. I straightened pillows, adjusted the kitchen towels, and made sure my bedroom was presentable.
Never mind the fact I had a cleaning service who’d visited earlier that morning.
My phone buzzed at 5:47.
Finn: On my way. Be there in 10. You wearing something slinky for me?
I laughed at my phone screen.
Me: You know me and chiffon. Nothing but bright colors and bold feathers.
I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair was doing what it was supposed to.
I looked fine.
A little terrified.
But also fine.
The temperature outside had jumped back up to the mid-eighties today, Tampa’s brief flirtation with winter apparently over. January weather in Florida was like that. Forty degrees one day, eighty-five the next, with no logic or reason for the mood swings.
At 5:58, there was a knock on my door.
I took a breath and opened it.
And there was Finn.
He wore silky athletic shorts that hung low on his hips and showed a bulge that made my pulse race. His shirt was far too tight, the vintage Apple Computer logo at its center, clinging to his chest and arms in a way that made my mouth water.
“Hey, you,” he said, that soft smile spreading across his face.
“Hey,” I managed.
Before he could say another word, I reached out, grabbed the Apple logo on his shirt, and yanked him inside. Our mouths met in the middle of the living room. We weren’t gentle or tentative. Hell, that kiss felt desperate and wanting and three days overdue.
Finn made a growling sound low in his throat and pressed closer, his hands finding my waist and pulling me against him.
God, he felt good.
I walked him backward until he hit the wall, never breaking the kiss. Finn’s hands went to my hair, tugging in that way that made heat pool.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I looked down at him. He was flushed, with swollen lips and bright eyes.
Then I reached down to touch the silky fabric of his shorts.
“Ooh,” I said, running my hand over the material. “I like these shorts. I can feel everything.”
Finn’s breath hitched as my fingers found his cock.
His eyes darkened.
Then he said, voice rough and confident in a way I hadn’t heard before: “I bet they’ll feel a lot better on the floor.”
My brain short-circuited.
“Yeah?” I managed.
“Yeah.”
I didn’t wait, didn’t think, just grabbed the waistband and yanked his shorts down, watching them pool at his feet. Finn kicked them away, standing there in just that tight Apple T-shirt and nothing else, looking at me with hunger and certainty in his gaze.
Then he surprised me a second time in as many minutes. He stepped back, motioning up and down my fully clothed body with one hand, and said, “This time, you need to strip. Every last piece. I want you naked before you worship me.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Worship you,” I muttered.
But my hands were already moving to the buttons of my shirt, undoing them one by one, because Finn O’Brien could tell me to do something in that accent and I would simply do it, no questions asked.
“That’s what I said,” Finn replied, watching me with those bright blue eyes. “Worship.”
I shrugged off my shirt and let it fall to the floor.
Finn’s gaze tracked across my chest, down to where my hands were moving to my belt.
“Keep going,” he whispered.
“Now who’s bossy?” I pulled my belt free with more drama than the act required.
Finn didn’t dare look away. “You get to be in charge—I like that—but you will worship me as you order me around. Got it?”
What was it about this guy that made me want to crawl into his skin and inhabit the same space? Jesus.
“How could I say no to you?”
“You can’t.” He smirked. “Now, before I take this shirt off, I need those pants in that pile over there. Underwear and socks, too. If you weren’t born wearing it, take it off.”
That made me snicker. Bossy Finn was sexy . . . and utterly unbelievable. It just wasn’t him.
But God, I loved hearing him try.
The moment my second sock hit the floor, he reached for the hem of his shirt. I darted forward, my rock-hard cock leading the way. “Oh, no. That’s my job.”
He shrugged and lifted his arms, allowing me to tug his shirt upward and off.
We’d fooled around before. I’d had his dick so far down my throat it was on a first-name basis with my tonsils.
But we hadn’t been naked, not together, not at the same time.
His eyes kept searching, studying, cataloguing. It felt like I was being examined by the most thorough doctor ever. And then, he said six words that nearly knocked me off my feet.
“You’re going to fuck me now.”
My cock twitched so hard I felt it in the back of my skull.
“Bedroom. Now,” I instructed.
Finn didn’t argue, but he didn’t run up the stairs either. He arched a brow, turned, and strode into the kitchen as though I’d just asked him to make an omelet. I stood there in my living room, watching his perky butt the whole way.
And then . . .
He hopped onto the granite countertop, laid down as though it was the most comfortable bed in the world, and turned his head toward me.
“Uh, Finn?”
He patted the counter beside him and grinned. “I told you I liked your kitchen. Come, make me love it.”
Well, shit. I might be thick-headed at times, but he didn’t have to tell me that twice. In a few strides, I stood before the counter and the naked man lying atop it. Then I glanced at the counter’s height. I couldn’t reach him while standing on the floor. How was this supposed to work?
He patted the granite again. “Up ya go.”
I blinked. Looked at where his palm was tapping. Then blinked again.
“Come on. Don’t be shy now.”
Not wanting to disappoint him but still baffled as to what we were about to do, I braced my palms on the countertop and hurled myself up. It was an awkward jump. The Russian judge gave it a 5.5. For once, the others on the panel agreed.
Finn chuckled.
“Okay,” I said, crouched on my knees, looking up at the length of his prostrated body. “Now what.”
He shrugged. “Now you do whatever you want. Aren’t you supposed to be the bossy one?”
Had no one ever told Finn that granite was hard?
Like really hard.
My knees already hated the counter, and they’d only been pressed into its surface for a minute or so. Still, if this was a fantasy Finn wanted to live out, I wanted to give it to him. His bleach-white skin and fire-engine crotch did look amazing against the dark coloring of the stone.
Tentatively, I leaned down and tried to find a position that didn’t crush him while requiring knee surgery for me when this was over.
My hand slipped, then my knee scooted. Finn let out a massive “Fuck!” as my full weight slammed into him, squishing him between the counter and me like cheese inside a grilled sandwich.
“Maybe this wasn’t my best idea,” he said in a breathless, pained voice.
That was all I needed. Now we were really doing this.
“Too late. You’re on my counter, so you’re getting eaten.”
With that, I pushed myself up, scooted back down the length of his torso, and took his semi-hard cock into my mouth.
His groan shifted from a pained exhalation to an ecstatic moan.
Less than a handful of head bobs later, his dick was stretching taut in my mouth, his fingers were digging into my scalp, and every part of me begged to bury my whole body inside this beautiful man.
“Shit, Chase, that feels so good.”
I looked up, cock in mouth, and grinned, hoping my eyes showed just how good I thought it felt. Finn didn’t raise his head or look up. His eyes were fixed on some point in the ceiling that I was pretty sure he wasn’t even seeing.
When I grabbed his balls and gently tugged down, his back arched, and his length pulsed.
The first taste of salty precum hit my tongue.
That taste—his taste—was all I wanted, all I could think of.
I gripped his shaft just above his balls and pulled down.
Again, his back arched and more slickness tickled my tongue.
“Chase, crap, slow down—”
I released him faster than I’d hopped onto the counter.
“Not a chance,” I said. “I may not let you come for hours.”
Something like a whimper slipped out, but his mouth twitched upward.
“Now, it’s time I had my dessert.”
His eyes widened as I gripped his legs, spread them wide, and lowered my head. He shuddered the moment my tongue touched the inside of his cheek. When it found the edge of his hole, I thought he might leap off the counter.
“So not fair,” he groaned. “But don’t stop.”
I licked his crease.
He squirmed again.
My tongue circled his hole once, then again, and again. By the time I pressed against his entrance, his shivers vibrated through me. When my tongue slipped inside him, he yanked my hair so hard I thought he might pull it out.
His hands left my head, gripping his legs and pulling them wider, holding them in place. My own hands, now free, reached down and spread his cheeks, giving my tongue a better angle to slip deeper inside him.
“Holy fuck!” His head rocked back and forth as my tongue speared in and out, then circled before slipping back inside him.
My cock pulsed, and my heart raced. Sweat coated my back, and I could feel the heat wafting off Finn’s torso.
“I want you inside me so bad,” he said.
I lifted my head. “Bedroom now?”
He nodded without looking up.
I climbed down from the counter. He rose to a seated position and spun toward me, readying to do the same; but I reached up and stopped him, pressing my palms to his legs.