27. Scottie #2
“Let me,” he grunts, looking down at me with a tilt of his head. “Come on, Sharky, tell me what to do. You love calling the shots, don’t you? Where’s all that executive authority now?”
“Don’t get cocky, O’Connell,” I gasp out. “I can still bench your career.”
He lets out a chuckle. “There she is. Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
He uses his free hand to slide down my stomach, his palm hot, dragging over my skin until it presses against my underwear.
A sharp throb makes my hips arch off the mattress instinctively, a small moan ripping from my throat.
“Yeah, writhe for me, Scottie. Scream all you want.”
Cash drops his head, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to my collarbone before he starts dragging his tongue upward. He licks slow and steady along my throat, taunting me by pulling back just when I lean in.
When he reaches my jaw, he brushes his lips against the corner of my mouth, teasing me with a breathy laugh before he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. Then he surges forward, pinning me in place as he crashes his mouth onto mine.
His tongue forces its way inside, hot and demanding, and the kiss turns instantly desperate as he pulls me tight against him.
His fingers slip beneath the elastic of my underwear, finding my pussy—
BZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZ!
The screech of my phone violently splits the room apart. The nightstand vibrates aggressively, the green digital display on the motel clock flashing 11:00 AM.
“Cash—the alarm—” I choke out, my eyes flying open as the spell shatters for a fraction of a second.
Cash doesn’t even lift his head from my neck. His left hand releases my wrists, reaches blindly across the nightstand, and wraps around the vibrating phone.
In one smooth motion, he hurls the phone. It flies over the room, smacks hard against the far beige curtain, and crashes into the corner.
“The fuck, Finnian!” I gasp as his fingers find my clit, pressing with just enough weight to send a sharp jolt through my nerves. “If that screen broke—”
“I’ll buy you ten new ones,” he grunts against my neck, his hand never breaking its rhythm.
His skin is hot and slick against my breasts, and he uses his free hand to pinch my nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until I hiss. He drags his tongue up my neck, pausing to graze his teeth against my earlobe.
“Focus on me, Scottie, and tell me what you want.”
I reach up, threading my fingers through his damp hair to pull him down closer, my breath hitching as he slips a finger deep. The stretch feels incredible, but I need more.
“Harder,” I murmur against his shoulder. “Right there.”
He lets out a rough hum of approval, his eyes dark and focused entirely on the way my skin flushes under his touch. His thumb adjusts circling my clit while his fingers stay buried deep inside, maintaining a pressure that makes my vision swim.
“Like this?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my own hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. I pull at his skin, needing him as close as possible. “Keep going.”
He’s relentless, his palm rubbing in rhythmic circles that make my pussy feel overstimulated. Every time he moves, I let out a sharp, involuntary sound, and he seems to feed off it, his rhythm growing more demanding, more precise.
“Yeah, just like that, Scottie,” he says, his voice vibrating against my neck. “Come on, let me see it.”
I feel the heat blooming low in my stomach, a desperate, frantic ache that’s starting to sharpen.
“God, Finn—don’t slow down,” I gasp, my head thrashing against the pillow. “Right there, keep it right there.”
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my throat. “You’re so fucking responsive, Scottie—I’m never going to get enough of you.”
His words make a low, needy moan drag out of my throat, a confession I can’t help but make. I’m already spiraling, but his voice tips me further over the edge.
Cash pulls back just an inch, his eyes dark and dilated as he licks his own lips, watching me with an intensity that feels like a touch all its own.
His fingers stay buried deep inside, stretching me, while his thumb works on my clit. With his free hand, he brushes his knuckles over my breast, his fingers catching my nipple to pull on it again.
I gasp, my back arching off the mattress, my nails raking down the damp skin of his back as the friction becomes almost too much to handle.
“Fuck—” I cry out, my fingers tangling in his damp hair to drag him back down to me.
I arch my back off the mattress, a sharp, loud cry breaking out of my lungs as the orgasm hits me in long, deep waves. My fingers dig into his back, my eyes squeezed shut as the shaking rolls through my limbs.
Cash holds me tight through the tremor, his mouth pressing hot, breathless kisses against my wet temple, whispering praise-filled nonsense against my skin until the world slows down.
We lie there for a full minute, our chests rising and falling in deep, exhausted cycles. At some point, he pulls the comforter over us, cocooning us against the motel’s humming air conditioner.
And through the quiet, a faint, rhythmic vibration is still echoing from the far corner of the room.
Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz.
I open one eye, looking toward the far wall, then look over at Cash, whose hair is sticking up in every possible direction, his face flushed and a little dazed.
A sudden, breathless giggle leaks out of my chest. Cash blinks, a slow, tired grin breaking across his face as he hears the muffled buzzing too.
“You have a terrible arm, O’Connell,” I laugh, nudging his ribs with my elbow. “You missed the trash can entirely. Elite athlete, my ass.”
He groans, rolling out of the warm sheets and stretching his massive frame.
He walks over to the corner of the room, his bare feet stepping over a stray yellow Connect Four checker, and retrieves the phone from beneath the beige curtain.
He taps the screen, cutting the noise, the blue light illuminating his face.
“Screen’s fine, Sharky. No lawsuit needed,” he says, walking back to the edge of the bed and looking down at the display. “But you might want to look at the reminder.”
“What’s it say?”
Cash tosses the phone lightly onto the mattress beside me, leaning down to press a quick, hard kiss to my lips. “Time to drive.”
“Well,” I say as I slide my hands down to his hips, a weak smile tugging at my lips. “That means I can’t exactly repay you for this.”
Cash lets out a low chuckle, dropping his forehead back down against my shoulder. He stays like that for a long second, just breathing me in, before he shifts up onto his elbows to look down at me.
His expression drops the teasing edge, melting into something so intensely soft it makes my chest ache.
“Oh, Scottie,” he says. “If I could spend the rest of my life like this, just taking care of you and throwing phones across the room, I’d die a happy man. Don’t worry about paying me back.”
“Don’t get sweet on me now, O’Connell. It ruins your unmanageable reputation.”
“Shut up,” he whispers, a beautiful, lazy smile breaking across his mouth. “Just let me have my moment.”
***
7:52 PM
Jenna: I miss you.
Me: I miss you too.
Jenna: See? You can be emotionally available.
Me: Don’t ruin this.