Authors: Ker Dukey
“I’m feeling better, thank you, but put me down just in case. I wouldn’t want to ruin your shirt,” I tease.
He looks down at his shirt with a grin and lowers me to the floor. The guys that came in with him are grinning, looking me up and down and I suddenly feel exposed standing there in my nightwear.
“Where’s Gaby?” Finlay asks.
“She met up with some girlfriends, Jessica and Kristy. She said she’s going to stay at Jessica’s tonight.”
Finlay’s posture relaxes. I decide to leave the boys to be boys, relief washing over me as I lay on Finlay’s bed knowing that Julie won’t be in it tonight.
Please don’t touch me, please!
Oh my God! Stop! No! No!
It hurts, stop!
Oh my God, what have you done?
I wake in a pool of cold sweat, my breathing uneven, memories pushing their way to the surface. I’d dreamt about him again.
I walk into the bathroom to get my bag for my pills. I’m just relaxing back in bed when Finlay crawls in beside me, wrapping his arm around me. “You’re awake.” He pulls me closer, pressing his warm body into mine.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“I talked to Brad. I thought I owed him that. I told him that you and I have grown close and are starting something.”
Really? Because it feels more like playing games and torturing each other.
“Are we?” I ask.
“You know we are, and I won’t share you. I know I can be obsessive but it’s only because I can feel things growing inside me for you. You make me feel like, just me is enough. That the real me is worthy of someone so incredible. So, do you want to be with me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “But I won’t share either, Finlay.”
“I don’t expect you to. I fucking hated seeing Brad’s hands all over you tonight. You’re mine, Antonia, and I’m yours.”
He slides his hand down my body, tugging my panties down. He doesn’t give me any foreplay, no build up, he just raises himself on top of me and slides inside my swollen walls. He’s rough, hurried, like he’s making a point of claiming me. It burns a little because I wasn’t quite ready enough, but within a few thrusts it subsides and I’m already building to an orgasm. His thumb finds my clit and it’s all too much. I clench around his girth, my juices flowing over him.
“Oh God,” I moan, dragging my nails down his back, making him thrust harder into me, catching my moans with his lips.
“You’re mine, Antonia. Say it for me.”
“I’m yours.”
He raises us up so he’s sitting on his heels and I’m straddling his thighs. This position makes me take him so deep I can barely breathe. He raises my cami over my head and takes a nipple into his mouth.
I cradle his head with my arms and we both moan in unison. Sweat glistens our skin causing our bodies to glide with ease against each other.
We’re on fire and I never want to be put out.
He slips his thumb over my clit again, adding pressure there in fast circular movements.
My body begins to shake, clamping around him, pleasure flowing through me from my fingertips to my toes, crying out his name as we reach climax.
Tears fill my eyes.
“God!” Finlay growls. Losing all his control he releases himself into me, filling me with his hot, wet cum. It was rushed, rough, but God, it felt amazing, despite my soreness.
He lowers our bodies to the bed, curling himself around me until his breathing becomes heavy and even.
He’s asleep, my mind finally subsiding from the induced lust state berates me for not talking to him about apartmentms. He pulls me closer in his sleep and once again I feel so complete lying in his arms and everything else fades away.
THE SCENT OF BACON
and coffee greet me the next morning, and I find Finlay in the kitchen, whistling while dishing up bacon and eggs. His face lights up when he catches me standing there, admiring the fact he’s shirtless; his refined muscles react to every movement he makes.
Damn, he’s beautiful.
“When do you find time to work out?” I ask pointing my finger towards his six pack.
He looks down, and with a sexy half grin replies,
“Hey, I’m just naturally this good-looking. I’m blessed, what can I say? You’re one lucky lady.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I take a seat at the table so he can serve my breakfast. His reply is the college Finlay Hayes I remember the confident, cocky dick. I laugh to myself but don’t speak my thoughts.
“I have a treadmill in every office. It relieves stress. I also lift weights.”
I smile over my coffee cup, trying to hide the butterflies I’m feeling.
“So, I want to take you out on a date.”
“Really? Where do you want to take me?”
“It’s a surprise. Eat and then we can get ready.” He points towards my plate then my mouth.
“Okay, bossy. You’re always trying to feed me. Do you think I’m too thin?” I joke, flinging a piece of bacon at his plate.
“I think you’re perfect. Really fucking perfect.”
My insides melt and I know my smile is huge because my cheeks hurt containing it.
I’m picturing him inside me again; I’m burning up and debating pushing the plates out the way and doing a cat crawl across the table to him
. It always looks so sexy in the movies.
“Are you thinking about sex?” He asks and I almost choke on the mouthful of coffee.
“What? No.”
“Liar,” He grins.
Why we’re on the subject
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Sure,” he replies, his eyes lifting from his plate.
“Do you not use protection with everybody you sleep with?”
His eyebrows pinch together and he clasps his hands together in front of his chin, elbows on the table. He clearly wasn’t prepared for this question.
“I always use protection. Apart from my college girlfriend, you’re the only other one I’ve not used it with.” Confusion is written on his face. “I saw your birth control in your bag when I got your pills and I know you haven’t been with anyone else. I have to do medicals for work so I’m checked. You’re different from any girl I’ve been with. It isn’t just about the act of sex. I needed to be as close to you as possible. I care about you.” He nods his head, eyebrows still pinched together like he’s explaining to himself, not just to me.
I smile and reach over the table to take his hand. “I care about you too.” I’m relieved by his answers and the warm buzzing in my veins heightens.
When we arrive at an art gallery later that day, I’m blown away. It’s the big opening night but Finlay’s friend owns the property and knows the artist personally, so he got us on the guest list and arranged a private tour.
Well, that’s the excuse he gives me when I ask how we’ve got a private tour around a highly well known artist’s work before it’s even opened. I don’t query him on it further because I’m too in love with the artwork to care.
There’s one piece that has me completely captivated; a painting of a blossom tree, the petals falling, blending and creating a figure of a girl. It brings my emotions to the surface and a tear slips from my eye. Finlay doesn’t say anything, he just brings his thumb up to my face to catch the stray tear.
We spend an hour in silence, just admiring the work, before a smartly dressed man approaches us and asks if we enjoyed the pieces. Finlay thanks him and ushers him away for a few minutes before returning.
“Ready?” he asks, guiding me to the exit.
“Thank you. This was so special. Thank you,” I whisper, kissing him on the cheek
“Thank you for being special,” he replies with a heart-warming smile that makes my world tip.
“Let’s catch a movie and get some dinner.”
The theatre isn’t busy, and the loud gun fire resonating around the darkened room as pictures flicker over the giant screen have the few people in there captivated, but Finlay and I are too busy making use of the back row like high-schoolers to take much notice. We decide to grab takeout on the way home rather than eat out; we just want to be home alone.
I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM
Gaby except for a text saying she’s staying at her mom’s for a few days.
I lose those days just floating around on cloud nine. Finlay has a great sense of humor; he isn’t afraid to laugh at himself and he’s great company. We’ve spent the last few days just hanging out.
Making out.
He doesn’t have to go to the office or fly away somewhere; we just spend the days between the couch and the bedroom, having amazing sex and talking about anything and everything.
He wants to know everything there is to know about me; favorite bands, color, movies, food, drink, school subjects.
He reminisces about his memories of college and how he met the guys.
He’s known Brad since school and they’ve remained best friends, going to the same college and doing the same degree.
They met Gavin when he had gotten mixed up with his dorm room. He’d unpacked all his stuff in Finlay’s room before realizing his room was actually next door.
They managed to talk Finlay’s actual roommate into switching with him instead of moving all his stuff. Gavin’s parents own a nightclub chain so they always got VIP treatment which, when you’re a young guy in college, could make you friends with anybody, and it turned out to be a small world because Finlay’s mom and Gavin’s dad actually went to college together and were friends.
Mike’s room was across the hall and they all had similar interests. Gabe was a friend of Mike’s so they all hung out together and have been good friends ever since.
Gavin is the player of the group and always has two or three girlfriends at one time.
Finlay talked about a girl, Marie that he was seeing for a few months in freshman year but he came back to his dorm one day to find her in bed with Gavin.
He didn’t fall out with Gavin over it; he just ended things with her, even when she begged him and told him Gavin seduced her.
I can’t understand it; Gavin is good-looking but also a creep, and Finlay is a different league of good-looking compared to Gavin.
Then again, no one is in Finlay Hayes’ league in my eyes. He’s unique and I’m smitten.
Finlay also talks about his dad and how much he misses him. Work cropped up in the same conversation about how the board of directors tried to have him step down because they think he’s too young to handle the responsibility of taking over.
He says that’s why he works so hard and oversees all the important meetings himself, because he has something to prove and is no way in hell letting them take his dad’s company from their family. His dad had worked too hard to build it to let his memory be disrespected.
I admire that about, his commitment and drive. Both our fathers worked hard and gave up family events, plays, recitals, and holidays to be as successful as they were. To have someone try to erase their existence is unacceptable.
I talk some about my life back home but don’t bring up the last year and a half. He doesn’t push me on anything, even though I think he senses that I’m withholding information, which makes me feel like he trusts me and is giving me the time I need before sharing that dark part of me.
He asked me about the letters risen with scar tissue on my mound one night when he was kissing me there, but I froze up and locked myself in the bathroom for an hour so he told me he didn’t need to know.