Page 95 of Finley

“Yes,” Daniel growled, and released Brantley’s hands to kneel behind him. He pulled him to his hands and knees and got a firm grip of both of his hips before thrusting inside once more. “Again.”

Over and over, they went back and forth demanding from each other what they needed and wanted, and when it became impossible to not touch himself, Brantley lowered a hand and started to work his aching flesh.

Daniel was ruthless in the way he took him then, like a man out of his mind to prove a point, then he came down over him and demanded in his ear, “Who have Ialwaysbelonged to?Whoshould I always be with?” Brantley knew exactly which point that was.

“Me, Finn.You’remine andI’myours. Always,” he said, then he reached back and clasped Daniel’s thigh as he bottomed out, stiffened inside him, and came right along with him, while he shouted his name.

Never had he been so thoroughly taken in all of his life, and as he fell onto the mattress beneath him, Daniel followed, still wrapped around him, just as he had promised he would.

And Brantley knew he was just getting started.

Chapter 27

SEVERAL HOURS, A nap, and a shower later, Brantley had asked Daniel to take him out. He wanted to see his city, and after a Thai dinner and a stroll through the busy streets, they’d ended up standing opposite?—

“The Popped Cherry? That sounds interesting.”

Daniel looked across the road to the packed bar Brantley was pointing to. People were pulling the door open and rushing inside as others poured out into the street, and something, he wasn’t quite sure what, niggled in the back of Daniel’s mind.Why does the place seem so familiar?He sure as fuck would have remembered a place called The Popped damn Cherry, but as Brantley looked both ways and aimed a smile back at him, he wasn’t about to say no.

As they stepped up onto the walkway, he looked up at the street sign, and again, there was something familiar about?—

“You coming?”

Daniel nodded, shoved his thoughts aside, and reached for the door. Holding it open for Brantley, he grinned when he brushed a kiss across his lips and thanked him, and as the door closed behind them, Daniel gazed around the bar.

His first assessment from outside had been spot-on—the place was packed. They were standing on a raised platform that had two steps leading down into the main room, which spread out to an open plan to both the left and the right, and a bar ran the full length of the back wall. The bartenders were working the area like pros, and the music playing overhead he recognized as the band Barcelona.Brantley linked their fingers and pulled him farther inside the place.

As they wove their way through friends, lovers, and what looked like coworkers enjoying drinks after work, everyone was smiling or laughing as they drank and chatted around the high-top tables or sat in the booths lining the wide windows of each side of the establishment.

Daniel had to admit. It was nice.

When they finally reached the bar, Brantley snagged two stools at the far end.

“Stealthy, professor,” Daniel said as he took Brantley’s jacket and his own and laid them over the counter.

“I can make a quick decision when I know I want something.”

Daniel took the seat beside him and placed a hand on his thigh, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “So I just found out.”

When he pulled back, Brantley grinned and winked. Daniel then turned around, about to try to get the bartender’s attention, when he took note of the man facing the back of the bar.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head full of curls, the guy was dressed in all black, as far as he could see. There was nothing overly unusual about that, butthatwasn’t what had his mouth falling open.

No, it was the man standing beside him with his hand now moving to the bartender’s waist. Daniel watched as his fingers moved back and forward in a familiar gesture as he laughed at something the bartender had just said.

Fuck, this can’t be happening to me,he thought as he slowly raised his eyes over the man—the same one who’d now taken a step closer to the bartender and wassoclose that he couldn’t see between them.

The man was also dressed in black, though much more casually. His perfectly fitted pants and his black V-neck sweater were so immaculate that Daniel knew of only one person who would dress in such a pompous way even when standing behind a bar. And yeah,fucking hell, he knew those black hipster glasses.

Before he thought over his next move, he turned back to Brantley and took his hand. “Hey, how about we get out of here?”

“Why?” Brantley asked. “We just got here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daniel said, and then his gaze flicked back to look at—yeah, Jesus Christ—Tate Morrison and…

“Finley?What the hell are you doing here?”

Logan fucking Mitchell.