Page 10

Chapter ten

Foxx

By the time I park outside my apartment building, Finn is also pulling up behind me in his truck. My pulse is an uneven drum marching against my ribs as I step out, inhaling the cold air deep into my lungs, but it does nothing to ground me. I feel untamed, something I haven’t felt in years.

Finn joins me on the sidewalk, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “This you?” He tips his chin toward my building.

I nod. All words seem to have left me, for fear of scaring him off, maybe?

For fear of saying something I shouldn’t?

Thankfully, we head inside without saying a word, and I refrain from making a fool of myself.

I unlock the door to reveal the low-lit stairwell, the hinges creaking as it closes behind us.

Finn follows me, silently, and in this moment, I appreciate that. It gives me a second to gather myself.

When we reach my floor, I unlock my door and walk in, holding it open for him. He lingers in the threshold for half a beat before stepping inside, his gaze sweeping the space.

It’s clean. Uncluttered. Dark leather couch, polished wood floors, built-in bookshelves along one wall, most of the spines feathered and worn.

The kitchen is open plan with the living area, sleek, all stainless steel and marble, lit by the under-cabinet lighting I always leave on.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far side, revealing the forest and lakes in the distance.

I love looking out there at this time of night.

Finn takes off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair before turning back to me. He doesn’t say anything, just watches me with something unreadable in his eyes.

I clear my throat, shrugging off my own coat. “Drink?”

He shakes his head. “Nah.” His voice is lower, raspier. “C’mere.”

When I’m only one step closer, his fingers catch my shirt, pulling me in, and the moment our bodies collide, his mouth captures mine. It’s not tentative or testing, it’s hungry, all fire and lust, his hands sliding down my back, gripping, pulling. It lights me up inside.

I push him back until his ass hits the edge of the hallway table. He exhales a grunt, and I use the moment to tilt his head, dragging my lips along his jaw, his throat, tasting the salt of his skin.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands roaming all over me.

I smirk against his throat at his response. I already love how vocal he is with me, but I want more. His hands smooth under my shirt, fingertips skimming my stomach with intention, tracing along my ribs. He’s mapping me out with the kind of certainty that makes my skin prickle.

We move together, backing toward the bedroom, lips intermittently meeting, still clothed except for our shoes. There’s minimal light spilling in through the window in here, catching on his face, the sharp planes of his cheekbones, and the way his muscles flex under his shirt.

Finn grins, breathless, eyes darkening. “Listen, if you’re gonna stare, I may as well give you more to look at.”

He reaches for the hem of his shirt, but I push him back onto the bed.

Whatever he was about to say slips out as a breathy sound, lost as I follow him.

My hands are on him, pinning him down, not hard, not like I want to, but firm enough that I know he feels it.

He moans again, and interest flares in his eyes, his smirk flickering at the edges as his body arches slightly beneath mine.

He likes this.

He likes me like this. Fuck, I’m in so much shit. I shouldn’t let that knowledge dig itself into me the way it does, but I can’t stop the attraction for him. The need. It’s overwhelming, and if he lets me take the lead, I know for certain Finn won’t be a fleeting craving.

I drag my mouth down his throat, sucking at his pulse until he lets out this quiet, broken whimper that instantly makes me hard.

My fingers dive under his shirt, finding warm skin, and I move to cup under his ass, squeezing as I press him deeper into the mattress. I let myself lean in. Let myself take.

His shirt is in the way, and maybe I should’ve let him take it off a second ago. Now, I don’t want anything between us.

“Take this off,” I murmur, voice gruff as I lean back, letting him go.

Finn grins, reaching for the hem, but I stop him, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. “Slowly.”

A deviant smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as his eyebrow lifts subtly. “That an order?”

I don’t answer. Just sit back, give him space, watching and teasing myself. I can tell already that Finn likes being watched. I’m not surprised that confident, almost arrogant, demeanor definitely plays into that.

Inch by inch, he peels off his shirt, revealing smooth, tan skin and lean muscle.

His abs tighten under my gaze, and my nostrils flare at the sight of him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me; that confident smirk pulling at his full lips.

I’m sure he can feel the heat of my stare, the way I’m savoring him.

He tosses the shirt somewhere behind him, stretching to put himself on show for me. “Satisfied?”

I don’t respond, just reach for him, flipping him over and pressing his chest into the mattress, my body covering his from behind. He exhales sharply, a quiet grunt leaving his lips.

I inhale deeply as I drag my lips down the back of his neck, letting my teeth scrape his sinewed muscles. My hands skim lower, to the waistband of his jeans, tugging gently. “These too.”

I move off him again and lift his hips, unbutton his jeans, and pull them down, before he kicks them off the rest of the way. He turns slowly, revealing his half-hard cock already straining against his boxers, thighs flexing.

“Your turn,” he murmurs as his fingers curl into my shirt.

I let him pull it over my head, his eyes traveling over me, lingering on my chest. He bites his lip.

Then his hands drop to my belt, unbuckling it, knuckles grazing my stomach. It’s too soft, too teasing. He’s trying to get under my skin, and I’m enjoying every second.

Gripping his chin, tilting his face up, those wild blue eyes find mine. “What do you want, Finn?” My voice is a rasp of control I’m barely holding on to. It’s been literal years since I’ve tapped into this primal part of my brain, and I’ve fucking missed it.

Finn’s smirk deepens, wicked and taunting. “I want you to suck my cock.”

Heat blazes through me. Jaw clenched, my fingers slide lower, skimming his throat, feeling the stutter in his pulse before I press him down to mattress, and follow him, our noses brushing.

“You’ve got such filthy manners for someone so desperate,” I say, my voice darkening.

Finn just laughs, breathless.

My grip tightens around his throat—not hard, not enough to take away his air, but enough to let him feel the weight of my hand, the control that’s ready to snap.

His chest expands, inhaling, mouth open, eyes fixed on me.

“Try again. Slower this time. Beg me like you mean it, and maybe I’ll give you what that cocky mouth of yours is asking for. ”

His nostrils flare, that brat inside him wanting to play with me. Oh, he fucking loves this. So do I.

My thumb drags along the column of his throat before I release him, my hand sliding lower, down his chest, over his stomach, skimming the waistband of his boxers but he still doesn’t respond.

“You want my attention, yes?” I lean closer to him, my lips brushing against his cheek, never fully giving him my mouth again.

Finn makes a sound, half laugh, half groan. “I want your fucking hands on me. Your mouth. Every-fucking-thing.”

I let them slip lower, palming him over the fabric.

And then I stop.

Finn whines, his hips bucking up, chasing the friction I just ripped away from him.

I grin against his skin. “That wasn’t a please . Come on, you can do better than that.”

His chest rises and falls too fast, his frustration mingling with arousal. “Oh, fuck you,” he bites out.

I chuckle, biting down on his throat, harder this time, leaving a mark. “That’s the plan.” Or at least an orgasm each if nothing else from tonight. There weren’t rules set in the end, but I’m already enjoying the feel of him.

Not wanting to wait for him, I strip us both, discarding our underwear. God, even his cock is beautiful. Jutting out in front of him proudly. It’s long, perfectly straight, with veins running up the shaft. Mouthwatering.

His thighs tremble, taking breaths in uneven gasps as I hold him down, teasing him with my tongue over the crown as I get my first taste.

He tastes like the clean edge of control slipping, like a man unraveling one pulse at a time.

The kind of taste that lingers on your tongue long after your mouth is empty.

The kind that turns hunger into something insistent.

His body is already betraying him, his cock twitching, leaking as I lap it up again, his hips lifting before I even give him permission to move. Gripping them, I slam him back down. “Stay still,” I demand against his thigh, my breath hot over his skin.

Finn lets out a frustrated sound, his head tipping back. “You’re killing me.”

I let my tongue flick over the tip of his length again, barely hard enough to satisfy. His whole body responds, a muffled “fuck” slipping from his lips, his fingers digging into the mattress like he’s trying with all his might to hold himself together.

He’s trying not to beg, but it’s too late. His body is doing all the begging for him, and it makes me so fucking hard. I use my free hand to relieve some of the pressure for myself.

“Jesus,” he says, looking down at my hand working my own cock. “You hard for me, Foxx?”

Feeling a pulse deep in my stomach, I groan, “So fucking hard.” I begin moving my mouth lower again, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his length, and when I draw back, I wait until his eyes meet mine again.

“You gonna ask me nicely to suck your cock?” A command disguised as a question.

Finn whimpers a wrecked sound, his body so tense it’s almost shaking. His pride is hanging by a thread, like his impending orgasm. He wants to fight me on this, but he can’t. Not when I roll my hand down the length of him, gather the pre-cum leaking onto my fingers, and match my own strokes.

“Fuck— Foxx ,” he gasps, his head pressing back against the sheets, his hips jerking up against my hold.

That’s not a please. I pull back. Barely touching him now.

Finn groans, his head snapping up, desperation coating his expression. His chest heaves, his cock throbbing to be touched, but his mouth still refuses to say what I want to hear. I tilt my head, watching him. “That’s not how you ask for something, Finn.”

His throat works, his jaw tics and, fuck, I love this back-and-forth. He hesitates and watches as my hand rhythmically moves up and down my length.

Then—finally, fucking finally —his jaw goes slack, and the words slip out, graveled and ready to be ruined. “Please.”

My cock twitches at the sound of it. I grip his face with one hand, tilting his head up to face me, forcing him to hold my gaze. “Say it again.”

His lips part on a trembling inhale, his hips shifting restlessly beneath me. “Please,” he begs. “Suck my cock and make me come.”

Satisfied, I exhale, my grip on his jaw softening just slightly as I lean in, letting myself go so I can focus on him. My breath brushes his lips, and I smirk, looking at the want bleeding from his gaze. I press my mouth to his ear, my hand finding and tightening around his cock.

“That’s a good boy.”

Finn shudders, his breath stuttering like I’ve just ripped the air from his lungs. His cock jolts, and I chuckle darkly, dragging my mouth back down his body, this time not stopping.

I give him what he begged for.