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Chapter thirty

Foxx

When I was little, my parents used to throw New Year’s parties for the whole street we lived on.

I always remember watching the grown-ups in sparkly clothes, laughing, clinking glasses and popping champagne.

I’d get to stay up late, at least in theory, but I always fell asleep before midnight.

Curled up on the couch in a room that smelled like perfume and snacks, voices blurring into some awfully sung song at midnight.

I’d wake up to someone draping a blanket over me, the TV still glowing with reruns, the new year already arrived without me.

Now it’s just me and the thousands of people in New York City on the TV. Not having much family doesn’t usually bother me, except for birthdays and holidays, then it feels like a kick to the guts.

Eugene is the only person I’ve spent those times with over the last four years. He texted me hours ago to say he wasn’t making it past ten and wished me a “vaguely thrilling new year,” which I think is his way of being supportive.

I glance at the clock. 11:51.

There’s a half-drunk bottle of sparkling cider on the coffee table. I don’t even like it. But it felt like I should have something.

I exhale and settle back against the couch, one arm slung across the back cushions.

The apartment is quiet in that particular way it only gets in winter—like the whole building is tucked in early, waiting for the year to end.

I’ve spent years in the quiet, so why is it that Finn spends a handful of weekends here and, suddenly, the quiet is louder than anything else?

It’s stupid. Logically, to know someone for a couple of months and miss them, but I do. I miss the way his laugh fills a room. The way he never seems to care if something’s too much or not enough. He’d probably call this night boring, then throw a pillow at me just to get a reaction.

11:54.

I swear the ball’s dropping slower than usual, or maybe time’s just messing with me.

Then my door buzzes, the outside one, and I frown.

I stare at it for a second, like maybe I imagined it. Pushing up off the couch, I walk over and press the intercom with hesitation.

“Yeah?”

There’s a crackle, then a deep voice.

“Delivery for Mr. Jones.”

I don’t recognize the voice, so I open my apartment door and head across the hall to check the front door. But as soon as I get close, I see the burgundy beanie, the messy bleached curls poking out, and my old blue hoodie stretched across a frame I’m starting to know well.

There’s a half a breath where my brain can’t quite marry up what I’m seeing and why he’s here. He should be with his family; he should be in Aurora Valley, yet he’s outside my door just before midnight.

He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands shoved deep into the hoodie pocket, and when he spots me through the glass, his whole face lights up.

“You gonna let your delivery in?” he asks through a grin that I feel in my toes. “It’s time sensitive.”

I shake my head, not even bothering to hide the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, and buzz him in. He pushes through the front door, full of that untamed energy he always has, the kind that I can’t deny I’ve been missing the last week.

“You’re here,” I say, tilting my head, wondering why I’ve just said something so dumb.

“I am,” he replies, stepping into my space, replacing the air with just…him. “Is that okay?” His face falters for a second, as he doubts himself, so I pull him closer to me, brushing my nose against his.

“It’s more than okay.”

Before I can kiss him, he raises his arm and checks his watch, showing me the screen lit up, and there’s fireworks going off, notifying him that it’s midnight.

“Happy New Year, baby.” He leans in and kisses me then, firm and consuming and like he means it.

Mindlessly, I kiss him back with just as much passion, because it’s him—because when it’s him, I never have to think.

His lips are warm, insistent, and the moment stretches, swells, until I’m not sure where it begins or ends.

It’s not the kind of kiss that says I like you .

It’s the kind that says you’re mine . The kind that feels like a promise.

And that’s what rattles me. It feels permanent, or at least I want it too.

I think I’ve just stepped over some invisible line between want and need and didn’t notice until I was already past it.

Seeing in the new year with someone means something.

Or at least it does to me. It feels more.

Is that what we are now? I don’t know. I don’t know what this is or where it’s going, only that it’s real, and consistent, and a little terrifying in its intensity.

But if he keeps looking at me like that… If he keeps kissing me like this—

Maybe I don’t want to question it. I just want him however I can get him.

When he finally steps back, his hand stays on my chest, fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt. “I didn’t bring an overnight bag,” he says, biting the inside of his lip. “Didn’t really plan this ahead. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

I tug at the string of the hoodie he’s wearing… “You’re wearing half my clothes anyway.”

He smiles, proud of himself. “So I can stay?”

“You better.”

I pull him back to my mouth, and we stumble toward my door as I drag him inside.

We don’t get far without touching and kissing again.

My back hits the wall just beyond the doorway, and he crowds me, his tongue sliding against mine, fingers already tugging at my sweatpants.

His kiss turns messier, and I match it, breathing hard when he pulls away only long enough toe off his sneakers.

“This is going to be fast,” he says. “But I’ll make it up to you.”

The thrill of him wanting me enough that he won’t last zings through my veins, lighting me up inside. “Maybe we could try something that would benefit us both at the same time.”

Moving to the bedroom, we barely make it to the edge before I’m pushing him down, kissing him hard and sliding down to my knees.

He watches me with a hunger that feels insatiable, licking his full lips as I pull his trousers and boxers off in one go.

His long cock springs free, smacking his abs still covered by my hoodie. “Take it off.”

He complies, and I make quick work of my clothes too, heat surging low in my belly.

Pushing his shoulders back onto the bed, I crawl up his body, straddling his chest, watching the way his eyes monitor my every move. I grip his jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. “I’m gonna fuck your throat while I suck your cock.”

“Yeah?” he says swallowing hard. “Do it.”

I shift around until I’m hovering over him, my knees braced on either side of his head. My cock brushes his lips, and he opens willingly as I guide the head past his tongue, slowly feeling the way he adjusts, the tight flex of his throat around me like he was made to take it.

I ease out, slick and glistening, his spit coating me as he gasps a breath before licking the underside with a guttural groan. Fuck, it’s so hot watching him fall apart beneath me.

“You gonna to watch the show, or are you going to get me off?”

I lean forward, ducking my head to where his cock lies heavy and flushed, leaking against his stomach.

Lapping up the drops there, I drag my tongue along the shaft and lower to his balls, sucking one gently.

He moans around me, the vibrations traveling all down my cock, shooting up my spine and awakening every nerve in my body.

I start to move again, shallow thrusts into his mouth as he finds a rhythm, trying to give him a moment to breath in between movements, but he doesn’t want it. He grips my hips and yanks me down, burying my cock in his throat and forcing me off him.

“Fuck,” I groan, pulse kicking hard as he works me.

I wrap my lips around his cock, stroking the base with my hand and hollowing my cheeks as I take him in.

When he starts snapping his hips up toward me, I suck him harder, faster, matching the pace of my hips driving into his mouth.

He’s leaking steadily now, pulsing in my palm and mouth, salty and sweet on my tongue.

Our orgasms build fast, like he said they would, and when his thighs tense, whole body locking up beneath me, I know he’s coming.

Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot down my throat as I swallow every drop before my own release crashes into me.

Groaning around his length, my nails dig into his thighs, and I pop off him with a hard suck, not leaving anything behind as I empty myself into his mouth too.

He removes his hands from my hips with a sigh, and I ease off to collapse on the bed beside him.

“Best New Year’s ever,” he rasps, and I laugh breathlessly.

I absolutely fucking agree.