Page 9 of Late Night Talking
Bonnie’s eyes shoot over Finn’s shoulder to where I’m wrapped in my blanket. “That’s gross but also really cute.”
I walk Finn to the door, where he steps into the hall and then reaches back in to fist a hand in my comforter and drag me up against him. The door falls closed behind me. He wraps a hand in my hair and kisses me.
“I love you,” he says, pulling away just a little. “I’ve got this big, fancy party to go to tomorrow night. I’ll get you a dress, and we can show everyone you’re still mine.”
I smile against his mouth. “Okay. You’ll have to text me your address though. I sort of burned the card you gave me.”
Confusion settles in his eyes before he takes a second to wipe it clean. “Should I be hurt by that?”
I bite his bottom lip. “Maybe just a little bit.”
He tugs on my hair, bending my head back, and runs his tongue up my neck, until my entire body feels like it’s made of flames. “You can burn all the evidence if you want, but I own you.”
I’m trembling by the time he lets me go and turns to walk down the hallway, and I watch him leave, feeling like he’s ripping away a part of me as he goes.
Inside the apartment, I close the door and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.
Bonnie laughs. “Ethan never had a chance.”
Chapter Seven
Ispend the day in bed. Usually, on my day off, I would go grocery shopping and maybe take myself to lunch, walk around the city. But today, I lie in bed and think about Finn. Before he left for London last year, we made plans. We dreamed up a life together, a life where nothing would ever come between us. Do we get to have that back? Does his dream look the same as it did back then?
Mine does. To run a restaurant, something fancy in the city, where the men can’t come in unless they’re wearing jackets. Someplace with chandeliers, where the wine and the entrees are perfectly paired by sommeliers. I want to live in Finn’s house with him, and we can both come home after a long day and spend our evenings making elaborate dinners and binging TV shows and making love until we pass out from exhaustion. That’s all I want.
Like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, my phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I see Finn’s picture flash across the screen. I put his new number in there last night and snapped a photo of him, with his gorgeous naked chest on display.
I snatch up my phone and roll over onto my back, settling into my mountain of pillows. “Yes, Mr. Casey?”
Finn makes a lusty noise on the other end of the line, and I giggle. “Think that’s funny, do you?” he asks, and I hear shuffling on his end. “This was supposed to be a completely innocent phone call, Miss Scott.”
I run a hand up my thigh, still bare, and bite my lip. “I don’t believe that for one second,” I say in my most seductive voice. “You knew it was my day off. Was it your intention that we discuss our lunch plans for tomorrow while I walk through the organic market?” I lower my voice. “Or were you replaying in your head how I sat on your face last night and thought you might enjoy a naughty afternoon phone call?”
He breathes slowly and steadily in my ear, and then I hear the rustle of his suit as he moves. I listen for the sound I know I’ll hear: him closing and locking his office door. I imagine him standing in the middle of his office, hard as a rock inside his pants.
“Well?” he says, and I grin. I can’t help it. He’s getting bossy. And Finn only gets really bossy when he’s turned on.
“Ball’s in your court,” I say, throwing off my blanket now that my skin has gone hot.
He groans. “Don’t say balls.”
“Why, because then you might think about me licking yours?”
I hear the telltale sound of his belt buckle and slip a hand into my underwear. It’s the only thing I put on today, after he left. I’m glad now that I didn’t bother putting on a bra. My nipples are hard and tight.
“What are you wearing?” he asks, and this might be a good time for a joke about cheesy lines, but I’m too fucking horny for jokes.
“Just underwear.”
“Take them off,” he growls quietly. I press my phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can wiggle out of them and push them aside, a slash of black lace on my sheets. “You better be touching yourself.”
“I am,” I say, obediently sliding my hand up and down the wet skin between my legs. I know that the second I settle over my clit, I won’t be able to hold on, so I tease myself instead. “Are you? Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’ve got my cock out,” he says, and my cheeks burn. I slam my eyes closed and picture it. Finn has a beautiful cock, and there are few things in the world I love more than watching him jerk off. “And I’m praying that my two o’clock meeting is late, or things are about to get very awkward.”
My hand stutters. “I didn’t know we were on a deadline,” I tell him. No time for teasing myself then. I reach over to my nightstand, rip open the top drawer, and pull out my vibrator. It’s just a bullet—nothing fancy—but I bought it when Finn left for London because my fingers weren’t enough for me anymore. I had been getting consistent explosive orgasms from Finn for so long that I needed a little help. It still isn’t the same as coming around Finn’s cock, but it’s better than my own hand.
“Well, we are,” Finn says. “So, you better hurry up and make me come.”
