“Why?” I’m asking her to answer a question I can’t even answer. I feel the same damn way, but desire for her is masking the hate.

She looks down as she fists her hair. “Everything you stand for. Your life. You sleep with—”

“I fucked Stevie when I was seventeen and she was twenty. Kellie, she was there, and I knew she just wanted a—”

“What about everyone else?!” she yells, causing me to take a step back.

“What does it matter?” I yell back.

“It’s reckless. It’s irrespon—”

“Be that way with me.” I feel like I’m begging for a piece of ass, and I’m not. I don’t beg for ass. I grab it when I want it, when it’s uncomplicated, and I go. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I’m pissed at her. So pissed, and I don’t know why.

She stands up. “I work for your—”

“I don’t give a damn.” I stare at her.

“If this ends badly—”

“It already has. We both know it seems like a bad idea, but neither of us is walking,” I interrupt. “Throw every excuse you can at me, and I’ll shoot them all down.”

“I can’t. I just … can’t.”

“But you want to. I know damn well—”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Finn. I’m drunk, and I haven’t been with a man in years, so of course I want—”

“Why?” I question her two-fold excuse.

“Because I don’t like being used, taken advantage of—”

“Then use me.”

She doesn’t say anything to that.

“You make me feel, and you make me want to hide. I want you under me.” I need her.

“Because I scare you?”

“I scare you, too. Admit it. I scare you. And you know what takes that fear away? Facing it head on.”

She swallows hard. “I wasn’t supposed to want you.”

“No girl should want a rock star,” I tell her, stepping forward and taking her hand. “But I told you that lifestyle doesn’t interest me. I have you under me; no one else holds that position.”

She nods, fucking agreeing with me. It’s about fucking time.

“No one can know. It would put my job in jeopardy.”

“Agreed. What else?” I yank her closer.

“When it ends—”

“Hasn’t even begun.” I take the bottom of her chin and lift it. “That’s about to change.” Wrapping my arm around her back, I lift her so we are eye-to-eye, and her breath hitches. “You kiss me now dammit.”

She leans in, and our lips collide recklessly, fiercely, and savagely. All the emotions I have felt since seeing her running after Tales, since I met her angry eyes, explode in a kiss, a kiss that will lead to one of two things: fucking or hating.

I suck her tongue and her lips as I breathe her in. My hands leave her hair to run down her back, resting on her tight, little, apple of an ass. I lift her up, and her legs wrap around mine.

Not close enough.

I pull her skirt up as she claws at my shirt. Lifting it, I pull back as it comes over my head.

“Jesus, Sonya,” I say as I hold her ass up with one hand and pull my arm out of one sleeve then the next.

I carry her toward the house as I knead her ass in my hand while sucking on her neck, scraping it with my teeth and trying my best not to hurt her. But I need more. More of her, more of this feeling that the storm is a lie, that my feelings were confused, that this—this right here—is what it was about from the minute I saw her.

Lust.

I use one hand to open the door then kick it shut behind me.

“River,” she moans, pulling away.

“He’s passed out.” I squeeze her ass when I say it. “Never say another man’s name while I have my hands on you. All I want to hear is Finn or God, understand?”

“Yes,” she pants before kissing me hard.

I push her against the wall of the hallway next to the door to my room as I reach over to open it.

Once inside, I kick the door shut and rush to the bed. I set her on it, not wanting to take my hands off her, afraid, so fucking afraid, she will change her mind. When her hands rush to my jeans and start fumbling to unbutton me, I know that fear is unfounded.

I pull her shirt up, and through the moonlight steaming from my windows, I see red, though I’m unsure if it’s her bra’s true color or the filter in my mind, my eyes, from my anger. I quickly lean in and kiss her neck. Then I grab the strap with my teeth and pull it down her arm as I feel the first button of my jeans open.

“Don’t you stop, Sonya,” I demand. “If you stop, if you hesitate, this is done before it even starts. If you want me, you take me.”

My head is in a fog of desire and need. A need I know is driven by the fear of a lie that I can’t have more, one that needs to be abolished so I don’t slip any further away than I already know I am capable of.

I unsnap her bra with one hand as I kiss and tug the other strap down. I pull her arm free, and then her hand urgently returns to unbuttoning my button-fly jeans.

She pushes down my jeans, and my heavy, hard, and needy cock hits her face.

“Fuck,” I hiss as I look down, pulling her hair away so I can watch her look at me. “You like what you see?” I groan, pivoting my hips so it touches her face again.

She swallows hard, licks her lips, and peers up at me through her dark lashes, her eyes liquid amber. “Yes.”

Taking her trembling hand and wrapping it around me, I guide her strokes up then down as I groan. I squeeze, tightening the grip, then use my other hand to take the back of her neck and pull her closer.

When I let go, she doesn’t move back, so I know what she wants.

I trace her lips with my finger then push it slowly inside her mouth. Her tongue caresses my finger, and then I push another finger inside.

I watch as her mouth gives my fingers what I know it wants to give my dick. I try to be patient—it’s normally not an issue, but with her, I need to know. Need, desire, both, and more—that’s what I feel. Fuck, that’s what it was from day one.

I hook my fingers in her mouth and pull her forward, using my other hand, the one guiding her strokes, to rub my cock across her lips.

“Suck my cock, Sonya,” I groan as I pull my fingers out of her mouth and replace them with the tip of my dick that is already beading with pre-come.

Her tongue flicks across, licking it clean, and I can’t help thrusting forward.

“No restraint,” I hiss as I pivot my hips and push farther into her hot, little mouth. “None.”

I lead her back, cock in mouth, so she is lying across the bed. Then I step one foot onto the platform bed’s mattress while the other stays grounded on the floor, knee bent so I’m standing over her, my cock still in her mouth.

Her tongue strokes me harder as her grip tightens around it. I reach back, eyes still glued on the way her lips look wrapped around me. I rub my hand over her silk panties that are wet with desire, and all of a sudden, I am the thirstiest man alive.

I slip my finger under them through the side and groan when I feel how swollen and hot she is. “Your pussy wants me so bad.”

I’m not asking her.

I’m telling her.

I know.

My head is spinning with too much to drink and lust. I can’t deny it, and I didn’t expect to feel it for him.

I am throbbing. Between my legs is a pulse that is on fire. I am full as his rock hard dick thrusts in and out of my mouth. I am hungry. I have never wanted a sexual experience like this. I thought it degrading, but it wasn’t for him. It was for me.

I am drenched. My own desire is evident and excruciating as he rubs his finger between my drenched lips, his cock between the lips of my mouth. I wouldn’t stop if I could.

I can’t stop the desires, the fire; a choir of lust, greed, and need consumes me. His finger pushes between my slick folds, and my hips rock forward, forcing them farther, closer to the burn, nearer to the point of reckless abandon.