Spin (8 page)

“Paying attention now?” I asked softly.

I heard her laugh under the cover of her
other arm.

“Don’t think about me. Focus on the
ice.”

“Oh, the ice is all I can think about,” she
assured me.

I yanked the sheets off her entirely,
grabbed two pillows, propped her knees on them, then spread them
wide and glided an ice cube up the hot, sensitive skin of her inner
thigh.

A high-pitched gasp ripped through her body
and her knees dropped open a little more. I followed the ice up her
thigh with my mouth. Her body was in a constant motion now, small,
bending, arching motions, jerking with every cold drip and frozen
swipe, moving to catch every hot lick of my tongue, pushing up for
more of every breath I sailed over her skin.

Up I went, to the juncture of her thighs.
She’d pushed her legs apart as far as she could by now, giving me
lots of access. I lifted my hand and fisted it in the air and let
one icy drop of water fall onto her hot pussy.

I’m surprised it didn’t sizzle.

Her hips snapped up, her head banged back
into the headboard and she gave a long, crying moan.

It sounded good to me.

I cupped my hand and rubbed the ice cube
into her folds in one merciless swipe. She screamed in pleasure.
Then I teased her, ice and tongue, up her thighs, across her belly,
over her nipples, until she was crying. I went for her center
again, deep in the slippery folds that were hot and wet, shocking
her body with the ice. I touched it to her clitoris and followed it
with my mouth until she was a gasping, undulating, ready-to-come
woman. I kept my tongue on her and circled her entryway with the
ice, then slid it slightly inside, pushing her open.

A broken sob tore from her. “Finn,” she
whispered.

Enough. I flung the ice away and positioned
myself between her knees. Her hands held my hips, guiding me in. It
was shocking, her iced pussy, and fucking good. I gripped my dick
and leaned over her, one palm beside her head, and entered her with
a hard thrust.

Hard, tight heat, she was so fucking
good.
I couldn’t stop pumping, pushing in deeper. She met me
at every crest, her hands on my body, kissing whatever she could
reach, my elbow, my chest, my ear.

I leaned my mouth by her ear and rasped,
“You’re so fucking tight.”

“I haven’t done this much,” she whispered
back.

“Good.” I hooked her knee over my arm and
plowed into her so hard I fucked her right up to the headboard,
swift, merciless fucking, no mercy for her inexperience, and she
was there for it, urging me on, her head back, her throat a pale,
sweaty curve, chanting my name softly, “Oh Finn, oh Finn, fuck….
Finn.
”

I felt my orgasm barreling up on me like a
storm, coming hard and fast. I shoved over on one elbow and pushed
my hand down between our bodies, stroking her clitoris. She cried
out then froze, then I felt her body start to clench in undulations
around me.

Fuck yeah.

I surged one more time and climaxed in a
thundering, roaring wave of fire and jamming heat. I lifted myself
into her, over and over, unable to get enough, and she held onto me
until the end, meeting me plunge for plunge, until our bodies were
finally spent.

I lay on top of her for a long time, just
barely propping myself up so I avoided smothering her. Her flesh
continued to ripple around me, orgasmic remnants that I didn’t want
to miss.

“Well,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I think
I’m relaxed now.”

I laughed raggedly and pulled out, rolled
her into my side. I kissed her damp head.

“I love you being in me,” she whispered.

“Me too,” I said.

A lot. Maybe too much. This might turn out
to be a problem.

~ Jane ~

WE LAY IN Finn’s bed after, with its soft pale sheets
and amazing pillows. Moonlight washed into the room. Apparently,
somehow, during the endless moments of Finn’s body pressed into
mine, time had moved on. The moon had risen, owls had landed in the
trees. I didn’t even recall any of that happening.

Finn lay beside me. His thigh was up against
mine, hot and firm. He had one arm thrown across the pillows above
our heads. The definition in his muscles in moonlight was like a
sculpture. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, but he wasn’t
asleep. I knew it. He was listening to
me
breathe, feeling
my leg up against his, watching the curve of my body in the
moonlight.

“Do you know how good I feel?” I asked.

“About an eleven on a one to ten scale,” he
said, his voice rough and sexy just because.

I rolled my head to the side and looked at
him. “Aren’t you a little cocky?”

He shook his head. “Mm-mm. Just certain.”
The arm he had on the pillow came down to curl around my back.

I considered the moonlit ceiling. “Isn’t
that the definition of cocky?”

“No. Cocky people are stupid people who are
overly arrogant about things they don’t know shit about.”

“Oh.” I followed the encouragement of his
hand and slid closer, facing him, until our bodies were touching
from chest to knee, my breasts against his ribs, my pussy against
his waist. He cupped the back of my knee and dragged it overtop his
groin, touching his soft, curving penis.

“That’s weird, Finn, because I could have
sworn you were cocky.”

“Nope.” He smiled faintly. His eyes were
still closed.

“Hmm,” I said, skeptical. “Well, maybe it’s
eight out of ten.”

He snorted softly.

I stretched against him, feeling very, very
good. “I’ve had more sex tonight that I have in— Do you know the
last time I slept with someone?”

“Last week,” he guessed, to be a good
sport.

I shook my head. “It’s been…a while. I don’t
really have time or energy to get messed up in a relationship. The
checking in and the paying attention.”

The cheerleading. The constant
shining
.

I’d actually like a little checking in, a
little caring. But it was too draining, like being plugged in all
day long. The way I ran things now, I could be a bright and shining
star twelve-to-fourteen hours a day, for excellent pay, then go
dark at night, all alone. No one to see what I was made of, inside,
empty inside, like a big bright spotlight shining out, always
out.

It was great. Really great.

“Ah.” Finn opened his eyes and turned them
to mine. “You know, Janey, it doesn’t have to be like it was for
your parents.”

I lifted my brows. “If you bring up our
parents again, I’m going to leave.”

He rolled us over so his body was behind
mine, spooning. “Deal,” he said. “I have no desire to talk about
our families or the past. We’ll just go with whatever feels
right.”

Heavy and warm, his arm fell over the dip in
my waist. The weight of it should have been annoying; I didn’t like
to hear
breathing
in the bed beside me at night, let alone
have a heavy male arm draped over me. But this heavy male arm was
apparently not a problem.

“I like what’s happening right now,” I said
softly.

“Me too,” he murmured back, his voice
getting heavy and slow.

But then, a lot of things had happened. I’d
gone home with a guy. I’d had sex with him on a car. And sucked his
cock. On the dirt. And more was probably coming. I hoped.

“But if one more thing happens because of
you,” I whispered to the moon-air, “it’ll be proof you’re
voodoo.”

One more unexpected, uncontrollable, bright,
exciting thing.

I overslept the next morning for the first
time…ever.

THE SUN BEAMED me awake a few minutes before six. I
snuggled down deeper into a soft pillow, avoiding it, trying to
orient myself.

I felt the heat of a male body beside me. I
oriented real fast.

I leapt out of bed, trying to be silent,
grabbing articles of clothing as I went. They were strewn down the
hall from the bedroom to the kitchen. I snatched up my bag and my
phone tumbled out. I reflexively touched its buttons to bring it
alive, as I one-handedly yanked on my skirt.

My phone was dead.

I stilled, skirt halfway up my calves. I
felt cold. This was scary. My phone had never run down before. It
was almost a religion for me to plug it in. Car, house, hotel
rooms—I crossed myself with the ritual.

I stared down at its blank, black face in
Finn’s kitchen and saw nothing but the murky reflection of my face.
Sunrise hit the back of my head, a pale heat.

If I required proof that I’d toed a
dangerous line last night, it was right here. Proof of how easy it
is to let your priorities slip away. To slide back into your
roots.

I tugged the skirt the rest of the way on,
yanked my shirt over my head, and bolted for the door. I wasn’t
going to let anything drag me back down, not even Finn Dante and
the greatest sex on earth.

Or the only guy who’d cared about more than
the glossy snapshot from me. The magazine page. The cream off the
top. Not that that was their fault. I’d never given a man the
chance to want or expect anything more. Finn was the only one.

I felt a little chill. That could mean
something, couldn’t it? That he’d been the only one?

My heart skipped a beat.

I tiptoed back into the bedroom and looked
down at his face, scruffy, relaxed, with a mouth that made such
magic and called me on so much shit. My belly got that weightless,
fluttery feel. I really, really wanted to kiss him. But he was
voodoo. And I did not believe in magic.

Okay, actually, it scared me shitless.

And I already knew what happened if you rode
the wave all the way in. You got smashed to smithereens.

I slipped out the door, exposed by the
bright sunrise, leaving behind a scribbled good-bye on the pillow
beside him.

Then I ran.

~Finn~

I WOKE TO an empty bed and a note.

I had an amazing time. I’m glad
you showed up at the end of my rope.

Thank you.

That’s what she’d said last time.
“Thanks,”
whispered hot in my ear, before she’d backed into
the shadows on her bare feet and painted toes, her red-brown hair
swirling, a firestorm in the wet swamps of Dodge.

That time I hadn’t seen her again for eleven
years. It could have been never.

Fuck that.

I rolled out of bed, already grabbing for a
shirt, just as my phone rang.