The limo finally lurches forward, pulling into traffic. Finn removes his hand, rises as best as he can in a covered vehicle, and moves to sit on the adjacent bench seat. He settles in his seat, his hungry eyes trailing over my body. “Come on, Avery. We’re on a time limit now. Show me how you touch yourself. Don’t even think about lying by saying you don’t do it. Mason didn’t satisfy you a day in your life. Show me what you’ve been doing in private for four years.”
“Is this um…another lesson?” I ask stupidly. I’m just buying time, hoping my bravado catches up. I’ve never masturbated for a man before, let alone in the back of a moving vehicle. Hot or wrong? Sexy or degrading? Delicious or embarrassing? I don’t know. “Is this what men like?”
Finn shrugs as he bites down on his lower lip. “It’s what I like.”
I’m torn between my self-respect and burning desire to do what Finn likes.
He’s been sweet all night. I talked. He listened. He’s been patient and playful, protective and proud…he—oh.
I get it.
The foreplay.
He’s been priming me all night, acting like such a gentleman. Now he’s asking because he knows he deserves to get what he wants. There’s no other way to see it. He earned it. The clever bastard.
Yanking my panties to the side with my pinky, I trail my middle finger against my crease. I look anywhere but at Finn. “Like this?” I mutter.
“You look a little uncomfortable,” Finn says.
“Because I am.”
“Why?” he asks.
The answer is obvious. I’m on display. But why does that bother me? All Finn has done is praise and worship my body. The bulge in his pants right now is telling me his feelings aren’t all lip service. What do I want from him? No. What do I want from me?
It’s permission.
To enjoy this.
To get from this what I want. To be selfish and think about what the fuck it is that I need. I watch Finn’s chest rise and fall. It’s clear he’s trying to control his breath. He’s got both hands half tucked underneath his thighs, securing them as if he doesn’t trust them. What if for just a moment in time, I let myself believe that a man who looks like Finn is turned on by a woman like me?
I slip my longest finger into my slit. Feeling my own wet heat, I swivel my finger around until my arousal coats my entire finger. Holding my middle finger in the air, I say, “See? Wet.”
“Holy shit,” Finn says as he dips his head and rakes his hand through his hair. “I didn’t actually think you were going to do it.” He smiles. “Such a good student.”
“Are you coming back over here?” I pat the seat next to me with my unoccupied hand.
“No. Please, for the love of God, Avery, do it again.” His eyes are burning, pleading, desperate…the way I imagine women look at him. I consider my response as I float right out of my body and become a woman far bolder than I’ve ever been.
“Once I start, I don’t know if I can stop.”
Finn lets out a low, shaky breath. “Good. All the way. Let me see how you make yourself come.”
The funny part is that the logistics are a well-rehearsed dance. How many times did I have to take care of myself when Mason finished and didn’t bother to ask if I was okay? How many times did I get myself off fantasizing about my boyfriend, fucking me somewhere, anywhere other than the bed in the pitch-dark? How many times did I wish a man wanted me so damn much that missionary wouldn’t satisfy the craving? That he’d need more…deeper…wilder.
That man is right in front of me, watching me finger myself until I forget to care. I forget to be embarrassed. I forget about any and everything except finding my release as I slip my finger in deeper, over and over, trailing my slippery arousal over my clit. I hike up my knee and press my heel into the edge of my seat when I feel the pressure of pleasure building. The heat saturates my skin and goose bumps rise as my body tenses.
“Good girl, Avery. You look so fucking good. You have no idea how turned on I am…”
Finn’s words are garbled like he’s watching the show underwater. I stay focused on his eyes. His eyes, which are normally the lightest shade of baby blue, look like coal as they fixate between my thighs. I hike up my other heel and widen my thighs in a deep V, unashamed at how exposed I am.
I’m so close. I tickle the tip of my clit, tensing at the ticklish sensation, but I need something more to push me over the edge.
“Finn…say something…”
“Say what, baby?”
“Anything.” My head hits the back of my seat as my orgasm teases me, bubbling to the surface and then dropping back below. I need something. His hands? His tongue? His dick? Maybe one thing even more tempting…his heart. “Tell me this means something. Even though we’re just friends. Tell me I’m safe and you care.”
“Don’t fucking stop,” he says as he crosses the space between us at record speed. His lips smash against mine as he embraces me the best he can in this position. I whimper into his mouth as I come, twitching and trembling in his arms as he pins me tightly in place. The blinding pleasure has barely subsided before Finn’s passionate kisses turn soft and tender, just light pecks beneath my ear and down my neck. “I care about you, Avery.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “This means something.”
I smile and nod into his neck. “Thank you.”
“That was really hot.”
I chuckle, my breath hitting his skin. “It’s despicable, Finn,” I say teasingly. “You made me wait for dinner, didn’t book a limo, and you made me do all the work back here?” I tut my tongue.
He snorts. “If you think what you just did was work, then you have no idea how I fuck.”
I poke my tongue out at him. It suddenly dawns on me that the vehicle is stopped. How long have we been stopped? “Are we home?”
Finn nods slowly.
“How long?”
“A while. You were really getting into it… You were pretty loud back here.”
My skin shrinks around my face, the reality of shame washing over me. “So basically, I shouldn’t make eye contact with the driver?”
Finn nods, trying to hold in his laughter. “Probably wise.” Releasing me, he scoots over to the door and pushes it wide open. After stepping out first, he holds his hand out for me. I adjust my panties, smooth out my dress, and collect my clutch before grabbing our takeout bag and the fancy bottle of champagne. I have to scoot awkwardly to the edge of the limo with my hands full and my clutch tucked beneath my arm.
Finn relieves me of the bottle and takeout bag, securing my hand in his. I love when he does this. What man likes to hold hands? I thought it was just for show at the restaurant, but here we are in the privacy of our neighborhood, with butterflies in my chest, and I feel like a teenager again.
“My place or yours?” Finn asks, leading me to the right, toward his home.
“Wait.” I pull back. “My place. I have to turn down aquarium lights so the fish can rest.”
“God forbid the fish lose a night of sleep,” Finn grumbles.
“Hey, how would you feel if the sun rose and never set, hm? It’d be jarring. Plus, I made a promise to Dex to take care of what matters to him. I take my commitments seriously.”